Can we talk about acceptance for a minute?

Because if you've been grieving for any length of time, you've probably heard that word.

Acceptance.

As if one day you're supposed to wake up, look at everything you've lost, and somehow be okay with it.

I don't think that's what acceptance is at all.

I think acceptance is much quieter than that.

It's not saying, I'm okay with what happened.

It's saying, This happened. This is part of my story now. And somehow, with God's help, I have to learn how to live in the life that's in front of me.

And some days, that's really hard.

There Is No Right Way to Do This

One thing I've learned about grief is that everybody does it differently.

Some people need to talk. Some people don't want to talk at all.

Some people want company all the time because the silence is too much. Others need to be alone because being around people takes more energy than they have to give.

Some people leave everything exactly where it was. Others need to put things away.

Some people cry every day. Others are surprised by how few tears come.

And you know what?

None of those things mean you loved more or less.

There isn't a rulebook for this.

There isn't a certain number of months when you should be ready to clean out a closet, take off a wedding ring, go somewhere alone, celebrate a holiday differently, date again, or make plans for a future you never imagined having.

Your grief is yours. You get to take the time you need.

Please Don't Compare Your Grief

This one can be difficult.

We look around and see someone else who has experienced a loss and think, Why are they doing so much better than I am?

But we don't really know what happens when that person goes home and closes the door.

And even if they are doing well, their journey isn't yours.

Maybe they were ready to make a change after six months. Maybe you'll need six years.

That's okay.

You aren't behind.

Grief isn't a race, and there's no prize for reaching some imaginary finish line first.

In fact, I'm not sure there is a finish line. I think we simply get better at carrying what happened.

Acceptance Doesn't Mean Letting Go

I think this is where a lot of us struggle.

Because accepting this new life can feel a little too much like letting go of the old one.

You might wonder:

If I start enjoying my life again, am I forgetting?

If I make new memories, am I replacing the old ones?

If I laugh, am I supposed to feel guilty?

If I start looking forward to something, does that mean I'm moving on?

No.

You can miss someone and still laugh. You can treasure yesterday and look forward to tomorrow. You can be grateful for the life you have today while still wishing parts of your old life could come back.

Both can be true.

That's something grief has taught me over and over again.

Joy and sadness can sit at the same table.

Some Days Acceptance Looks Pretty Ordinary

We sometimes imagine acceptance as this big emotional breakthrough.

I don't think it usually happens that way.

Sometimes acceptance is getting out of bed. Sometimes it's going to the grocery store alone. Sometimes it's cooking dinner for one when you used to cook for two. Sometimes it's answering the question, "How are you?" without knowing what to say.

Sometimes it's laughing at something and realizing you didn't feel guilty afterward.

Sometimes it's changing something in your home.

And sometimes it's looking at that same thing and saying, Nope. Not today. I'm not ready.

That's okay too. You don't have to prove anything.

And Then There Are the Days When You Don't Accept It Very Well

Those days come too.

You can think you're doing pretty well, and then something catches you completely off guard.

A song. A smell. A photograph. A date on the calendar. Someone saying their name. An ordinary trip to the grocery store.

Suddenly, you're right back in that place where you would give anything for life to be different.

That doesn't mean you've failed. It doesn't mean you've gone backward. It means grief showed up today.

So you let it sit with you for a while.

And tomorrow, you try again.

Where Does God Fit Into All of This?

Right in the middle of it.

I used to think having strong faith meant I needed to handle the hard things better. But grief has a way of stripping away all the polished answers.

Sometimes all you have left is:

God, I don't understand.

God, I don't want this.

God, I miss what I had.

God, please help me get through today.

And those are prayers too.

Psalm 34:18 tells us: "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."

I love the word close.

God doesn't wait somewhere down the road for us to finally get our grief together. He meets us right here. In the messy middle. In the tears. In the anger. In the loneliness. In the questions we may never have answered.

He's here.

Maybe This Is What Acceptance Really Looks Like

Maybe acceptance isn't waking up one morning and deciding you're finally okay with everything that happened.

Maybe it's much simpler.

Maybe it's saying:

I wish things were different.

I still miss what I had.

There are parts of this I will probably never understand.

But I'm still here.

And because I'm still here, there is still life to be lived. There are still people to love. There are still meals to share. There are still reasons to laugh. There are still new memories waiting to be made.

And there is still a God who promises to walk with me through every bit of it.

So if you're struggling with acceptance today, don't worry about doing grief the "right" way. There isn't one.

Take today as it comes. Cry if you need to cry. Laugh when something is funny. Talk about what you lost. Say their name. Keep the things you're not ready to let go of. Make changes when you're ready.

And please don't feel guilty when you catch yourself enjoying life again.

Living isn't forgetting.

Maybe acceptance is simply being able to look at the life you never would have chosen and say:

"God, I still wish this story had gone differently. But this is where I am. Walk with me as I learn how to live from here."

And then tomorrow? We get up and do it again.

One day at a time.

From My Table to Yours

If you're sitting in that place between what was and what is, there's a seat for you here.

You don't have to have it figured out. You don't have to pretend you're okay. And you certainly don't have to grieve according to anyone else's timeline.

Come as you are.

We'll figure out this life after loss together — one meal, one memory, one prayer, and one day at a time.