Dreaming Again After Loss

A year ago, my husband and I were preparing for the gender reveal of our second baby. Today, when people ask how many children we have, our smiles are often tight as we say, “One.”

There are events that completely change the course of our lives and redefine what is possible—the death of a spouse, the loss of a child, the permanent loss of cognitive function or mobility. Something happens, and there is no going back to what was.

After moments like this, it often feels like there is no going forward either.

We can find ourselves wandering, seemingly stuck as the world rushes on in a blur around us. While disorienting, these doldrums are not purposeless suffering— they are necessary for future joy after loss.

To dream again after loss requires that we accept the loss. We can’t receive something new while we cling to what was or what we hoped would be. We have to grieve first.

Grief is the gap between what we hoped would happen and what did happen. Many counselors consider the first two years after a loss “early grief.” Is this the time to dream? Maybe. Maybe not. Grief is a process unique for all of us. Thankfully, God offers his Holy Spirit to go with us through these processes.

Maybe, eventually, you revisit an old dream in a new way—the marathoner who now competes from his wheelchair. Maybe you begin to explore things you wouldn’t have before—the wife who goes on to care for Caregivers after her husband’s death.

We change in different ways along with our circumstances, but one thing remains common to us all: dreaming again after loss requires both grief and courage.

For those who have failed many times before, to hope and try again can be scary. They know what failure feels like. For those who have loved and lost, even the thought of bonding and connecting again requires great courage. They know what is at stake.

To the men and women of great courage, willing to hope again, I write this for you. For those in Christ, there is great joy ahead.

Often, our hopes and dreams change just as much as we do after great loss. Today, my dreams are different than they once were. While I still have goals and desires, I am deeply aware that this life is fleeting and that this world is not my home.

British missionary and author Charles Studd captures this truth in a poem:

“Only one life, ’twill soon be past,

Only what’s done for Christ will last.”

Today, my dreams are more surrendered to the King and His kingdom than they were before. They also carry a thread of sorrow that I feel alongside the joy. To embrace something new means that what was is gone.

And still, I do dream. I am made in the image of a Creator God. It is my nature to wonder, to hope, to connect, to plan. I know that the things I dream of will never satisfy my heart more than Jesus does. I know the risk of future pain is worth it.

“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” —Romans 8:18, ESV

While I don’t know what life will look like on the other side of the mountain you face, I do know that inviting God into the heartache is a powerful thing. Trust Him to guide you through broken dreams, to satisfy the longings of your heart, and to create something new—something beyond what you can imagine now. He still has plans for your life.

Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly than all we ask or think, let us place our hopes and dreams. May we be transformed by our losses and made more into the image of our King.

For our joy and His glory.