Morning Reflections ☕ 📖
This morning, I sat with my coffee , hands wrapped around the warmth like it could steady me , and opened a book searching for something to quiet the noise inside me. That’s when I read this:
“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.”
— C.S. Lewis
And it pierced right through me.
Because it’s true , grief feels like fear. It’s that hollow ache in your stomach, that trembling in your soul when you realize the world kept spinning without the person you loved. It’s waking up to the same silence that used to be filled with laughter. It’s the way you brace yourself for the next wave, never knowing when it will hit.
My faith is still here , cracked, trembling, but here. I hold onto it with shaking hands because it’s all that keeps me from drowning. I whisper prayers through the tears, trusting that somehow God can make beauty out of this ache, even if I can’t see it yet.
Some mornings, like this one, I just sit with my coffee and let myself feel it all l, the pain, the fear, the love that still burns even after goodbye. And in that quiet, I remind myself that grief is the echo of love , and maybe that’s where faith still lives, even in the dark.
“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.”
— C.S. Lewis
And it pierced right through me.
Because it’s true , grief feels like fear. It’s that hollow ache in your stomach, that trembling in your soul when you realize the world kept spinning without the person you loved. It’s waking up to the same silence that used to be filled with laughter. It’s the way you brace yourself for the next wave, never knowing when it will hit.
My faith is still here , cracked, trembling, but here. I hold onto it with shaking hands because it’s all that keeps me from drowning. I whisper prayers through the tears, trusting that somehow God can make beauty out of this ache, even if I can’t see it yet.
Some mornings, like this one, I just sit with my coffee and let myself feel it all l, the pain, the fear, the love that still burns even after goodbye. And in that quiet, I remind myself that grief is the echo of love , and maybe that’s where faith still lives, even in the dark.
22-25, F
