Greetings my friend. I appreciate you stopping by my blog! I figured it was past time that I catch you up on my life.
This year began in a way I never imagined I would have to endure by stepping into a new year without Steven.
There is something especially jarring about the world celebrating “new beginnings” while you are still learning how to survive the ending of the most sacred chapter of your life. The silence continues to feel heavier and the reality that he would not walk into this year with me hit me hard. It’s hard to believe that New Years was once my favorite holiday and now it has taken on different meaning.
Then came Steven’s one-year heavenly anniversary on February 3rd.
A date I dreaded.
A milestone I couldn’t avoid.
One year that felt both impossibly long and heartbreakingly short.
How can it be a year?
How can it only be a year?
Like it or not, times does march on and grief has a way of bending time. Some days feel like I’m right back in that hospital room. Other days I can almost see how far I’ve come. Both are true at the same time.
Grief has taught me over and over again that opposing emotions can co-exist.
My Word of the Year
When I chose my word for this year, I didn’t choose it lightly. I chose it prayerfully and (like Steven did everything), it was chosen intentionally.
This year isn’t a year for proving.
It isn’t a year for pretending I’m stronger than I am.
It’s a year for embodying.
For living out what I say I believe.
For breathing through the hard moments the best I can.
For admitting when my emotional capacity is maxed out.
My nervous system is still learning safety.
My heart is broken.
But I am here.
Present.
Intentional.
Becoming.
Sharing My Story Out Loud
This year also brought something unexpected and deeply meaningful: I had the honor of being a guest speaker on the Christian Fellowship Community podcast, a platform Steven was heavily involved in.
We talked about my journey through adoption, recovery, and now grief.
It’s one thing to live your story.
It’s another to speak it out loud.
There is vulnerability in naming the broken places.
There is courage in revisiting the parts that almost took you under.
And there is power in realizing that God has been by my side every step of the way.
I’ve come to realize that each season prepared me for the next, even when I didn’t know what was coming.
Writing the Memoir
Behind the scenes, I’ve been working on something that feels both terrifying and sacred: my memoir. I’ve been sharing my desire to do this with Steven for many years now. Our daughter, Katy, connected me with Gordon Publishing, and here we are!
This book will go deeper than a blog post ever could. It will hold the evolving labels that I’ve worn over the years, including the identity shift of becoming a widow and the fight to stay whole when everything in me wants to collapse.
It will also hold hope.
Not the cliché kind.
Not the rushed kind.
But the hard-earned kind.
My anticipated launch date is later this year, and even writing that feels surreal. Steven always believed there was a book in me. I know he is cheering me on!
What This Year Has Taught Me So Far
If I had to summarize this season, it would be this:
Grief does not mean I stopped living.
It means I am learning to live differently.
I have learned that:
- Strength can look like rest.
- Faith can look like questions.
- Progress can look like getting out of bed.
- Healing is not linear, and it is not loud.
There are still days my body feels stuck in fight-or-flight. MANY days.
There are still moments the absence knocks the wind out of me.
But there are also glimpses of light.
Moments of clarity.
Unexpected joy.
Quiet resilience.
And maybe that is what this year is about.
Not replacing what was lost.
Not “moving on.”
But moving forward with Steven’s love still stitched into every fiber of who I am.
Thank you to those who have walked this year with me. Who stayed. Who listened. Who didn’t try to fix what couldn’t be fixed. Your presence has been a great gift.
If you’re in your own season of grief, rebuilding, or becoming, know that you are not alone. I decided very early on that I am doing this my way and unapologetically. There is no manual for this and there is definitely no timeline. The only way is the way your grief guides you to healing.
Sometimes the bravest thing we do is simply continue.
And I intend to.
Imagine ~ Believe ~ Achieve
Life With Lisa
Life With Lisa 