Standing at the edge, wind at your back, ready to leap — even on a week that asked more of us than most.
Good morning, beautiful souls. ☀️ It's Friday, and we made it to the edge — though this one took a little more out of me than usual. This week held an anniversary. My husband passed in 2008, and every year around this time, the grief finds its way back to the surface no matter how far down I thought I'd buried it. I kept thinking about New Orleans this week — how they do funerals there. The parade walks the body to the cemetery to slow, somber music, everyone grieving out loud together. But the walk back? That's when the horns switch and the whole street turns into a celebration. Same day. Same people. Both things true at once. That's where I've been standing.
🕯️ The Candles Are Lit
Just two candles this morning, each holding its own half of the week:
📖 The Word
"And she coming in that instant gave thanks likewise unto the Lord, and spake of him to all them that looked for redemption in Jerusalem."
Luke 2:38 — KJV
This grounding verse is about Anna — and honestly, nobody talks about her enough. Simeon gets remembered, but Anna had more to say than he did. She was widowed young, lost her husband after only seven years of marriage, and stayed at the temple day and night for decades after — fasting, praying, showing up in her grief again and again. And then she met a baby named Jesus, and something in her broke open into joy. She didn't stay quiet about it either. She left the temple and went through Jerusalem telling everyone the Messiah had finally come. A woman who spent most of her life inside a loss became the one spreading the good news. That's the whole week, right there, in one verse.
Note: I first gathered this from The Living Bible, a thought-for-thought paraphrase, so I cross-checked it against the KJV before writing it here. The wording differs slightly, but the meaning holds — Anna gave thanks and spoke of Him to everyone waiting for redemption.
🃏 The Cards
I pulled three cards this morning to ground myself before writing this — every single one came up reversed.
This one looked backward instead of forward, which felt exactly right for a week holding an anniversary. Upright, the Ace of Pentacles is a fresh gift, solid ground under new feet. Reversed, it's a seed that got interrupted before it had the chance to take root. That's what an anniversary of loss does — it reaches into the middle of an ordinary week and reminds you a beginning once got cut short. The love didn't get to keep growing the way it should have. This card just says that out loud instead of asking me to skip past it.
Upright, the Four of Pentacles is the tight fist, holding on for dear life. Reversed, the fingers start to loosen. That's exactly where I've been standing this week — letting the grip on the grief ease up just enough to let something else in alongside it. Not letting go of him. Never that. Letting go of the idea that I have to hold this sorrow the same tight way every single year. My friends reached back out on their own this week. Readers I've never met sent messages. The hand opened a little, and more came in than went out.
And here's the one that made me think of New Orleans again. Upright, the Three of Swords is the heartbreak — the sword straight through it. Reversed is the release, the moment further down the road when the horns switch from that slow mourning hymn to something with a beat you can dance to. Same grief, same street, same day, just further along it, where the weight starts to lift a little and the music changes underneath you. Not healed all the way. Just far enough down the road to hear the upbeat part starting.
This wasn't an easy week to sit with, but it was an honest one. I'm dog-sitting tonight and doing my meal prep for the week ahead, and honestly — the grounding matters more on weeks like this one, not less. There's something steadying about ordinary tasks sitting right next to the heavy stuff.
What meant the most, though, was realizing how many people are in my corner without me even asking. Friends who reached out just to check on me. Readers following along with what I write here closely enough that it comes back around in a session. That's not nothing. That's God putting people in my path that I don't even know are His hands until they show up right when I need them.
The candles are burning, black and gold side by side, and the Word reminds us: even grief gets to end in good news.
🕯️ Rest. Restore. Rise. 🕯️