When Grief Becomes Gratitude: Learning to Trust God Through Loss

There are anniversaries we celebrate because they mark something we never want to forget. And then there are anniversaries we remember because they mark something we never imagined we would have to endure.

Today marks one year since Athanie went home to be with the Lord.

I approach this day with a smile and a softened heart. There is still grief, because love leaves an unmistakable absence when someone we cherish is no longer beside us. But there is also gratitude—deep, overwhelming gratitude—for the life God gave us, for the years we shared, for the prayers He answered, and for the ways Athanie’s life continues to bless our family even now.

I’ve learned that grief and gratitude can occupy the same heart.

We can miss someone deeply and still rejoice.

We can shed tears over what has been lost while thanking God for what can never be taken away.

We can acknowledge death while still declaring that, because of Jesus, death does not have the final word.

Setting Our Minds on Things Above

Scripture tells us:

“Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth.” — Colossians 3:2

Over this past year, those words have taken on an entirely different meaning for me.

There is a perspective that only comes when we are forced to release what we cannot keep and trust what we cannot yet see. When our plans are interrupted, when prayers seem to be answered differently than we expected, and when the future suddenly looks nothing like the one we imagined, we discover what it really means to trust God.

Athanie’s life became a beautiful testimony of that trust.

When we first met, he was very different from the man he eventually became. Over many years, I watched God work in his heart. I watched him surrender more of himself, loosen his grip on the things of the flesh, and prepare his heart for Jesus.

And now, looking backward, I can see God’s faithfulness woven throughout his entire story.

The choices Athanie made to follow Jesus did not end when his earthly life ended. Our family is still experiencing the fruit of those decisions. His prayers still matter. His faith still matters. His testimony still matters.

A life surrendered to God leaves an inheritance that death cannot erase.

When God Asked Me to Trust Him

Months before Athanie went to heaven, I experienced a moment with God that I will never forget.

It was early in the morning during my quiet time, before Athanie had awakened. In that stillness, I sensed the presence of God in a profound way.

And the question that came to my heart was simple:

Would I trust Him?

I broke.

There are moments when we say that we trust God because we believe the right things about Him. Then there are moments when trusting Him means surrendering something we desperately want to hold onto.

That morning, I said yes.

I didn’t understand everything that was ahead. But for the first time, I began to realize that we might be approaching the beginning of the end of a season I desperately wanted to continue.

Since then, trust has looked different every day.

Some days I have felt as though I were barely holding onto the hem of His robe.

Some days I have felt like a child resting safely in His lap.

And other days I have been overwhelmed with praise, gratitude, and the awareness of His presence.

But through every one of those days, He has remained faithful.

Sometimes the Miracle Looks Different Than We Expected

One of the most difficult lessons of faith is realizing that God’s answer does not always look like the answer we imagined.

We prayed for Athanie.

We prayed for healing.

We prayed for miracles.

And I believe God answered those prayers.

Athanie did not die from cancer. His passing was peaceful and without pain. Throughout the journey, God continually provided comfort, grace, strength, and moments that could only have come from Him.

Ultimately, Athanie received something greater than temporary healing.

He was made whole.

Completely.

Forever.

That changes the way I think about answered prayer.

Sometimes we ask God to restore what we have here, while God sees eternity.

Sometimes we ask Him to extend a chapter, while He sees the entire story.

Faith is not believing that God will always do exactly what we ask. Faith is knowing that God remains good even when His answer is different from ours.

Learning to Live Again

Grief changes you.

But grief does not have to become the end of your story.

Over this past year, God has slowly taught my heart how to look forward again. I have spent time quietly allowing Him to heal places within me and teach me what the next season of life might look like.

And something unexpected has begun to happen.

I have become hopeful about the future.

Not because I have forgotten the past.

Not because Athanie matters less.

But because I am discovering that moving forward does not mean leaving someone behind.

Love isn’t diminished when we begin living again.

In fact, sometimes the greatest way we honor those who have gone before us is to live fully with the time God has given us.

New Life and New Reasons to Rejoice

And even in a season marked by remembrance, God has given our family another beautiful reason to celebrate.

My daughter, Annslee, and her husband, Gavin, are expecting a baby boy.

A new grandson.

A new generation.

A new life entering a family that has learned firsthand just how precious life truly is.

There is something incredibly moving about watching new life emerge in a season when our family has been learning how to live with loss.

It reminds me that life continues.

Love continues.

God continues writing.

One chapter closes, another begins, and somehow the Author remains faithful through every page.

His Mercies Are New Every Morning

Today, I don’t simply commemorate the day Athanie left this earth.

I celebrate the life God gave him.

I celebrate the man he became.

I celebrate the prayers God answered.

I celebrate the memories we were given.

I celebrate the love our family experienced through him.

And most importantly, I celebrate the hope we have because of Jesus.

Scripture says that God’s mercies are new every morning and that great is His faithfulness. After walking through this past year, those aren’t merely beautiful words to me anymore.

They are something I have lived.

God was faithful before the loss.

God was faithful during the loss.

God has been faithful throughout the grief.

And God will be faithful in whatever comes next.

Death Does Not Get the Final Word

If you are walking through grief today, perhaps this is what I would want you to know most:

You do not have to choose between grieving and believing.

You can cry and still trust God.

You can miss someone and still rejoice.

You can carry memories of yesterday while becoming hopeful about tomorrow.

You can have questions and still worship.

And you can experience tremendous loss without allowing that loss to convince you that your story is over.

Because for those who belong to Jesus, death is not the conclusion.

Jesus is.

So today, my heart is adorned with praise.

Thank You, Father, for Athanie’s life.

Thank You, Jesus, for the promise of eternity.

Thank You, Holy Spirit, for the comfort and grace that sustained us when our own strength could not.

Thank You for every prayer answered, every unexpected miracle, every memory, every moment of love, and every reminder that You were with us.

And thank You for teaching me something I could never have fully understood without walking through this valley:

The faithfulness of God is not measured by whether life unfolds according to our plans. It is discovered when our plans fall away and we realize that He is still there.

Some days we may only have enough strength to hold onto the hem of His robe.

Other days we may find ourselves resting peacefully in His arms.

And eventually, we may discover ourselves standing again—with gratitude for what was, hope for what is coming, and praise for the God who carried us through it all.

Great is His faithfulness. His love never fails.

And in Jesus, even death has lost its sting.