By Chloe Miller 
We set up the Christmas tree yesterday, and it was bittersweet as I took out each decoration. Transported back to last year, I remembered the giddy expectation that this was going to be the last time that decorating for Christmas looked like this. Next year, decorating would happen with a baby in my arms. Everything would be done at a slower pace as we hung up three stockings instead of two while keeping a watchful eye on our 6-month-old to make sure he wasn’t getting into things he shouldn’t.
Last year, there wasn’t any part of me that expected anything but those dreams to come true. I was halfway through my pregnancy at the beginning of December. I wasn’t expecting to lose our son, and for next Christmas to be a time of grief instead.
It’s true, decorating for Christmas wasn’t like it had ever been in the past. We had to figure out where our son’s memorial items should be placed amid the Christmas decorations. We shed many tears about how it wasn’t supposed to be this way as we hung a new ornament on the tree in honor of our baby since he wasn’t going to be with us for the Christmas season.
As the holidays approached, I felt my dread growing daily. Everything felt tainted by sadness and grief. Things that once brought joy were now things I wanted to pretend weren’t happening. When I couldn’t deny it any longer, I felt the need to push forward.
So that’s what I did, I pushed myself to continue as normal . . . like decorating for Christmas was magical and wasn’t breaking my heart. As I kept pushing through, my desire to keep going ran out, and I started to sob. My tears were met by the heaviness that grief offers, and it was heavier than I had felt in months. I cried about how unfair everything was, and how I wanted my son back. I was tired of waking up every single day and having to do hard and be strong in the moments when I felt at my weakest.
It’s so hard when grief robs us and leaves our reality short of our expectations. Whether our expectations are the reality we’ve always known or what was supposed to be promised. This year, Christmas wasn’t only going to look different than expected because our son was gone, but it would also be impossible for it to look like it ever had before.
Grief changes us, and the way it impacts the things we’ve always loved can cause another layer of pain to work through. When we lost our baby, I didn’t think about all the milestones that would cause grief to show up. Whether it was an anniversary, holiday, or special occasion, when the milestones came, I felt fearful. Almost as if I was back at the beginning of my grief journey. I felt so defeated, I was sick and tired of choosing to be brave and trying to muster up my strength to keep working past the next layer of hard.
When I calmed down, I was taken back to a similar broken moment from the past. I was sitting at my desk at work, and I was tired of choosing to tackle the hard. That day as I cried, I was quick to vulnerably tell God I was tired of being strong. As I opened up to the Lord about what I was feeling, He reminded me that it was okay, I didn’t have to be strong if I didn’t want to be. I could bring my weaknesses to Him and He would sustain me just like it tells us in 2 Corinthians 12:9. This verse is such a precious reminder that God’s grace is all we need and of how He can work through our weaknesses.
Friend, if grief has you weighed down and you feel tired of being strong, I want to be the first to remind you of this truth. It’s okay to not want to be strong anymore. You don’t have to be. There’s a God in Heaven who works perfectly in our weakness. All we have to do is ask for His grace to meet us right where we are. When we do, He’ll lift us up and carry us through even the heaviest moments. All you have to do is give your weakness to God.
Dear God, I thank You that You know that my heart is heavy. Help me give you all the pain and hurt I’m feeling. Thank You for carrying me in my weakest moments.
by Heather Delaney 
by Sara Ohlin 
