Grieving With Hope After Miscarriage And Loss By Adriel BookerMuestra

Day Two

The Wildness of Grief

Scripture: Psalm 69:1-4

I remember the days of wanting to crawl into a cave, find a place to curl up there in the quiet, and never wake up. It wasn’t that I actually wanted to die, it’s just that I didn’t know how to live under the weight of my sadness and collapsed expectations.

Out of nowhere, sorrow would hit me like a heat wave, pressing on my chest, leaving me desperate to peel off layers so I could find some relief. But even while experiencing intense loneliness, I also remember feeling the sweetness of God’s presence in some of those shadowy hours. Something told me his quietness wasn’t abandonment—it was companionship. 

This isn’t to say I could always feel his presence, or that I didn’t long for something more tangible—a touch or a word. (A billboard in flashing neon lights with a backdrop of double rainbows would have been nice.) But even when I felt like I was groping in the dark, I somehow knew there was a God acquainted with pain who stayed with me in mine. 

Maybe this hasn’t been your experience at all. Maybe you’re wondering how your soul will ever rest after what feels like endless grief or a faith that never quite recovered. Maybe God seems absent or quiet. Or maybe those words—“no heartbeat”—have just been uttered in your direction and you’re looking for a lifeline. Maybe you’re wondering if you’ll ever feel close to God again or if your faith is even worth holding on to while you wait. Maybe you just want to know you’re not alone. 

I wish I could tell you that you will “feel” Jesus near when you need him most, but I cannot. Who am I to presume my experience will translate into yours? I will not. And this, friend, is the truth of grief: It’s wild. Grief does not follow a blueprint. It minds no flowchart. It doesn’t tick off boxes, it will not be contained in your favorite list app, and it most certainly won’t stay put on the calendar. 

Grief is wild like the sea, but it doesn’t need to destroy us. We can’t conquer it, but we can navigate it, and we can find Jesus there too. 

How has grief been wild, rather than tame, in your life recently?