My friend, this is definitely a season of quiet reflection on this end. Here’s why …

Just this morning, I went for a 2-mile walk around my neighborhood with my sweet Beagle, Seven, by my side. On occasion, I’ll take a stroll without earbuds in my ear to soak in the sounds around me. However, today, I chose to listen to a podcast that confirmed the season I’m in and challenged me in several ways.

The podcast host interviewed a woman who experienced a traumatic injury as a result of a fall while skiing, which led to her becoming quadriplegic. All of this happened just days before her 16th birthday! Of course, at the time of her diagnosis, she questioned God, her purpose in surviving, and how she would navigate the rest of her life. At this point in the interview, my first thought was that I didn’t want to here another Cinderella story — you know, the one where someone experiences a challenge, a magical situation happens, and the person’s life changes in an instant. However, she pleasantly surprised me by taking a different approach.

The woman shared that even now, 15 years past her injury, she occasionally asks “why” and experiences the lows that come along with her physical health condition. She remains quadriplegic, not experiencing the “miracle” she once hoped for. I felt seen and immediately thought about my own life experiences — grief, specifically.

I’m 12 years into my own journey and also still ask the hard questions, as well as ride the waves that come along with grieving day to day. My miracle — not having to walk through the grief process — didn’t come either. I still grieve my parents’ deaths, along with my first Beagle, Hunter. I occasionally weep as I reflect on memories shared. My body sometimes aches, as it remembers the deep wounds within.

Yet, I’m adamant — particularly in this season — that grief will not be who I am, even if it’s something being used to help educate and inspire others. The woman’s declaration about her own identity as a person who happens to be quadriplegic, versus a quadriplegic person, inspired me and confirmed what I’d already declared in my mind.

The question you might be asking is: “How do I disentangle myself from grief as an identity while grieving?”

Here’s what the woman on the podcast shared, which as I mentioned, challenged my thinking.

First, invite God into the situation. Hear me out here, my friend. This is NOT my attempt to sway your thoughts about religiosity or spiritual beliefs. I’m a Christ follower. However, you don’t need to be to recognize the value of inviting something greater than you into your situation. I imagine that when you face difficulties in your life, you ask “why.” So inherently, you probably recognize that there’s something beyond you that may hold the answer to your question.

The bottom line is that it’s OK to ask the tough questions. It’s OK to feel uncertain about your journey and its purpose. You’re human, and we humans feel and crave certainty in our lives.

Second, the woman discussed how she’s been able to grow in the midst of her challenges. Again, this is not a charge to try to transform your heartache into a happy ending. Grief sucks. However, it may be important to consider the possibility that you can grow as you grieve. I certainly have.

My capacity for listening and extending compassion towards others has grown. My recognition that life is indeed, short, and that I must be more present has expanded. Heck, even my ability to care for myself has enlarged. Growth can happen in the midst of pain … if our hearts are open to it.

Finally, learn to extend grace towards yourself. The woman described the tension in wanting to physically move, yet not being able to. In these difficult moments, she reflected on the importance of self-compassion, patience, and stillness. What a powerful insight, right?

So … God. Growth. Grace.

Whether you choose to lean into all three invitations or simply focus on one, I hope the information I gathered from the podcast blesses you towards action today.

You are not your grief. You’re still here for a purpose. What that is, I don’t know. However, I challenge you to consider your own “whys” and embrace a little tough love today … it can go a long way.

Love you, my friend.

M.