Turning a Corner
August 1, 2026 — Karen McGrath
July 15, 2026 was the calendar date that marked five years since my son went Home. As much as I may try to fight against that day feeling like a permanently marked before/after day in my lifetime, I know it is likely to remain that way until the day our Lord calls me Home. Five years without Jesse is a significant milestone for me, and I have felt a profound shift in how I have carried my grief over this past year. We all will meet our personal milestones in grief within our own unique circumstances. This unwelcomed journey we are on is not a race. It is a distinct and difficult path that has been set before each of us.
The grief journey is different for everyone, but looking back, I remember the third year as being my most difficult (although every year has its own remarkable challenges). The fourth year was the year that I realized I had the strength to lean back into many opportunities I had been embracing before Jesse died, and additional ones that I never would have imagined. During that fourth year I went back to teaching full-time and began having the courage to engage in environments that I knew would stretch me.
As much as I never thought I would say this, I can feel myself opening my hands and beginning to build a new life that focuses on fleshing out the plans our Lord has for me to do.
Are you familiar with Jeremiah 29:11-13? Like many, this is a passage that God used to speak to my heart when I first began to understand the Gospel, faith, and trusting in God’s ways over what the world offers us. The New King James Bible version is slightly different from other translations that I have read. As a bereaved parent, this version feels most appropriate to me. “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon Me and go and pray to Me, and I will listen to you. And you will seek me and find Me, when you search for Me with all Your heart.” Many other translations begin with “For I know the plans” instead of “For I know the thoughts.” Thoughts cause me to pause and remember that I am known by God intimately, and this brings me comfort. Jeremiah’s message was given to His people who had been carried away captive to Babylon. They were experiencing a nightmare come to life. Can you relate? I sure can.
I feel like I am gradually and intrinsically re-establishing my identity of being a bereaved parent. Before July 15, 2021, I could not imagine how much losing a child would change me. Although losing a child is not uncommon, it is unimaginable until experienced. My heart has always ached for bereaved parents, but I did not understand how the hearts of bereaved mothers and fathers change forever. In an instant I saw everything differently. Everything.
Everything went dark, then I only saw in grays for a very long time. Today, I see colors that I never realized existed. I began to understand that excruciating pain and peace can exist at the same time. They had to, or I would not have been able to press on. Psalm 34:18 is relatable in ways I never imagined. “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.”
Psalms have become love letters. Relationships are most precious to me. My ambitions are eternally focused.
Our Lord is not surprised by our tragic circumstances, but He does grieve with us and He restores our hearts. Hebrews 4:16 encourages us to “come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace in time of need.”
It is my prayer that in whatever season of grief you are in, you will trust that you are in our Creator’s thoughts, He grieves with You, and a day is coming when our hearts will be restored. Revelation 21:4 promises this: “And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.”
