The impact of Governor Tim Walz's decisions during the 2020 lockdowns has left a lasting impression on the mental health of Minnesotans—men, women, and children alike. The closure of in-person state services created a vacuum where essential support systems once thrived. Individuals who relied on face-to-face interactions for mental health services found themselves isolated, exacerbating feelings of anxiety and depression at a time when support was needed most.
Furthermore, the state’s response to the unrest following the death of George Floyd raised serious concerns about leadership. Governor Walz faced criticism for delaying the call for the National Guard to assist Minneapolis, despite Mayor Jacob Frey's urgent requests just hours prior. This hesitation contributed to the chaos that enveloped the city, leaving residents to grapple not only with the physical consequences of the riots but also with the emotional toll taken by witnessing their communities unravel.
As the pandemic progressed, the State Health Department’s shifting metrics added another layer of confusion and frustration. When the original figures didn’t align with expectations, alterations in reporting strategies raised skepticism among the public. This led many to question the validity of the data being shared, which was vital for navigating the ongoing crisis.
In nursing homes, the policy to place active COVID-19 patients in facilities with vulnerable populations has been particularly devastating. This decision led to a tragic loss of life, with many older adults succumbing to the virus, further straining the mental and emotional wellbeing of families who felt that their loved ones were not adequately protected.
The trial of former officer Derek Chauvin has also stirred deep divisions. Many viewed the resulting guilty verdict as the culmination of a highly charged atmosphere influenced by ongoing protests. Critically, there emerged a refusal to acknowledge the findings of the original medical exam report, which suggested that George Floyd’s death was not solely due to the actions of Chauvin but involved underlying drug use. This selective narrative has fueled further unrest and discontent, leaving many feeling that discussions around justice are overshadowed by broader societal tensions.
As we reflect on these events, it becomes clear that the intersection of public health, governance, and social justice during a crisis has profound implications for the mental health of our communities. The choices made during this tumultuous period will reverberate for years to come.
The silence in the Miller home was a heavy, suffocating thing. It had settled in the week after Lily’s funeral, an unwelcome guest who refused to leave. Before, the house had thrummed with life: Lily’s giggles, the clang of pots as Sarah, the mother, cooked, the rumble of Mark, the father, working on his latest woodworking project in the garage, and the energetic chatter of their son, eight-year-old Noah.
Now, the silence echoed, punctuated only by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway, each tick a mournful reminder of time moving on without their precious Lily. Lily had been a spark, a whirlwind of blonde curls and infectious joy. At five years old, she’d illuminated every room she entered. A sudden, aggressive illness had stolen her, swift and brutal, leaving a chasm in their lives that felt insurmountable.
Sarah, a woman usually grounded in faith and a calming presence, found herself adrift. The prayers that had once soothed her now felt like hollow words. She’d stand in Lily’s pink-draped room, tracing the patterns on the little quilt her daughter had loved, and whisper, “Why, God? Why?”
The answer never came, or if it did, it was lost in the deafening roar of her grief. She’d stare at the Bible on her nightstand, its pages usually dog-eared and marked with encouraging verses, but now it seemed to mock her with its promises of comfort she couldn’t find. Mark, a man of quiet strength, tried to hold them together. He’d hug Sarah tightly, murmuring words of love and reassurance, but his own heart was fractured. He found himself struggling with the same questions, his faith tested like never before.
He’d see other children playing in the park, their laughter sharp and piercing, and his chest would ache with a pain that felt physical. He’d retreat to his workshop, the scent of sawdust and wood shavings usually a balm, but now the tools felt foreign in his hands, the unfinished projects a stark reminder of Lily’s unfinished life.
Noah, the youngest, bore his grief in silence. He’d become withdrawn, his bright eyes now shadowed and distant.
He’d hug his stuffed animals tighter at night, whispering stories to them that were meant for Lily. He’d ask questions that Sarah and Mark struggled to answer. “Is Lily in heaven with Jesus, Mommy?” he’d ask, his voice small. Sarah would nod, tears welling, and try to explain about eternal peace, but the words felt inadequate, thin shields against the sharp edges of his pain.
He missed her stories, her silly songs, the way she’d always share her cookies with him. The church community rallied around them, offering casseroles, prayers, and quiet support.
Pastor Davies, a kind man with a weary wisdom, would visit regularly, his gentle sermons a constant reminder of God’s love, even when it felt out of reach. He’d share stories of his own loss, his voice thick with emotion, and while it didn’t erase their pain, it made them feel less alone in their struggle.
One Sunday, during the offertory, the sanctuary choir sang a hymn Sarah had always loved, a hymn about God’s unwavering presence.
Tears streamed down her face, but this time, they weren’t solely of sorrow. Amidst the crushing weight of their loss, a tiny flicker of something else began to stir. It was the memory of Lily’s own unwavering faith, her simple, unquestioning belief that God loved her. She remembered how Lily would pray before bed, her tiny hands clasped, a smile on her face.
That evening, Sarah found Noah sitting on the rug in Lily’s room, carefully arranging Lily’s doll collection. He looked up, his eyes meeting hers. “Mommy,” he said, his voice soft, “Lily would want us to be happy.” Sarah’s breath hitched. It was so simple, so profoundly true.
Lily, even in her absence, was offering them a path forward. Slowly, tentatively, the Millers began to navigate their new reality. The silence still lingered, but it was no longer absolute. They started talking, really talking, about Lily, sharing memories, both joyful and heartbreaking.
Sarah began to read the Bible again, not searching for answers, but for comfort, for reminders of the love that transcended even death. She found solace in verses that spoke of hope and redemption, even if the full understanding felt distant.
Mark started to tinker in his workshop again, not rushing, but allowing himself the quiet focus it provided.
He began to carve a small wooden angel, a gift for Lily’s grave, pouring his grief and his love into each careful stroke of the chisel.
Noah, seeing his parents begin to heal, started to unfurl. He’d tell them stories about Lily, his imagination bringing her back to life in their shared memories. He started to draw pictures again, vibrant colors filling the pages, his own way of holding onto Lily’s light.
There were still days when the grief would hit them like a tidal wave, days when the silence felt as deafening as ever.
But now, amidst the pain, there were also moments of shared smiles, of quiet comfort, of rediscovered hope.
Their faith, once a source of questioning and doubt, was slowly becoming a beacon, a gentle reminder that even in the darkest valleys, God’s love was a constant, unwavering presence.
They knew the scars of Lily’s loss would never fully disappear, but they were learning to carry them, not as a burden of despair, but as a testament to the profound love they had shared, a love that, they believed, would one day be reunited in the eternal embrace of their Heavenly Father.
The silence was the first thing that settled. Not a peaceful quiet, but a thick, suffocating blanket that pressed down on the house, on their chests, on their very souls. Clara was gone. And with her, the laughter, the vibrant chaos, the sheer *life* that had filled every corner of their existence. For weeks, the world outside continued, oblivious.
Sunlight still streamed through the windows, birds still sang, and the mail still arrived, a cruel reminder of a normal that no longer existed. For Sarah and Mark, and their surviving son, ten-year-old Leo, time had fractured. Days bled into nights, marked only by the gnawing emptiness in their stomachs and the aching in their hearts. Sarah, a whirlwind of energy before, moved through the house like a ghost, her eyes vacant. She’d trace the patterns on Clara’s unused art supplies, her fingers trembling. Mark, stoic and practical, tried to hold things together, but the effort was Herculean.
He’d stare at Clara’s empty seat at the dinner table, his fork hovering, his appetite a distant memory. Leo, tiny and fragile in the face of this immensity, retreated. He’d build elaborate Lego fortresses in his room, his only companions the plastic figures that couldn’t understand the profound sadness that permeated their world. He’d whisper to them, his small voice a fragile thread in the silence, recounting stories of Clara, his voice cracking with unshed tears.
The first flicker of *survive* came not as a grand revelation, but as a desperate, primal urge. It was a Monday morning, a week shy of two months since the accident. Sarah, staring into the abyss of another day, felt a tremor deep within her. It wasn’t hope, not yet. It was more like a primal instinct to just *keep breathing*. She got out of bed. She didn't make breakfast. The thought of it was nauseating. Instead, she went to the kitchen sink and splashed cold water on her face, the shock a small, welcome jolt. She looked in the mirror, her reflection a stranger. But she saw a flicker, a faint spark behind the shadowed eyes. That spark, however small, was enough.
Mark, seeing Sarah emerge from her bedroom, her hair unbrushed but her feet on the floor, felt a similar, though less defined, stirring. He found himself making toast. It was dry, burnt around the edges, but he put it on a plate. He didn’t expect anyone to eat it. Leo, drawn by the faint clatter from the kitchen, peeked around the doorframe.
He saw his parents, his usually vibrant mother looking gaunt, his steady father’s shoulders slumped, but they were *there*. They were present, in the same space. It was a minuscule shift, but it was a shift. The next step in their survival wasn't about forgetting. It was about *enduring*.
They started small. Sarah began tidying Clara’s room, not to erase her, but to honor her. She folded Clara’s favorite t-shirts, her touch gentle, her tears falling onto the soft fabric. It was an act of love, however painful.
Mark, instead of trying to avoid Clara’s things, began to sort through her books. He read passages aloud, his voice thick with emotion, sharing Clara’s love for stories with Leo.
Leo, at first withdrawn, would listen from the doorway, his Lego creations momentarily forgotten.
They didn’t force conversation. The grief was too raw, too vast. But they started to be *together*.
They’d sit in the living room, not talking, just existing in each other’s presence. Mark would read the newspaper, Sarah would stare out the window, and Leo would play quietly on the floor.
The silence was still there, but it was no longer entirely suffocating. It was punctuated by the rustle of pages, the soft whir of Leo’s toys, the quiet breaths of their survival. One
evening, Mark found Sarah looking at old family photos. Tears streamed down her face, but for the first time, there was a hint of a smile.
"Remember this trip to the lake?" she whispered, pointing to Clara, her arms around a younger Leo. Mark sat beside her. "She loved that kite," he said, his voice husky.
Leo, drawn by their voices, came to them. He looked at the photo, his brow furrowed.
Then, with a small, brave gesture, he reached out and touched Clara’s smiling face in the picture. "She always got the kite stuck in the trees," he said, a faint hint of a giggle in his voice. It was a tiny moment, a fragile ripple in the ocean of their sorrow. But for Sarah and Mark, it was monumental.
It was the first sound of laughter in the house since Clara had been gone. It was the first real connection they had felt as a family in weeks.
Survival, they were learning, wasn’t about erasing the pain, but about finding ways to live alongside it. It was about acknowledging the gaping hole Clara had left, but also about tending to the parts of themselves that were still beating, still breathing.
They started taking walks, small, hesitant excursions into the world. Sarah would point out flowers, her voice still quiet, but no longer numb.
Mark would hold Leo’s hand, his grip firm and reassuring. They learned to appreciate the simple things – the warmth of the sun on their skin, the taste of a shared meal, the quiet comfort of each other's presence. They didn’t pretend. They didn't put on a brave face for the world.
Their grief was evident, etched into their tired eyes and subdued demeanor. But within the walls of their home, a new kind of strength was emerging. It was a quiet, resilient strength, born from shared pain and a fierce determination to not let Clara’s absence extinguish their own lives.
Months turned into a year. The initial shock had faded, replaced by a persistent ache. But the silence was no longer absolute. There were whispers, then hesitant conversations. There were shared memories, tinged with sadness, but also with love.
There were moments of genuine connection, fleeting but precious.
Leo, no longer building fortresses of solitude, started drawing again. His drawings were filled with bright colors, but there were always streaks of blue and grey, and a figure with a halo of sunshine. He’d show them to his parents, his small hand reaching out for their approval.
Sarah started cooking again, not for herself, but for her family. The meals were simple, but they were made with love.
Mark found solace in gardening, tending to the flowers Clara had loved, his hands in the soil, grounding him.
They would never forget Clara. Her absence would always be a part of them. But they were surviving, not by erasing her, but by carrying her memory forward, by living lives that honored her spirit.
They were learning to breathe again, to connect again, to find moments of beauty in the midst of their profound loss. Their survival was a testament to the enduring power of love, the resilience of the human spirit, and the quiet strength found in the simple act of choosing to live, one breath, one moment, one shared memory at a time.
If you are grieving the loss of a loved one please know there is hope and you can find it at griefshare. New Hope Church Minnesota has a Griefshare Surviving the holidays seminar coming up in November. For details you can contact New Hope at Newhopechurchmn.org
I began volunteering one day a week at the Legacy thrift store ( formerly Bibles for Missions). My assignment is to greet the people at the loading dock who are bringing belongings they no longer need. Every once in a while, I will encounter someone with a truck full of their deceased loved one's belongings. I could tell as I listened to them that it took a lot for them to go through their loved ones 'stuff and finally bring it to the thrift store. The timeline when they do it is as unique as the person they lost.
This brings me to the topic of broken heart syndrome. I read several news accounts of celebrities who, after they lost a loved one, suddenly die of this condition.
There are countless other examples of this type of death. I mention this because, all too often, I see people postpone processing the trauma from a sudden loss of a close loved one. I am likely to see more women attending grief support groups than men. Men who do seek out a support group often come after realizing that alcohol or drugs are not the solution for resolving their deep, inner pain. Trauma needs to be verbally expressed, not hidden deep inside the person who is grieving.
Ask any doctor, and they will acknowledge the deadly nature of trauma. Endless sleepless nights, too much alcohol to numb the pain, unhealthy snacking, and isolating oneself out of shame are all common after such a loss. As people spiral downward, their health symptoms worsen. Addiction to food or chemicals during this time puts undue pressure on the heart, causing issues like palpitations.
On the Mayo Clinic website, there is this information on what to look for. Palpitations that are infrequent and last only a few seconds usually don't need to be evaluated. If you have a history of heart disease and have palpitations that occur frequently or worsen, talk to your health care provider. You may need heart-monitoring tests to see if the palpitations are caused by a more serious heart problem.
Seek emergency medical attention if heart palpitations occur with:
Chest discomfort or pain
Fainting
Severe shortness of breath
Severe dizziness
This is why Grief Share recommends that after a traumatic loss, you should see your primary doctor and let them know about your loss. Your caring doctor will likely order some tests to help them monitor the situation.
The most important reason is that you need to be there for your surviving loved ones. They need you around, and abandoning them with your sudden death only complicates their grieving.
There is a spiritual component that can help you through the trauma of your loss.
It's leaning on Jesus Christ who lives in your heart. He hears you every time you cry.
He senses you every time you shake from the trauma.
He is your redeemer who loves you more than you could ever know.
If you're not sure you know Jesus, all it takes is asking Jesus to come into your life.
The bible says in John 5:24, "Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life. He does not come into judgment, but has passed from death to life." A simple prayer of confession and yielding your life to Jesus is all it takes to have this assurance.
Finally, I usually recommend you find a grief share group nearest you. Some make the mistake and postpone going to this group, but the sooner you can start, the sooner you will begin saying your loved one's name while sharing your story with the other participants.
As you continue on this uncharted journey of loss, you will notice the tenderizing effects it has on your body and mind. You will notice how God has made you sensitive to the needs around you. You're no longer thinking like a narcissistic self, but everywhere you go, you are thinking of the other person's needs.
God has a plan to make you whole again, but also to use you in ways he couldn't before. In Isaiah 43:18-19 are these words, “Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert."
This is the beautiful part of what it means to walk with God through grief.
28 “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Matthew 11:28-29
On my way home, I heard the story of a world war 2 veteran that was captured and held in a Japanese interment camp where was held captive and was subjected to untold torture. When the war ended and he returned home to America, this veteran continually held those dark secrets deep in his soul.
Many years later when his own son died, he finally cracked. I wish the outcome was he sought help from the VA, but the reality was he committed suicide. To him, this was his way of escaping the pain of those long lasting images of war and the recent death of his son.
Today, we continue to hear of heart break stories after the loss of a loved one.
In fact, after such a loss, we come face to face with the proverbial fork in the road. One part leads to seeking professional help to recovery, while the other fork leads to drug and alcohol addiction, anger and isolation. Some become so paralyzed that they can't seem to get out of bed.
Anger can become so debilitating that it can cause some to stop going to church, or open their bible. Their faulty perception becomes," why would a 'good' God take my loved one? Whey couldn't he have taken the criminal with a extensive rap sheet instead instead of my loved one who did everything good in this life?'Only God truly understands the pain of his people. Only He can see the well worn sandles on their feet and their moist eyes from crying.
As the video went on the conversation switched over to the act of forgiveness. Jesus's death on the cross and his resurrection enabled him to become our intermediator between us and God. He enabled all of us to invite the living savior into our heart, and with that God's whispering Holy spirit in times of trouble. He enabled us to be able to bring our concerns, our worries, our anxieties, to God.
We learned about the importance of journaling our concerns, our worries and our anxieties.
For me, putting that on paper allows those thoughts to become a little less traumatizing. The life of your loved one may be over, but your life is still going- don't let the loss of your loved one define you. It is when we lean into our savior that God gives us a heart of compassion to help others to others.
Picture, if you will, seeing Jesus waving for you to take the right path, but the pain has caused you're eyes to cloud over so you can't see the Savior. It is when you get up and acknowledge all of your fears to God when your eyes focus on the living savior and you see Jesus waving you to come toward him the the chosen path he has for you.
Unresolved grief can often lead to post traumatic stress much like the world war 2 veteran who couldn't bare to go on after the loss of his son. God loves you and has a plan for your life. Lean into the savior and he will eventually reveal that plan.
There is help to help you recover. I recommend you check out Griefshare.org and find a group near you. Griefshare is a 13 week group that will give you the skills you need to process the emotional pain of your loss.
It was an ordinary Tuesday morning when the world suddenly fell silent. At precisely 8:00 AM, every electronic device across the globe ceased to function. Phones, computers, televisions, and even the most basic appliances went dark, leaving humanity in a state of bewilderment.
In a bustling city, Sarah, a dedicated marketing executive, was preparing for a big presentation. She had spent weeks crafting the perfect pitch, relying heavily on her laptop and projector. As the screen flickered and then went black, panic surged through her. She rushed to her colleagues, only to find them equally disoriented, their digital tools rendered useless. The conference room, once filled with the hum of technology, now echoed with confusion and anxiety.
Meanwhile, across town, Tom, a paramedic, was on his way to a routine shift. His ambulance, equipped with state-of-the-art communication devices, was silent. As he arrived at the station, he found his fellow paramedics grappling with the same issue. Without their radios or GPS systems, they had to rely on their training and instincts to navigate the city. The absence of technology forced them to connect with each other and their patients in a way they hadn’t done in years, fostering a sense of camaraderie and teamwork.
In a nearby school, Ms. Jenkins, a high school science teacher, faced a different challenge. Her classroom, usually filled with interactive displays and digital resources, felt empty. Yet, instead of despair, she saw an opportunity. With no access to screens, she took her students outside, encouraging them to observe the natural world. They discussed the principles of physics while watching birds soar and leaves flutter. The day transformed into a hands-on learning experience, igniting a spark of curiosity that technology often overshadowed.
By evening, news outlets reported that the global blackout was due to a massive solar flare, and technicians were working around the clock to restore power. But as the sun set, many found themselves reluctant to return to their screens. They had discovered the beauty of human connection, creativity, and the simple joys of life without the constant buzz of technology.
When the electronics finally came back to life, the world was forever changed. People had learned to appreciate the moments that often went unnoticed, and a newfound sense of community blossomed. The day the screens went dark had illuminated the importance of connection, creativity, and the human spirit.
Millions of people were profoundly effected by Charlie Kirk's assassination. Lady Gaga was so overcome when she heard the news that she wrote a tribute song honoring Charlie.
Sarah, a graphic designer used her skills to artistically render a tribute picture of Charlie for the coffee cups at her friends coffee shop.
I think all of us can agree that no man should be killed for expressing his hope for America and sharing hope to a younger generation looking for a hero to be inspired from.
Charlie Kirk opened up the eyes of the whole world. The conservative movement has been reborn because the younger generation have woken up.
The worn leather of the steering wheel felt familiar under Sarah's grip. She adjusted the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of her determined eyes. Beside her, the empty passenger seat was a silent testament to her solo mission. Sarah, a graphic designer with an unexpected passion for political commentary, had spent weeks crafting the perfect decal. It wasn't just a sticker; it was a declaration. She wanted to honor Charlie Kirk and his "We Are Charlie Kirk" conservative movement. The vinyl, a deep, resonant blue, bore the stylized logo she’d designed, a bold statement that felt like a rallying cry. She imagined the impact it would have, a quiet but potent symbol of shared values spreading across the nation, one car at a time.
Her destination was a small, unassuming diner on the outskirts of town, a place known for its surprisingly strong coffee and its unassuming clientele. It was here, amidst the clatter of plates and the murmur of conversations, that she’d arranged to meet Mark, a local small business owner who’d echoed her sentiments online. Mark, a staunch believer in fiscal responsibility and individual liberty, saw the "We Are Charlie Kirk" movement as a vital force for positive change. He’d offered his modest garage for Sarah to set up a small station, a place where like-minded individuals could pick up the decals and perhaps share their own stories of engagement. Sarah pulled into the parking lot, the anticipation a tangible hum in the air. This was more than just spreading a message; it was about building community, brick by brick, decal by decal.
As Sarah stepped out, a wave of quiet recognition passed through the few early arrivals. Mark, recognizable by the handshake he’d described, greeted her with a warm smile. He gestured towards a small table laden with the blue decals, each one a miniature banner of belief. Sarah felt a surge of pride. This was it – the beginning of something. The "We Are Charlie Kirk" movement wasn't just a catchy phrase; it was a growing network, individuals like her and Mark, connecting, sharing, and ultimately, honoring the ideals they held dear, one conversation and one decal at a time, a quiet revolution unfolding in the heartland.
In a small town nestled between rolling hills and winding rivers, lives a woman named Laurie whose life was once overshadowed by despair. For years, she battled inner demons—loss, loneliness, and a sense that she was unworthy of happiness. But everything changed on a Sunday morning when she heard a simple message: that Jesus Christ’s love is greater than any pain, that His sacrifice offers forgiveness and new beginnings.
Laurie remembers that day vividly. As she listened to the pastor speak about grace and redemption, something stirred deep within her. She felt a warmth, a gentle reassurance that she was not alone, and that her life could be transformed. She decided to accept Jesus as her savior, opening her heart to His love.
From that moment, miracles began to unfold. Laurie found her burdens lifted—her heart filled with peace she had never known. She reconciled relationships long torn apart, forgiving those who had hurt her and receiving forgiveness in return. Her health improved as anxiety and despair melted away, replaced by hope and purpose.
Over time, Laurie became a shining example in her community. She started a support group for those struggling with addiction and grief, sharing her story of faith and healing. Her kindness and unwavering faith inspired others to seek the same hope and renewal she had found.
The miracles flowing from knowing Jesus are countless—healing broken hearts, restoring hope in despair, inspiring acts of kindness, and transforming lives from the inside out. For Laurie and many others, the gift of knowing Christ as their savior isn’t just a story of faith; it’s a living testimony that even the most lost can find light, love, and a new beginning through Jesus Christ.
28 And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who[i] have been called according to his purpose.
**Remembering Charlie Kirk: A Celebration of Faith and Resilience**Perspective by Erika Kirk
On a solemn yet uplifting afternoon at State Farm Stadium, friends, family, and supporters gathered to honor the life of Charlie Kirk, the founder of Turning Point USA, who tragically lost his life in an act of violence rooted in ideological differences. As the crowd filled the stadium, a palpable sense of grief mingled with an overwhelming spirit of community and hope.
His wife, Erika Kirk, stood before the audience with a strength that was both inspiring and heart-wrenching. In her remarks, Erika shared a heartfelt Christian testimony that resonated deeply with all who were present. “Though my heart is heavy with sorrow, I am reminded of the words in Romans 8:28: ‘And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose,’” she began, her voice steady yet filled with emotion.
Erika spoke of Charlie not just as a political figure but as a devoted husband, passionate advocate, and loving friend. “Charlie was a man of deep convictions who stood firmly for what he believed in,” she remembered. “But he was also a man who believed in the power of love, forgiveness, and faith.” Her words painted a picture of a life dedicated to service and a commitment to making the world a better place through the principles of liberty and justice.
As she continued, Erika encouraged those in attendance—and those watching from afar—to find their strength in faith, especially in these challenging times. “We must not allow fear or anger to consume us. Instead, let us turn our hearts to God, who is our refuge and strength,” she urged. “In moments of hardship, we have a choice: we can choose bitterness, or we can choose grace. Let us choose grace.”
The crowd listened intently as Erika reminded everyone that true love and compassion are the answers to divisiveness. Her message was clear: while the loss of Charlie is immeasurable, his legacy of strength, kindness, and conviction will continue to inspire and uplift hearts. “Together, let’s walk the path of love, just as Charlie did,” she said, encouraging everyone to embody the very values Charlie championed.
As the memorial service concluded, a sense of unity prevailed. People from all walks of life gathered not just to mourn a fallen leader but to commit themselves to fostering dialogue and understanding. In her compassionate and encouraging manner, Erika turned a moment of immense sorrow into a call for renewal—one filled with hope, faith, and love.
Charlie Kirk may no longer be with us in body, but his spirit lives on through the lives he touched and the values he espoused. May we honor his memory by embracing the very ideals of compassion and understanding that he stood for, and may we always remember to turn to God in both times of trial and triumph.
**Title: The Silent Echoes: Navigating Isolation and Loneliness After Loss**
Grief can be a shrouded path, marked by the profound ache of loss and often, the heavy blanket of isolation that settles in. It is a journey many undertake alone, even when surrounded by loving friends and family. The genuine connections we once enjoyed can feel distant, leading us to a landscape of loneliness that is hard to navigate.
Let me share the story of Emma, a light-hearted woman in her thirties who was a close friend to many. She was known for her infectious laughter, often filling rooms with vibrant conversations. But when she lost her father, a pivotal figure in her life, the world began to dim around her. The first few weeks were a whirlwind—offering condolences, attending the memorial service, and sharing memories. However, once the initial shock faded, so did the presence of her friends.
In the ensuing months, Emma found herself craving human connection, yet feeling increasingly isolated. Phone calls that once felt effortless turned into daunting tasks, and she avoided gatherings, fearing the eyes of those who might ask her how she was coping. Each “How are you?” that she faced felt like a cruel reminder of her loss, and so Emma retreated into her own thoughts, alone with her grief.
In society, we often celebrate the memories of those we’ve lost through shared stories. However, for Emma, this celebration became a painful reminder of the absence that was now palpable in her life. The first birthday without her father passed in silence, devoid of the usual cake and laughter. Friends sent messages of support and love, but the physical presence that had once brought comfort was no longer there, and Emma felt more disconnected than ever.
Over time, the loneliness deepened. Long evenings spent staring at the walls, scrolling through social media feeds filled with smiles and milestones, fed the silence. Emma, a usually social butterfly, now found herself wrapped in a cocoon of sorrow, struggling against the darkness that seemed to close in.
As the months turned into a year, however, something began to shift. Emma stumbled upon a grief support group, a safe space where others shared experiences that resonated with her own. Here, she discovered that she was not alone in her feelings of isolation. Other members voiced similar struggles, revealing their own battles with solitude after loss. They laughed through tears, swapped stories of their loved ones, and slowly, Emma began to feel the weight of her loneliness lift.
The power of connection became evident as Emma forged new relationships with those who understood her pain. The laughter she once shared with her father was now echoed among her newfound friends, reminding her that while loss is a formidable foe, love endures beyond the final farewell.
Isolation following a loss can feel insurmountable, yet it’s crucial for those grieving to remember that reaching out is a sign of strength. Emotional loneliness can cloud the brightest days, but it’s often the shared stories of others who travel similar paths that can light our way.
If you find yourself in the depths of grief, consider opening up. Join community groups, or seek help from a therapist. Your story resonates with others, and in the telling, you may find a connection that helps bridge the chasm of loneliness.
Emma’s journey continues, filled with both sorrow and joy as she learns to navigate life without her father. She carries him in her heart, but she has also begun to embrace the love of others around her. In sharing her narrative, she not only honors her father’s memory but also transforms her loneliness into a tapestry of shared experiences.
Remember, in the face of grief, while the journey may be deeply individual, you never have to walk it alone. There is strength in vulnerability, and in reaching out, we can find hope, healing, and connections that make the journey a little less lonely.
Title: When Grief Echoes: The Silent Weight of Loneliness and Isolation
Grief doesn’t knock. It barges in—uninvited, unrelenting, and often misunderstood. While most people associate grief with sadness, its deeper, quieter companions—loneliness and isolation—can linger long after the tears have dried and the casseroles stop arriving.
🕯️ The Invisible Aftershock
When someone we love dies, the world doesn’t just feel emptier—it becomes quieter in ways that are hard to explain. The phone calls stop. The routines unravel. The person who once filled a space in our lives is gone, and with them, the social scaffolding that held us up may collapse too.
Grief can make even the most familiar places feel foreign. A favorite coffee shop becomes a minefield of memories. A family gathering feels incomplete. And slowly, the grieving person may begin to withdraw—not because they want to be alone, but because being around others can feel like pretending.
💬 Why People Pull Away
Isolation during grief isn’t always a choice. It’s often a reaction. Many grieving individuals report feeling like they’re “too much” for others—too sad, too quiet, too broken. Friends may not know what to say, so they say nothing. Invitations dwindle. Conversations shift. And the grieving person, already navigating emotional chaos, may start to believe they’re better off alone.
This self-imposed solitude can become a cycle: grief leads to isolation, which deepens the loneliness, which intensifies the grief.
🌧️ Loneliness Isn’t Just Being Alone
Loneliness during grief is not about the absence of people—it’s about the absence of connection. You can be surrounded by others and still feel profoundly alone if no one truly understands your pain. That’s why platitudes like “they’re in a better place” or “time heals all wounds” often fall flat. What grieving people need isn’t advice—it’s presence.
🧠The Mental Toll
Research shows that prolonged loneliness can have serious effects on mental and physical health. It’s linked to depression, anxiety, sleep disturbances, and even weakened immune function. For those grieving, these risks are compounded. The emotional weight of loss, combined with the absence of meaningful support, can make healing feel impossible.
🌱 Finding Light in the Fog
So how do we break the cycle? It starts with acknowledgment. Grief is not a timeline—it’s a terrain. And loneliness is a natural part of that landscape. But it doesn’t have to be permanent.
Support groups, therapy, and even online communities can offer lifelines. Sometimes, just hearing “me too” from someone who’s been there can be enough to crack open the door to connection. Small rituals—writing letters to the deceased, lighting a candle, going for a walk—can also help rebuild a sense of self and routine.
And for those on the outside looking in: reach out. Not with solutions, but with sincerity. A simple “I’m thinking of you” or “I’m here if you want to talk” can be a balm to someone drowning in silence.
💖 A Shared Humanity
Grief is universal, yet deeply personal. Its impact on loneliness and isolation reminds us how much we need each other—not just in joy, but in sorrow. If we can learn to sit with someone in their pain, without rushing to fix it, we offer something rare and healing: companionship in the dark.
Because sometimes, the most powerful thing we can say is simply, “You’re not alone.”
John 14:6 Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me
This week has been particularly challenging for many of us as we learned about the assassination of Charlie Kirk during a speaking Q & A event on a college campus. Charlie was deeply committed to using his faith to challenge college students to think for themselves.
He held a firm belief that there are only two genders, male and female, as described in the Bible's book of Genesis. Charlie recognized that his life could be at risk at any of these rallies, yet he attended them with the hope that people would see Jesus in him, helping them to understand that the opposing viewpoint was not the correct one. Indeed, he took necessary precautions, such as wearing body armor to protect himself from any potential gunfire.
He was deeply troubled by the way public schools were influencing our children to believe they could identify as any gender they chose. His heart was heavy as he witnessed the consequences of transgender ideology, which he viewed as something that could render young children lifelong patients.
He undoubtedly spoke to individuals who recognized the harm inflicted by the medical community, which had sold them a false promise that ultimately left them no closer to being the opposite sex than someone wishing to become a sports car.
If only they had known Jesus as he did. If only Jesus could reach out to those students to remind them that they were fearfully and wonderfully made in the image of God.
He was certainly aware that our public school systems are failing children, as evidenced by declining achievement scores, seemingly more focused on ideology than on helping students achieve beyond mere 'average'.
If only they had known Jesus as Charlie knew Him.
Charlie Kirk possessed the courage to speak the truth because he understood that if his life were to end tragically, he would be welcomed into the presence of Jesus and spend eternity in heaven.
Charlie recognized that this world was not his ultimate home.
Do you know the Jesus that Charlie Kirk knew? Here
are some verses that may guide you to Jesus.
In John 14:6, "Jesus said to him, 'I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.'"
In John 3:16 "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life"
Head knowledge is not enough to earn everlasting life. You must receive Christ in your heart by first admitting you are a sinner and fall short of God's standard of perfection.Then, you must confess that Jesus is the only way to eternal life.
Finally, you must humbly come before the Lord and offer up your prayer.
Dear Jesus, I know that I'm a sinner and fall short of God's standard of perfection. I now understand that you died on the cross for all of my sin's and you alone will earn my salvation. I ask you to come into my heart. Thank you Lord for your gift of everlasting life.
If you said that prayer you can be assured that when your purpose on earth has been fulfilled you will see Jesus in all his glory, much like Charlie Kirk is experiencing right now in heaven.
On a final note, your life continues until your God calls you home. Until then, God has some exciting things for you on this journey.
More Than Just Sadness: The Ripple Effect of Unprocessed Grief
Grief is a universal human experience. It's the natural, often overwhelming, response to loss – whether that's the death of a loved one, the end of a relationship, the loss of a job, a major life transition, or even the loss of a dream. We tend to associate grief primarily with sadness, tears, and a period of withdrawal.
But what happens when grief isn't given the space, time, or tools it needs to run its course? What if it gets stuck, denied, or suppressed? The answer, often, is a cascade of "secondary conditions" that can profoundly impact our physical, mental, and emotional well-being, sometimes long after the initial loss occurred.
When Grief Goes Underground: What is "Unprocessed Grief"?
Unprocessed grief isn't about "getting over" a loss – because some losses are never truly "gotten over." Instead, it's about the healthy integration of that loss into your life. When grief is unprocessed, it can manifest as:
Avoidance: Actively trying not to think or feel about the loss.
Numbness: A persistent inability to feel emotions deeply.
Getting Stuck: Remaining in one stage of grief for an extended period, unable to move forward.
Societal Pressure: Feeling compelled to "be strong" or "move on" before you're ready.
When grief doesn't find a healthy outlet, it doesn't disappear. It simply goes underground, often emerging in unexpected and damaging ways.
The Ripple Effect: Secondary Conditions of Unprocessed Grief
The body and mind are intricately connected. What we don't process emotionally, our physical and mental health often bear the brunt of.
1. Physical Manifestations: Our Bodies Keep the Score
Persistent emotional stress from unresolved grief can wreak havoc on your physical health:
Chronic Fatigue: A pervasive sense of exhaustion, even after adequate sleep.
Compromised Immune System: Frequent colds, infections, and a general feeling of being run down.
Digestive Issues: Stomach aches, IBS, nausea, or changes in appetite.
Increased Aches & Pains: Headaches, muscle tension, back pain, or the exacerbation of existing chronic conditions.
Sleep Disturbances: Insomnia, nightmares, or restless sleep.
Heart Issues: Studies have linked intense grief, especially after spousal loss, to an increased risk of heart problems.
2. Mental & Emotional Toll: The Mind Becomes a Battlefield
The mental and emotional landscape can become turbulent without healthy grief processing:
Anxiety & Panic Attacks: A persistent sense of dread, worry, or sudden, intense episodes of fear.
Depression: Prolonged sadness, loss of interest in activities, hopelessness, and even suicidal ideation.
Irritability & Anger: Snapping at loved ones, feeling easily frustrated, or experiencing unexplained rage.
Numbness & Apathy: A feeling of detachment from life, people, and even one's own self.
Substance Abuse: Turning to alcohol, drugs, or other addictive behaviors to self-medicate or escape the pain.
Difficulty Concentrating: Brain fog, poor memory, and an inability to focus on tasks.
Trust Issues: Becoming cynical, withdrawn, or struggling to form new, healthy attachments.
Existential Crisis: Questioning life's meaning, purpose, or spiritual beliefs.
3. Relational & Social Impact: Isolation and Strain
(P)Unprocessed grief often impacts our connections with others:
Social Withdrawal: Retreating from friends, family, and activities once enjoyed.
Strained Relationships: Lashing out at loved ones, difficulty communicating needs, or pushing people away.
Codependency: Becoming overly reliant on others to fill the emotional void.(P)
Difficulty Forming New Connections: Fear of future loss can prevent opening up to new people.
Why Do We Get Stuck? Several factors contribute to unprocessed grief:
Societal Expectations: The pressure to "move on" quickly.
Lack of Support: Not having a safe space or people to talk to.
Fear of Pain: Believing it's easier to avoid the intense emotions.
Previous Trauma: Past unresolved experiences can complicate current grief.
Complicated Loss: Ambiguous losses (e.g., a missing person, a loved one with dementia), or losses involving trauma or violence.
Finding Your Way Through: Paths to Healing
Acknowledging that you might be experiencing secondary conditions due to unprocessed grief is the crucial first step. Healing is possible, and you don't have to navigate it alone.
Acknowledge Your Grief: Give yourself permission to feel what you feel, without judgment.
Talk About It: Share your feelings with a trusted friend, family member, or support group.
Seek Professional Help: A therapist specializing in grief and loss can provide tools, strategies, and a safe space to process your emotions. This is especially helpful if you're experiencing severe secondary conditions.
Practice Self-Care: Prioritize sleep, nutrition, gentle exercise, and activities that bring you comfort and peace.
Be Patient with Yourself: Grief is not linear, and healing takes time. There will be good days and bad days.
Find Meaning: Over time, some people find solace in honoring their loss through rituals, memorials, or by engaging in activities that reflect the values of what they've lost.
If you recognize any of these patterns in your own life or the life of someone you care about, please know that help is available. Unprocessed grief doesn't have to be a life sentence. By leaning into the discomfort and seeking support, you can begin the journey towards healing and reclaiming your well-being.
If you are struggling with unresolved grief or any of the secondary conditions mentioned, please reach out to a mental health professional or a grief support organization in your area. You are not alone. One organization I would recommend is Https://www.griefshare.org
You can't go back and change the beginning, but you can start where you are and change the ending. C.S. Lewis
Our emotions lie to us, and we need to counter our emotions with truth. Billy Graham
This song sung by, America, a popular group from the 70's resonates with many going through grief-that has stood the test of time even today.
Grief is a lonely experience that leaves people lost and bewildered when it happens. As though they're alone on an island with absolutely no human connection. When the funeral ends and the flowers have wilted is whenwe notice friends who drifting away and sadness becomes overwhelming. At first, I saw this as outright rejection of my suffering, but, over time I learned that my friends haven't rejected me, but merely needed to get back to their own lives.
This is for all the lonely people
Thinkin' that life has passed them by
Don't give up until you drink from the silver cup
And ride that highway in the sky.
This stanza is a reminder for us all to turn to God to help us through our sorrow.
This is for all the single people
Thinkin' that love has left them dry
Don't give up until you drink from the silver cup
You never know until you try
We grieve for all those moments that we might have missed with our loved one.
Our sadness makes us think that life has passed us by like a slow moving car on a freeway of faster moving ones. Our brains take longer to process information we once were able to do faster. Our minds become consumed by the heavy emotions as we try to find a way out of the black hole.
Often, this is a time when we hit a proverbial fork in the road.
One path leads us the Lord while the other path leads us down a destructive path of anger, unforgiveness, drugs and alcohol.
Well, I'm on my way
Yes, I'm back to stay
Well, I'm on my way back home
A person who leans on the Lord to help them conquer their pain often comes out stronger and more resiliant than they were before grief.
This is for all the lonely people
Thinkin' that life has passed them by
Don't give up until you drink from the silver cup
Never take you down or never give you up
Never know until you try
Grief is so individualize that there really isn't a set time line before you're healed, nor can you compare you're grief with someone else going through the process.
For a parent losing a child, it may take at least 10 years to fully recover. Grief isn't like a light switch you can simply turn off. This may sound daunting to those who simply want the pain to end, but I can offer some tips from my own experience tp help you on the grief journey.
1. Continue doing the same rituals you were doing before your loss. For me, this meant continuing to attend a the same weekly church service I attended before the loss. I watched some bereaved people stop going to church all together because of how it hurts sitting in the sanctuary without your loved one. By regularely going to church you allow God to use others around you to befriend you and help you heal.
2. Seek out wise counsel from a therapist that understands the effects of trauma on people. Sudden deaths can be especially grualing on people and a good therapist will walk with you to better understand the effects of trauma on your loss.
3. Schedule an appointment to get some blood workup and a physical exam with your primary care provider. Grief can have such a profound impact on the body that the chemistry falls out of alignment.
One example of this is the sometimes fatal effects of broken heart syndrome.
One well known example was the death of Carrie Fisher's mom. A short time later this star wars icon died from broken heart syndrome.
4. Practice self care such as signing up for a griefshare.org group nearest you. This is especially important because it is critical you find a support group of people who are non-judgemental and supportive of what you're going through. Another example of self care is getting a step counter and setting a goal of achieveing 5,000 to 10,000 steps.
God understands what you're going through because He also lost a son. It was the resurrection of his son that made it possible for all of us to see our loved ones again. Now that is a beautiful thought. For those looking for a griefshare group, you can locate one at Griefshare.org.
Source: Musixmatch
Songwriters: Daniel M. Peek / Catherine L. Peek
These past couple of weeks were filled with patient endurance as we helped clean out and get rid of the clutter from my wife's mothers home- a home she hasn't lived in for 3 years due to her death. Today, my wife and I attended the celebration of life service for James Parker who lost his battle with cancer. We were there because his family needed the presense of frinds who will support them through the daunting recovery process.
Over the years, I have had conversations with many about the importance of going to funeral services. Some have told me that they try to avoid those public displays of sorrow 'becauase it makes them sad. What they failed to realized is it's not about how it's going to effect them, but their presense will do more to remind the family who experienced the loss that they are loved and we are there to support them.
When Maria, our 10 year old daughter died suddenly in 2007, it was our friends who took time out of their busy day to attend our daughter's celebration of life service that made a huge difference in helping us heal.
As I look back over those years, I can attest that God tenderize me through those my loss by reminding from his word that when we grieve, we grieve with hope that Christ shed blood on the cross assures us that we will see our loved ones again, but only after our purpose is completed on earth.
To those who are grieving, I assure you that recovery will happen. It may take time, but you will come out of darkness into the beautiful sunlight. Suggestions to reach that goal include:
1) continue worshipping at the same church when you loved one was alive.
2) take care of your physical health by making a appointment for a physical ( Grief can take it's toll on the human body.)
3) Start a journal where you can write all your daily emotions on paper where you can see it on paper.
4) If grief share is available near you, attend a group. Grief share is a 13 week that will walk you through the grief precess. Https://griefshare.org
Lastly, remember that God loves you, feels your pain, will through the savior, Jesus Christ will walk with you through the pain.
Like most men, I loved what I did in my career. It gave me joy to see people rise about their barriers to become once again, successfully employed. Their succcess was partly their motivation and will to finally succeed in this life. Like most guys, work became a way to set aside the trauma when loss occurred because for one brief moment each day got to go their job to engage with the public. It was the single place where many didn't know he was hurting, much less that he loss someone who was precious to him.
What does a man do when retirement creeps up on him. How does he avoid the insufferable pain associated from his loss? How does he avoid the flashbacks and nightmares stemming to the time of his loss? He has no job to go to, no structure to his day to take his mind off of things. He thought he recovered from that loss because he learned to function at work without too much difficulty.
Here are some suggestions from a grieving dad who has been there. (1) Replace the glass of alcohol for water. Did you know that alcohol is a depressant that can actually make your life worse?
(2) Did you also know that any remaining unresolved grief can actually go into the cellular and organ level sometimes causing life threatening health issues. One medical doctor discovered this after years of research that involved interviewing children, teens and young adults. Unresolved grief is a dangerous thing to a grieving person. It can cause cancer, breathing disorders, heart and systhmic conditions.
(3) Make sure you get a healthy dose of structure and rituals in your life. We were divinely created by God in his own image. Our task is to worship God at a designated time and space each week. For me, I chose to worship my living Savior, Jesus Christ, with my wife at the same church we attended when our daughter was alive. My rationale is this gives us to model healthy grieving to those around us. It also allows us to receive a timely word of encouragment from someone in that sancturary.
(4) I encourage you to see your doctor and get a thorough check-up to make sure you stay healthy. Make sure to ask that blood workup is done just to give you peace of mind that nothing looming is happening under the skin.
(5) Join a exercise group so you can keep moving. The human body is meant to move and moving keeps those parts well lubricated.
(6) For some, you may need to join a grief group somewhere just so you can practice a little self care. I recommend griefshare.org as it is a group that goes for 14 weeks. The weekly lessons, video. and discussion will enhance your ability to function in life.
Get outside and stop and smell the roses in those retirement years becuase God loves you and continues to have a beautiful plan for your life.
