
Why I Call Widowhood a Sacred Assignment
A WidowRISE Reflection
They told me grief would be hard. That life would change. But no one told me widowhood would feel invisible.
After Blaine passed, I found myself in a world that kept spinning, while mine had stopped. People meant well—but some backed away, unsure of what to say. Others offered platitudes too shallow to hold the depth of my loss. And the Church? Sometimes, even there, I felt more like a project than a person.
That’s when God whispered something unexpected to my broken heart:
“Widowhood is not your identity. But it is your assignment.”
I’ll never forget the moment it hit me: Widow is a word that describes my loss—but it doesn’t define my worth.
Yes, I lost my husband. But I did not lose my voice, my purpose, or my future.
Widowhood is a reality I didn’t choose, didn’t want, and still don’t like. But it’s also a calling I now carry. Not because I’m strong, but because I’m still here. Still breathing. Still becoming.
Scripture is filled with God’s fierce love for widows.
He defends them. Honors them. Entrusts communities with their care.
And over time, I began to realize—this assignment of widowhood isn’t a punishment. It’s a place of profound spiritual potential.
In this sacred space of sorrow, I’ve found:
– A deeper dependence on God
– A richer understanding of legacy
– A surprising strength I didn’t know I had
– A burden to speak on behalf of others who feel unseen
Widowhood didn’t just break my heart. It broke it open.
Let’s be honest: there are a thousand ministries for moms, wives, entrepreneurs, leaders. But few spaces that say to widows:
“You still matter.”
“You’re not done.”
“You carry wisdom the world desperately needs.”
That’s why I created WidowRISE—not just for me, but for her. The woman whose life changed in a moment. The one whose grief is deep, but whose courage is deeper. The one still figuring out who she is, now that the “we” is gone.
She is not invisible.
She is rising.
Every day I ask: How can I steward this sacred assignment?
Some days, I share my story.
Some days, I simply survive.
Some days, I speak up for the widow who’s still too shattered to use her voice.
All of it counts. All of it is sacred.
This isn’t the chapter I wanted.
But it’s the one I’m called to write.
And by God’s grace, I’ll write it well
Reflection Prompt:
• Have you ever thought of your hardest season as a sacred assignment?
• What if your grief isn’t the end of your story—but the ground where something beautiful can still grow?