Holding my family together during covid-19... faith, loss, and trying to find strength

It’s strange to think we’re still in this... months of fear and waiting and trying to make sense of a world that feels turned inside out.

I’ve spent so much of this time thinking about my family. Watching them struggle through this strange, unsettling season. My children, their own children, everyone trying to hold their lives together while the world keeps shifting.

They don’t say it, but I can hear the strain in their voices. I can see it in the way they interact with their own kids... shorter tempers, exhausted smiles. My daughter told me last week that she feels like she’s failing at everything. Working from home, homeschooling, trying to keep her marriage steady when everything feels frayed.

My son worries constantly about his job. Whether he’ll still have one in a month. And even if he does, he wonders if it’s worth it... going out into the world, risking his own health, all because there’s a mortgage to pay and mouths to feed.

I keep trying to reassure them. To tell them that this won’t last forever... that God is still God, even when everything feels like it’s falling apart. But some days, my own words feel hollow.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my husband. How he would’ve handled all of this if he were still here. And I know that’s a dangerous place to let my mind wander, because there’s no answer that will bring him back.

But I keep remembering how steady he always seemed. How even in the hardest of times, he never lost his faith. We went through our own struggles... money problems, health scares, those awful, silent days when we couldn’t seem to find each other in the same room. But somehow, we always held on.

I think about the nights we spent praying together... his hand wrapped around mine, his voice low and sure. I wonder what he would say to me now, if he were here. I wonder if I’d feel as lost if I could hear him pray beside me.

But I can’t stay there for too long. Because right now, my children need me. My grandchildren need me. Even my neighbors have been leaning on me more than usual. Stopping by to talk from a distance, just to feel a little less alone.

I try to be strong for all of them. To offer words of hope, to listen when they feel like they can’t hold it together anymore. But the truth is, I’m struggling, too.

This pandemic has taken so much... jobs, routines, the freedom to gather and worship without fear. The ordinary things, like hugging my grandchildren or sitting down with a friend for coffee. Things I took for granted before all of this.

I worry about what my children are losing... what my grandchildren are missing out on. Birthdays celebrated over video calls, school lessons given through computer screens. Watching their parents worry about money, health, the future.

But I’m trying to hold on to what I know is true. To the faith that feels like it’s slipping through my fingers some days. To the God who promises He’s near, even when I can’t feel Him.

I pray a lot these days. Not always in words... sometimes it’s just tears or exhausted silence. But I think He hears me, even then.

Lord, give me the strength to keep holding on. For my children, for my grandchildren, for everyone who needs me to be steady. Help me to offer comfort even when I feel empty. And help me to trust that You are here, even when everything feels dark. Amen.

I wish I could say that I always feel strong. That I always feel certain and sure. But that’s not the truth. The truth is... some days I feel like I’m just trying to keep my head above water.

But maybe that’s what faith is. Not certainty, but persistence. Not answers, but presence.

I think about my husband’s prayers... how his faith always seemed so simple, so sure. And I try to remember that simplicity... that steadiness... when everything feels so fragile.

Maybe that’s enough.