My feet felt heavy, like someone had filled my trail shoes with rocks. I followed the path before me. Each step brought me closer.
I stumbled, but eventually regained my footing. I could make out a fork in the road just ahead. The cadence of my heartbeat increased. My feet slowed.
I found myself at the intersection of fear and faith.
Which way would I go? Which path would I choose this time?
After my husband died in 2014, I faced many fears as a young widow. I often felt overwhelmed and vulnerable. He had been my anchor, the one who helped me feel secure, and empowered me to run after my calling. Without him, I second guessed my decisions and agonized over the future. I feared financial ruin and being alone for the rest of my life.
Although my faith was strong, my fears frequently reared their ugly heads. I had to make a choice. Would I run down the path of fear or pivot toward the steeper path and run with faith?
One of my biggest fears was that I would not be able to parent my children well. At the time of his death, my girls were ages 2, 5 and 8. My husband and I were partners in parenting. We prayed for our family together. We agreed on discipline. We tag-teamed when the other person was tired or frustrated. Now I had to be the mother and father in parenting.
My fear was not an issue of striving for perfectionism. After birthing three babies, I knew I would never get the parenting thing perfect. I was more fearful that I couldn’t give my girls my best. There were days I just didn’t have my best to give. Simply breathing and surviving grief were my focus.
Some days it felt like my girls had been cheated out of time with their daddy. He wouldn’t be able to attend their high school graduations and walk them down the aisle at their weddings. I feared his absence would damage them emotionally and their grief would overcome them.
Before I married my late husband Ericlee, I heard his grandmother teach on Isaiah 54:5. She spoke passionately about how God is our husband and partner. These words carried me as a single girl, a married woman when my husband was traveling, and eventually as a new widow:
For your Maker is your husband—
the Lord Almighty is his name—
the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer;
he is called the God of all the earth.
– Isaiah 54:5
This verse and others have helped me fight my fears and replace them with truth. The more I wrapped my heart in truth, the more confidence I gained as a parent. He covered me in a blanket of grace again and again.
When I was uncertain about a decision, when I needed strength to discipline my children, when I had to attend those parent-teacher conferences or awards assemblies alone, when I couldn’t participate in an event because I didn’t have childcare, I clung to those words.
There was comfort in knowing God, my Maker, also serves as my Husband. He cares for me and partners with me. He imparts knowledge and courage to me when I call out for Him. He fills in what I lack. And He transforms even the darkest circumstances for His glory.
As a solo parent, I learned to whisper quick prayers to God when I felt inadequate:
God, help me know what to do.
God, give me strength to stand up to this two-year-old.
God, show me how to navigate grief with my girls.
Little by little, He showed up. He gifted me with wisdom and creative parenting ideas I knew I didn’t have on my own. He strengthened me to love my girls even when I was exhausted from carrying the weight of providing for our family.
Along the way, I laid down my pride and learned to enlist help. God provided a community of family and friends to come alongside me in loving my girls.
I am especially grateful for the trusted men who came to play with my girls and encourage their hearts when they were desperately missing their daddy. I am thankful for the friends who offered to watch my girls when I had late-night meetings or needed a retreat to tend my soul.
Part of the solo parenting journey has been learning to grieve together. My girls needed a safe space to cry and remember their dad. We took lots of road trips, gathered around the dinner table, and snuggled together late at night.
I had to lead them through the grief. We couldn’t run around it.
Friend, are you navigating a grief journey today? Are you at the intersection of faith and fear?
Be encouraged. The path of faith may seem steep, but it always leads us straight to His glory.
Do you struggle with parenting fears? Do you have fears due to a loss or grief? Please share in the comments!
{The original version of this essay was published at my friend Jerusha Agen’s blog. Find it here.}
*Main photo provided by Jens Lelie on Unsplash.com.
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