06/29/2026
Wednesday is July 1st. And honestly, I am growing more and more excited by the day. My JubileeSistars and I are heading to Ghana in less than 30 days. WOW. Now I’ve been to the continent. Several times. But only in the southern regions. South Africa, Zimbabwe (several times), Namibia, Zambia. I keep saying Botswana, but someone reminded me that we did NOT go there. But our guide was just telling us how close it was.
But haven't these first 6th months of 2026 been a lot? A. LOT.
For some, it has been a season of joy and celebration.
For many others, it has been a season of heaviness, and disappointment, and frustration, and even fear.
For many of us, it has been a bit of everything.
Some of us are grieving deeply personal losses. The death of someone we love. A relationship that ended. A difficult diagnosis. A job. A dream that quietly unraveled.
Some of us are carrying the grief of our communities. Neighborhood violence. Churches navigating change. Schools mourning students. Families forever altered by gun violence. Cities learning another name, another memorial, another candlelight vigil.
And some of us are carrying grief created or intensified by systems far larger than ourselves. We have witnessed families mourning in Gaza. Communities looking for people in the aftermath of the earthquake in Venezuela. Ongoing violence in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Wars, displacement, racism, poverty, political conflict, and policies that continue to shape who suffers, who is protected, and whose grief is acknowledged.
Grief is not only personal.
It is also communal.
It is also systemic.
And sometimes we are carrying all three at once.
As you look toward the second half of the year, I hope you'll pause long enough to ask yourself:
What grief in my life needs to be named? Witnessed?
Perhaps this is the moment to name it.
Perhaps this is the moment to honor it.
Perhaps this is the moment to stop pretending you are "fine."
I think about grief every single day. I think about more than grief or beyond grief. But I do think about grief every day.
I think about you and your grief every day. I do.
If you feel comfortable, share a name, a loss, a hope, or a concern in the comments.
On Tuesday, I will light a candle and call those names aloud. I will hold your concerns in prayer and in remembrance.
May none of us have to carry our grief alone.