When love keeps showing up in the hardest season
There are some things you do not fully understand until you watch someone live them.
Strength is one of those things.
I used to think strength had a certain look. Maybe steady. Possibly calm. Maybe confident. Or maybe someone who knows exactly what to do and does not fall apart under pressure.
I am learning that strength can look very different than that.
Sometimes strength looks tired.
And sometimes strength looks quiet.
Sometimes strength looks like getting up and doing the next thing when your heart is already carrying too much.
Then, there are times strength looks like loving someone through a season you would have never chosen.
As I have walked through the continued loss of my Daddy, I have also watched my mom walk through it in her own way. What I have seen in her is something I do not want to overlook.
I have seen perseverance.
Not the kind that sounds pretty in a quote. And not the kind that looks easy from the outside. But the kind that keeps moving through long days, hard moments, uncertainty, exhaustion, and grief.
The kind that says, “I am still here.”
There is something sacred about that kind of love.
It is not loud.
And it is not flashy.
It does not always have the words to explain itself.
But it shows up.
It shows up in the doing.
And it shows up in the staying.
It shows up in the decisions, the details, the watching, the waiting, and the carrying.
So often, the person carrying the most does not have time to stop and tell everyone how heavy it is.
They just keep going.
That is what makes it easy to miss.
We can see the tasks and not fully see the toll.
We can see the responsibility and not fully see the heart behind it.
We can see someone handling things and forget that handling things still costs something.
But I do not want to miss it.
I do not want to move through this season only naming what has been lost without also naming the strength I have witnessed.
Because my mom’s love for Daddy has shown me something.
Love is not only what we feel.
Love is what remains when life becomes hard.
It is what keeps showing up when the future feels uncertain.
And it is what chooses care when the body is tired.
It is what holds steady when grief is already beginning.
Honestly, it is what says, “You are not alone,” even when the person saying it may feel alone too.
That kind of love matters.
And I think sometimes we need to pause and honor the people who are still standing in the middle of the story.
Not after everything is over.
Not once the grief is neat and explainable.
Not when everyone has had time to rest and reflect.
But right in the middle.
While they are tired.
And while they are hurting.
While they are doing the best they can with what is in front of them.
So today, I want to honor the strength I saw in my mom.
The quiet kind.
And the faithful kind.
The persevering kind.
The kind that did not need attention to be real.
The kind that kept loving Daddy in the everyday moments, the difficult moments, and the moments no one else fully saw.
That kind of strength leaves a mark.
It teaches without preaching.
It speaks without needing many words.
It reminds me that devotion is not always soft and easy.
Sometimes devotion is worn out and still willing.
Sometimes devotion is grieving and still present.
Sometimes devotion is simply choosing to stay close when everything is changing.
Sometimes devotion is simply sitting in the same room of someone who continue to love 64 years later.
And that is holy.
Reflection Question
What kind of quiet strength have you witnessed in someone you love?
Action Step
Write down one specific way someone showed love through perseverance. Keep it simple and honest.
For My Own Heart to Process
What strength have I seen in Mom that I want to remember?
Geez, the strength I have seen in my mom is on a daily basis. She loved daddy until that very last sacred moment. He was never a burden. In fact, she stated “it has been a privilege to take care of you.” Her literal words “a privilege.” She meant that phrase with her whole body. Privilege…
What did she carry that others may not have fully seen?
Her sheer exhaustion. This was the perfect example of burning the candle at both ends. She was up when he was up and slept very seldom. Yet, there was never conflict and very few words said out of shortness on either of their parts no matter how badly daddy felt or how tired my Oak was.
How did her love for Daddy show up in ordinary ways?
It showed up in how she cooked for him. Her constant checking and monitoring of all the changes/food/meds. She knew him better than he knew himself. The doctors would, at times, speak to one of us kids and we would kindly direct them back to the one that knows all things about daddy.
I love how active she was watching Gunsmoke. She had seen every single episode a thousand times yet was still engaged, asked questions, and was shocked when an old familiar scene played out for the billionth time.
What has her perseverance taught me about devotion?
Never give up. Never stop. Forgive. Live in peace. Know the battle is not yours to fight. God is so much bigger and His ways are higher than our ways.
