faith unfaded

I really struggled last night. After a beautifully relaxing day at the spa, I headed to my favorite coffee shop in the resort for a late-night snack. The memories from two months ago came flooding back. Mom smelling the flowers. Us posing with mannequins. And the one that took my breath away—the spot where I videoed her comically blowing kisses to a giant Shrek statue.

Shrek wasn’t even there anymore.
Neither was my mom.

I pivoted the moment I hit the entrance to the coffee shop. I knew I was seconds from crumbling. I couldn’t get back to my room fast enough.

The elevator doors were closing as I let the tears start to fall when a man stepped in last minute. He was noticeably uncomfortable, and I was trying to decide if explaining my tears would make him feel worse. In the end, I said nothing, save for “Have a nice evening” as we reached my floor.

He didn’t bother to reply, which only added to the building emotions. In the midst of my extreme grief, I’d still practiced social etiquette and shown care to this stranger by not unduly burdening him only to be ignored. Rejected.

I felt even more alone.

I reached my room and cried for way more than my usual five-minute limit. I wanted to reach out in the family thread but the fear of silence there as well stopped me from even trying.

The setting sun outside my window reminded me that the Lord was with me. But my mom still wasn’t so I couldn’t—wouldn’t—find comfort in His presence. I just wanted her.

I went to sleep praying for a better day.

I woke up to storm clouds gathering over the Gulf. The pool deck—filled yesterday with families—was empty, the water below an almost startling blue against the gray sky.

And my first thought was how beautiful it was.

Stormy but beautiful.

It occurred to me that we often treat those words as opposites when it comes to our lives.

We think beautiful seasons are the ones when prayers are answered the way we hoped. When doors open. When relationships are good. When our families are healthy. When we’re confident about where we’re going and certain God is leading us there.

And then there are the storms when everything goes wrong. We are in pain. Doors close. We lose loved ones.

I’ve been traveling through a storm-filled valley for several weeks. But this morning, I saw the beauty in the storm.

I even went down to the coffee shop, passing the same flowers, seeing the same mannequins, and touching the same displays she had.

And I smiled.

The grief isn’t gone. Yesterday wasn’t a setback and today isn’t proof that I’ve moved forward. I’ve learned that grief doesn’t work like that. Sometimes I think I’ve turned a corner only to discover it’s actually a circle and I’m right back where I started.

But this morning, looking out at those clouds, I realized something else.

A storm doesn’t make the view less beautiful.

Maybe I’ve spent too much time believing those things can’t coexist.

I can grieve deeply and still laugh.
I can be disappointed and still be hopeful.
I can have unanswered prayers and still trust God.

There’s beauty even in the storm.