Held in the Waves of Grief

I watch Maddy and Audrey from the shore in Hawaii, their surf lesson well underway. They have moved beyond the calmer waters now, out into the real waves. The ocean is relentless, sending swells one after another.

I see Maddy struggling to get back on to her board. Each time she tries, a wave knocks her off again. And again. And again. I can see her frustration, her energy draining with every failed attempt.

I silently send a thought to her: Just hold on to the board, Maddy. Wait for a break in the waves. There will be a moment when the water settles just enough for you to regain your strength, to steady yourself, to move forward. You don’t have to fight every wave. Just hold on.

Grief is like that. The waves come, and they knock us under. The loss hits, and suddenly we are grasping for breath, disoriented, struggling just to stay afloat. I lost my dad a few days ago, and the waves of grief crash over me, unrelenting. Some waves I see coming, others blindside me, pulling me under before I even know what’s happened. My instinct is to fight, to push forward, to try to “do” something with the grief. But maybe, for now, I just need to hold on.

There will be moments to move forward, but there will also be moments to be still. Moments to let the waves wash over me, to rest in the arms of grace, to trust that I am not alone in these waters. And if I go under, I know there are hands - God’s hands, the hands of those who love me...reaching for me, holding me up when I cannot hold myself.

Grief does not come with a map or a timeline. It is an ocean, vast and deep, sometimes calm, often wild. But even in its fierce storms, there is always air to breathe, always something to hold onto. God is here, in the middle of it all. His presence is the steady board beneath me, the break in the waves, the lifeline when I fear I might drown.

So I will not set my eyes too far ahead into the unknown sea of sorrow. I will take this moment as it comes, this breath, this wave. And I will trust that when I cannot stand, when I cannot even swim - I will be held.