Change has a way of exposing what we’re rooted in.
Some changes arrive with excitement and anticipation. Others arrive carrying grief, disappointment, and questions we never expected to ask. Sometimes they bring all of those things at once.
This season has been one of those seasons for me.
My son and his family are moving away. While I am happy for the opportunities that may be ahead of them, I would be lying if I said this transition hasn’t been deeply painful.
For twelve years, I have been actively involved in the lives of my grandchildren. Weekly routines, school pickups, sports events, sleepovers, birthday celebrations, ordinary days, and extraordinary moments have woven themselves into the fabric of our family story. Their lives have become part of my daily rhythm, and mine part of theirs.
Now everything is changing.
The reality of distance is settling in. The familiar patterns that once anchored our family life are shifting. The opportunities for spontaneous hugs, conversations, and shared experiences will become fewer. That loss is real.
What has been equally difficult is watching the grief of my grandchildren. They are not simply changing addresses; they are saying goodbye to a life they have known and loved. They are leaving behind friends, familiar places, routines, and the comfort of having both sets of grandparents nearby.
As a grandmother, there is a unique ache in watching children you love wrestle with sadness you cannot fix. I have listened to their questions, heard their concerns, and seen the uncertainty in their hearts. Their grief has become part of my grief. While I trust they will build a beautiful life in this new place, it is still painful to watch them navigate the loss of what has been familiar and safe.
Even though I sensed this change might come long before it was ever discussed, knowing it was possible and living it are two very different things. No amount of anticipation could fully prepare my heart for the reality of saying goodbye to the everyday moments that have meant so much to me.
But this season is about more than a move.
It’s also about navigating the complicated dynamics that can come with adult children making their own choices. As parents, we spend years guiding, teaching, protecting, and investing. Then one day we discover that loving adult children often means respecting decisions we may not fully understand or agree with.
That can be hard.
There have also been moments that have required new boundaries. New realizations. Honest acknowledgments of broken trust in some relationships. Situations that have challenged expectations and forced me to reevaluate how I show up moving forward.
When enough of these things tumble together, it’s easy to become untethered.
Grief whispers.
Disappointment speaks.
Fear predicts.
Bitterness tempts.
And that’s exactly when I need to remain REAL.
Rooted
When circumstances shake, roots matter.
My roots cannot be in proximity to family, predictable relationships, or even the roles I cherish most. They must be planted deeply in Jesus.
Children grow up.
Families relocate.
Relationships change.
But Christ remains.
When everything around me feels uncertain, I return to the unchanging truth of who God is and who He says I am.
Empowered
I do not have the strength to navigate every emotional wave on my own.
The Holy Spirit empowers me to love when my heart is hurting, to forgive when disappointment lingers, and to move forward when I would rather stay stuck in what was.
Empowerment doesn’t mean pretending everything is fine.
It means trusting that God will provide what I need for today.
Authentic
Being authentic means telling the truth.
The truth is that I am sad.
The truth is that I miss what has been.
The truth is that some conversations have been painful and some realizations have been difficult.
One thing I know for sure: I will not deny my feelings or minimize the reality of what this season is like for me. Grief is not a lack of faith, and honesty is not selfishness. It is not my responsibility to make this transition easier by pretending it doesn’t hurt. I can wholeheartedly support and love my family while also acknowledging the sadness, loss, and adjustment I am experiencing.
Both can be true at the same time.
Authenticity allows me to acknowledge my grief without letting grief define me. It gives me permission to bring my honest emotions to God instead of hiding behind a smile and pretending I am unaffected.
God has never asked us to be fake. He invites us to be honest.
As I walk through this season, I am learning to give myself permission to feel what I feel without guilt or apology. There is room for both gratitude and grief, hope and heartache. While I may not know exactly what the future holds, I trust that God will meet me in the midst of every change, carrying me through the difficult moments and helping me embrace the new ones when the time comes.
Loved
Perhaps this is the truth I need most right now.
When relationships shift, expectations fail, or trust is wounded, it is easy to wonder where we belong.
But my identity has never rested in being a mother, grandmother, leader, speaker, or friend.
Before any of those things, I am God’s beloved daughter.
His love is not threatened by change.
His affection does not diminish when people disappoint me.
His presence remains when familiar comforts disappear.
I am loved.
Fully.
Completely.
Unconditionally.
And so are you.
Moving Forward
I don’t have every answer for this season.
I am still learning. Still grieving. Still adjusting.
But I know this:
Change will come.
People will make choices.
Relationships will evolve.
Boundaries will be necessary.
Trust may need rebuilding.
And through it all, our greatest need remains the same—to stay REAL in Jesus.
Rooted in His truth.
Empowered by His Spirit.
Authentic before Him.
Loved beyond measure.
Sometimes the bravest thing we can do during seasons of change is simply hold tightly to Jesus and keep taking the next faithful step.
That’s what I’m doing.
One day at a time.
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