A Place For Us

Ask me where my wife is right now. I’ll get it right, down to the couch cushion. Ask about my daughter Kayla, and I’ll get that right too. Her drive to work. Her Tuesday. I don’t have to think about it. I just know. But when Shayna passed, when I asked myself “Where is she?”, my brain glitched. It returned a “that does not compute.” Researcher Mary-Frances O’Connor’s describes it this way: we buil...

The Sheep Detectives. I almost didn’t see it. The trailer played in the theater one afternoon before whatever I’d actually come to watch, and I remember thinking it looked silly. A flock of CGI sheep solving a murder. Hugh Jackman, of all people, playing a shepherd. I filed it under “not for me” and forgot about it. Then my friend Susanne Wilson told me she’d seen it. She said it was really about...

There’s a door you’re afraid to open, and even more afraid will come bursting open. You know the door I mean. It’s the one at the top of the basement stairs. You crack it open, look down into the dark, and shut it fast. Because something down there is rattling, and you’ve learned the hard way that if you go down, it pulls you under. So you keep the door closed. You stay up here in the light, where...

I had panic attacks as a child because of God. Not because of death, or darkness, or the usual things that frighten kids. Well, yes, those things, but not because I feared being alone in the dark. I feared being there with hod. The god I was taught was watching, always watching, and I was never quite good enough. He had created me to be born “in sin”. I was never quite safe. I walked around in a s...

I spent forty years certain I would die young. I was terrified. I’m sixty-five today. And the strangest thing happened on the way here: the fear didn’t get worse as the end got closer. It disappeared. When I was young, that fear was intense. I honestly thought I wouldn’t make it past twenty-five. The terror followed me into my thirties and forties. I expected to die before I really lived. Then som...

I have spent most of my life afraid of making the wrong decision. Not in a paralyzing way — I functioned, I decided, I moved forward. But there was always a low hum of anxiety underneath it. What if I missed something? What if more research would have changed the answer? What if the other choice was better? It took me decades to figure out what was actually going on. And once I did, something shif...

I spent yesterday watching two women fight the same battle — and neither one knew it. One was my client, sitting across from me in the morning, wearing her daughter’s engineering school sweatshirt. The other was a stranger at a John Edward show that night, who stood up to ask a question about skeptics — and then admitted that the “skeptic” was her. Same wound. Same brain doing the same thing. Both...

I grew up being told Jesus could come back at any moment. Not someday. Not eventually. Any. Moment. As a kid, that hung over everything. Plan for the future? Why? Build something? For what? Some people I knew didn’t go to college because of it. Didn’t save for retirement. Didn’t make long-term plans. Why plant seeds in soil you’d never harvest? It took me until my 40s to learn the uncomfortable tr...

The morning after Shayna passed, I lay in my bed and thought about disappearing. Not because I wanted to die. Well, not exactly. But because I couldn’t bear the thought of what time might do to her. I remember it as if it were yesterday. I was terrified that if I kept living, she would fade. That grief would do what grief supposedly does: soften at the edges, blur, retreat. That the sharpness of h...

I posted something on Facebook a few days ago that really hit a nerve. Most of my posts go largely unnoticed. This one got 2,200 reactions. Nearly 600 shares. A post about Netanyahu, Trump, and why criticizing Israel’s government is not the same as hating Jewish people. Why criticizing our government isn’t anti-American. And then the responses came. My Jewish friends pushed back. They were concern...

My friend Eileen just lost her spouse. When I asked how she was doing, she said something that hit home for me. “All days are bad. Some are just not as bad as the others.” That’s early grief in one sentence. You don’t dare hope for a good day. A good day isn’t even on the radar. You just quietly hope the next one is a little less crushing than the one you’re in right now. If that’s where you are,...

A few weeks ago, I wrote something I don’t usually write. I asked for help. I told you I was pushing toward 100 paid subscribers — the number Substack uses to award Bestseller status. I told you why it mattered, not just for the badge, but for the visibility it brings to this work. You showed up. Some of you upgraded. Some of you shared the post. And we moved the needle. This is a public episode....

Someone asked me a question after a recent talk, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. “What if we come here just to experience the uncontrollable?” Not to complete a mission. Not to fulfill a contract. Not to check off some cosmic to-do list. Certainly not to follow a pre-determined path. Just to feel the weight of something we couldn’t predict, plan, or prevent. That would be the re...

I used to think “passed away” was just a euphemism. A way to avoid the hard truth. I thought, “Why do they say passed away, transitioned, or went home?” Just be plain. “He died." Don’t sugarcoat it.” My first grief counselor told me, “When you can say ‘died instead of something like passed away,’ you’re on the road to healing.” But the more I learned, the more I realized we “plain speak people” ha...

I hate him. I can and should hate this malevolence. All decent, loving, compassionate people should. Every person claiming to care about what Jesus cared about should hate it. Good people should unapologetically hate atrocities against humanity. Christians should be fighting it instead of cultivating it. * John Pavlovitz I hear it a lot lately. A Christian I follow and greatly admire just posted a...

TL;DR Grief ambushes you at random—at the grocery store, in the car, at work. Emotional regulation isn’t about controlling your feelings or forcing positivity. It’s about intentionally moving through them. I use a 6-mile walk with three playlist phases: * Processing grief with sad/angry music (Evanescence, Linkin Park) * Transitioning with songs that hold both pain and hope (JEM, “The Climb”) * Ri...

“I’m sorry,” she said, reaching for the tissue box. “I didn’t mean to cry.” I hear this in almost every session. Clients apologizing for their tears. As if grief should be neat and dry. As if showing emotion is something to be embarrassed about. But here’s what I always tell them: Please don’t apologize. This is exactly what’s supposed to happen. When I see tears in a session, I don’t see weakness...

This morning, Tampa, Florida was colder than Juneau, Alaska. Let that sink in. The Sunshine State shivered at 27°F while the Alaskan capital sat at a balmy 33°F. Polar vortexes buckling. Weather patterns flipping upside down. And honestly? The weather is the least of it. Our leaders are being exposed as predators. Not just ripping us off economically. They’re actual sexual predators. The economy f...

TL;DR I’m 51/100 of the way to Substack Bestseller status. I’m offering limited-time discount tiers ($2, $4, or $6/month for your first year) until I hit 100 paid subscribers—then they close forever. Only 49 spots left. This is my full-time work, and paid subscriptions help sustain the mission: creating space for honest wrestling with faith, questions, doubt, and hope. Scroll down to see the disco...

I don’t know how to do this. You were the first to see me in the morning and the last at night. My days began and ended because you were there to hold them. When I had a good day, you made me tell it again, so we could live it twice. When I had a bad one, you listened while I unloaded everything, never trying to fix the weight of it. Just being with me. This is a public episode. If you'd like to d...

I was so excited about coming to Earth. I had it all planned out. The people I would love. The life I thought I was going to live. I couldn’t wait. I heard Earth was this great adventure. And just before I left, as I was turning toward the door,someone gently pulled me aside. Not urgently. Not dramatically. Just enough to make me stop. And they said: One last thing. Before you go, there are a few...

I’m a solar-driven person. All year long, we’re told that after December 22nd, “the light returns.” It sounds dramatic. Reassuring. Almost instant. But that’s not really how it works. The winter solstice isn’t the sudden return of light — it’s simply the end of the descent into darkness . The turnaround is real, but it’s subtle. At first, the change is measured in seconds , not minutes. Sunrise st...

Something is happening right now that feels different. It’s not just the headlines. It’s not just politics. It’s not even just fear or anger. It’s the feeling of being constantly provoked . This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit grief2growth.substack.com/subscribe

I didn’t expect to encounter an old fear when I started watching Pluribus . I thought I was just watching a piece of science fiction. Instead, I found myself staring directly at a fear I’ve been circling for years—one that has changed shape many times over my life. It’s the fear(s) of death. It’s not a single fear, but a progression: fear of punishment. Then, fear of annihilation— nothingness. Tha...

Fresh grief doesn’t need fixing. It needs room to breathe. There is a moment—often right after the casseroles stop coming—when people start reaching for words they hope will help. Platitudes arrive dressed as comfort. God needed another angel. You’re young—you can have more children. You’re young—you can find someone else. These phrases may be well-intended, but in fresh grief they land like stone...