Healing isn’t linear.
It doesn’t move in neat, forward-facing lines. It loops and circles back. It surprises you in ordinary moments. And sometimes, grief hits differently depending on the season you’re in.
On February 13, 2001, my grandma passed away.
I was in sixth grade, getting ready for our Valentine’s Day party at school. At the time, I loved Valentine’s Day. I loved the pink cards, the candy hearts, the joy of it all. But that day changed everything for me… in more ways than one.
For years afterward, Valentine’s Day wasn’t sweet. It was left as a reminder of my broken heart. A day that carried sorrow instead of the excitement it once had. Grief has a way of attaching itself to dates on a calendar, right? Even when life keeps moving, those dates can stop you in your tracks.
Over time, I found myself caring less about the holiday. It just didn’t feel important anymore.
But healing has a way of showing up in unexpected places.
When I started dating my husband, he made it a point to get me flowers every Valentine’s Day. I love flowers. Always have. But it wasn’t just about the bouquet. It was about the consistency. The way he honored something that had become complicated for me.
His steady love began healing something in me that I didn’t even realize still needed healing.
Later, when we found out we were pregnant with our first child (a girl), I shared a memory from my childhood that meant so much to me. Every Valentine’s Day, my dad would get my mom flowers… and he would get me flowers too. It was a sweet reminder that I had a dad that loved me and thought of me, even when he didn’t have to… since he married my mom when I was 6 years old.
My husband loved that tradition immediately. He has carried it on for our girls ever since. He is such a gift as a girl dad. Watching him hand them flowers each year feels like watching legacy unfold in real time.
And then came another layer of redemption.
I began something that started small as a galentines tea. It has now become Galentine’s Day Brunch and my girls look forward to it each year. This has offered a sweet redemption to January 13th, a date that used to make me curl up in a blanket and wait for the day to pass.
Every year, I set the table with intention. I set & decorate the table. I prepare the food. I set out a special game or craft. And as I do, I feel something holy happening in the chaos of my kitchen.
What was once a day I dreaded has become a day I prepare for with joy.
Fifteen years later, here I am — setting a table on a date that once marked heartbreak.
Healing isn’t linear.
Sometimes it looks like tears.
Sometimes it looks like flowers.
Sometimes it looks like a beautifully set table filled with little girls laughing.
God is so kind in the way He redeems our stories. He doesn’t erase the loss. He doesn’t pretend the grief didn’t happen. But He weaves beauty into it. He plants new memories where old pain used to live.
If you’re carrying a date that feels heavy, I want you to know this:
Redemption is possible.
It may take time. It may take new traditions. It may take brave love and gentle consistency.
But what once held sorrow can, by God’s grace, hold sweetness again.
A Gentle Prayer
Father,
You see the dates on our calendar that still ache.
You know the memories that feel tender and unresolved.
Would You meet us there?
Would You begin weaving beauty where grief once settled?
Give us courage to create new rhythms, to open our hearts again,
and to trust that You are still redeeming every part of our story.
Amen.
Soft Call to Action
If this resonates with you, you may also love my upcoming book, A Pace of Grace: Steadying Your Spirit When Life Is Messy. It’s an invitation to slow down, anchor your identity in Christ, and find peace even in the places that once felt painful.
You can learn more here → https://amzn.to/4kAPTiU