Category: Joy

Posted in Joy

Living the Legacy Without the Spotlight

Posted on by Tricia T

Widowhood has been in the spotlight with recent news, and the question of how a widow can honor her late husband’s legacy has been the talk in many of my widow circles.

When we lose a spouse, the world seems to tilt on its axis. The life you shared, the memories, the laughter, the little traditions… it all suddenly feels fragile, like it could slip through your fingers. In our grief, a powerful question often rises in our minds early on: How do I honor their legacy? How do I live my life without them in a way that honors them and keeps their memory alive?

I remember when Ben died trying to figure out how to live my life in a way that honored his legacy, that made our kids and others know he was always remembered. In a way that showed the world that we missed him, but we were going to keep living fully, for HIM. Eight years later, that is no different. It is still forefront on our minds, even if we aren’t as openly vocal about it.

Celebrate Others, But Don’t Compare

Some widows, like Erica Kirk, have been called to use their voices publicly—sharing their stories, raising awareness, and helping others see what widowhood is truly like. Their work is beautiful and needed. And it also opens them up to both respect and ridicule from those around them.  Are they mourning too hard, are they grieving enough, are they moving forward too fast? And sadly, while their voice is heard publicly, it’s also ridiculed very publicly.

But not all honoring is done in public. Sometimes it happens quietly; around your kitchen table, in whispered prayers, or in the simple way you continue to love and serve your in-laws and your children. Hear this: your legacy work is no less valuable to God if it’s not seen in the public eye.

A Legacy Can Be Lived Quietly

Living a legacy doesn’t require a platform or applause. It might look like:

  • Teaching your children a value your spouse cherished.
  • Keeping a tradition alive that reminds others of their kindness.
  • Offering a listening ear to another widow who feels unseen.
  • Choosing faith on the days it feels hardest.
  • Traveling the world the way that they would have wanted you to.

God Sees the Unseen

Your life, lived quietly for His glory, tells a story the world may never fully see but Heaven does. Carrying your spouse’s legacy forward—even if only a few ever notice—echoes through eternity.

Scripture reminds us: “…your giving may be in secret, then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.” (Matthew 6:4) God does not measure impact by social media shares or public recognition—He sees our love and faithfulness.

Walk in grace. Celebrate those who speak out like Erica Kirk, they are giving the world a glimpse into the strength that comes with widowhood. But don’t forget to also embrace the holiness of your own unseen faithfulness. In God’s kingdom, no act of love is too small to matter. He sees it and so do we!

Posted in Joy

When You Try to Write Your Own Story

Posted on by Tricia T

Oh, could I tell you the dangers of trying to write your own story.

It feels empowering at first—taking the pen, setting the course, deciding exactly how life should unfold. You dream, you plan, you push forward. But here’s the hard truth: you can spend years heading down a path that God never intended for you.

Sometimes it’s because you’re too afraid of the unknown. It’s safer to cling to the familiar, even if it’s not fruitful.

Other times, it’s because you’ve convinced yourself you know how the story should end—what redemption should look like, what healing should mean, and exactly how God should work in your life.

But when you insist on being the author, you limit the story to the boundaries of your own imagination. And our imagination, no matter how vivid, will never match the beauty and wisdom of God’s plans.

God Writes Better Stories

Scripture doesn’t promise that we get to control the narrative—it promises something better: that God Himself is the author. Hebrews 12:2 calls Jesus “the author and perfecter of our faith.” That means He not only begins the story, but He also knows how to bring it to completion.

When we try to take over, we’re essentially saying, “God, I think I can handle this ending better than You.” But Proverbs 16:9 tells us, “The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.”

We can make plans, but only God sees the full picture—past, present, and future.

The Danger of Self-Written Redemption

When you script your own version of redemption, you risk settling for a lesser ending. You might think reconciliation with one person, or achieving a certain goal, is the pinnacle of your healing. But God often has layers of restoration you can’t yet see—healing wounds you didn’t even know you had, redeeming not just your situation but your heart.

Joseph’s story in Genesis is a perfect example. If Joseph had written his own ending, it probably wouldn’t have included betrayal by his brothers, slavery, accusations of adultery or years in prison. But those chapters—painful as they were—led to a redemption far greater than anything he could have imagined: saving nations from famine, reconciling with his family, and glorifying God in the process (Genesis 50:20).

Trusting the Author

There is so much healing and redemption in letting God write your story. Only He knows the path you truly belong on.

When I am reminded that I could have missed out on the blessings that I have now I am humbled. I would have never chosen this road for myself, but it is good, and God has redeemed so many beautiful moments for me and for my children.

Psalm 139:16 says, “Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.”

Before you took your first breath, God already knew your story from beginning to end. And unlike us, He writes with eternal perspective, perfect justice, and unshakable love.

If you trust Him with the pen, you will see a story unfolding that is better than anything you could have scripted for yourself.

So, if you find yourself gripping the pen tightly today, maybe it’s time to lay it down. Hand it back to the Author who knows every chapter, who redeems every broken scene, and who has already written the most beautiful ending imaginable.

Praying for you as you step into an unknown future that is known by God above!

Posted in Ben, Joy

Eight Years Without You — But Still Carrying You with Us

Posted on by Tricia T

Eight years.
Ninety-six months.
Over 2,900 days and more hours than I can begin to count.

That’s how long it’s been since you left us…

Every year I wake up on this day and read the messages, reflect on the day that everything changed, and remember how we weren’t ready or prepared to say goodbye.

I wasn’t prepared to say goodbye… – Tricia Thirey

Eight years ago, I came home alone. I sat our kids down and told them their daddy was gone. I planned a funeral instead of a homecoming. And I stepped into a life I never asked for — one of solo parenting, quiet grief, and learning to live without the man I thought I would spend the rest of my life with.

The Loss That Keeps Changing

The list of things we’ve missed grows longer every year:

  • Our children’s milestones — sports events, graduations, first jobs, broken hearts — all without your hug or your advice.
  • Father/son talks that only you could have given.
  • Father/daughter dances that never happened.
  • Laughter around the dinner table that had your unique spark.

The absence is not just in the big moments — it’s in the small, ordinary days too. In the empty chair, the unshared joke, the “Dad, guess what?” that will never be directed at you.

Lessons in the Ashes

These years have been a teacher I never wanted. I’ve learned that:

  • Grief doesn’t leave; it just changes shape.
  • Sadness can sneak up on you in the middle of joy.
  • Life is unfair, but it’s still a gift.
  • Forgiveness matters more than we realize.
  • Every small moment is worth treasuring.

I’ve also learned that love doesn’t run out. Somehow, God has expanded my heart in ways I didn’t think possible. Earlier this year, I remarried. Not a replacement for you, because I love you both so uniquely — but I am grateful that God has given us a chance to embrace joy again, even with that little ache still here. And I think you would love the way Max loves us and treats our kids just like his own. He has been such a gift. God truly has allowed me to strike gold twice.

Choosing to Live

Every day, I face the same decision I’ve faced since the day you died:
Will I live fully today?

Not in spite of the pain, but with it.
Not ignoring the loss but letting it teach me to cherish and embrace what I still have.

So we keep going — loving each other, making new memories, and keeping you a part of our story.

Eight years gone but never forgotten. We share stories of your antics and fun almost every single day. You’re in the fabric of who we are, woven into every laugh, every tear, every act of courage. And I know you would be so proud of us!

We love you. We mean it.

— Trish & the kids

 

Posted in Joy, parenting

When Father’s Day Finds You in the In Between

Posted on by Tricia T

Father’s Day arrives each June like clockwork. Cards, advertisements, neckties, hats, and mugs about dads seem to be everywhere we look. But what happens when a clock stopped over seven years ago—when the children who once colored cards for their dad suddenly lost the chance to hand them over?

For those of us who still grieve what was lost, Father’s Day became something to avoid, a Hallmark holiday we pretend doesn’t exist.

That was our reality.  We spent each June honoring my dad and other great dads in our kids’ lives. And at the same time, we avoided the commercials, steered clear of church photo booths, and spent the second Sunday in June far from people celebrating something my kids had lost.

Yet this year felt different.

God has woven a new chapter: a wise and gentle “bonus dad” has stepped into our story. The kids want to celebrate with him, to shout their gratitude. They have spent weeks asking when Father’s Day is and what they can make and do to celebrate him.

And yet, I found myself unsure of how to proceed.

We’ve avoided this day for so long, and amid the happy tears, a little sadness still lingers. Sitting at the same table are their bonus dad’s children, carrying their own memories and loyalties. Joy and tenderness now share the same plate, and everyone walks softly.

So in these past few weeks, I’ve wrestled with how to honor both grief and gratitude in a blended family on Father’s Day. I asked for advice. I turned to Scripture. Here’s what I realized:

  1. God Draws Near to Broken Hearts

Grief does not have an expiration date. Psalm 34:18 says, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Our heavenly Father acknowledges loss without rushing us past it. We can still honor and remember Ben even amid thanking God for the gift of Max.

  1. Scripture Tells Us About Fathers Who Stand in as Earthly Fathers

The Bible presents God as a Father who welcomes, adopts, and accepts us into His family (Romans 8:15). In Matthew 1, we see Joseph step into the role of earthly father for Jesus, raising and protecting Him with love and courage. A bonus dad’s role isn’t second place—it reflects God’s adoptive embrace. That is something to recognize and deeply appreciate.

(Bonus fact: Did you know Max’s first name is actually Joseph? How cool is that?)

  1. We Rejoice and Weep—Sometimes in the Same Breath

Blended families carry mixed emotions. One child may be bursting with excitement to bake muffins for a bonus dad, while another feels unsure of how to proceed. Biological children may wrestle with the idea of others sharing a day that once belonged solely to their father.

“Rejoice with those who rejoice; weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15). There’s room for both. Yesterday we rejoiced—and deep down, I believe Ben is rejoicing too, watching the love being poured into his children. That thought warms my heart even as it aches. I am so deeply grateful they get to feel a father’s love again.

Blended families navigating different kinds of loss rarely look the same. Trusting God means acknowledging that we don’t need a perfect template. We place the fragile, beautiful mix of grief and gratitude in His hands.

This Father’s Day, I tread lightly.

We celebrated my amazing dad, who has shown up for me and my kids in countless ways. We remembered Ben, who prayed for and gave life to each of our children—and loved them more than anything in the world. And we celebrated Max, an incredible man who has stepped in with compassion, strength, and love.

Our family looks different now. And I’m learning that’s okay.

Mourning and dancing can intertwine, and we can rejoice as we press forward.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad.
Happy Father’s Day in heaven, Ben.
Happy Father’s Day here on earth, Max.

You are all so deeply loved and appreciated.

Posted in Joy

Loving a Widow: Honoring the Past and Building the Future

Posted on by Tricia T

It’s been a while since I shared my thoughts on this blog… for many reasons… It’s been a season of learning and growing and as I reflect on the last two years I have so much to share. I’ll start with this, two months ago I remarried, an amazing man of God who I thank God for every single day and I can say this:

Loving a widow is not for the faint of heart. It’s not a fairytale romance wrapped in easy beginnings or untangled emotions. This is a journey that requires a lot of patience and humility. It requires a willingness to walk into a life that began long before you arrived. For a man to choose a widow with three children is to choose a story already in progress—one that includes loss, deep love, grief, and resilience. 

It’s stepping into memories that don’t belong to you but still matter deeply to the person you love.

It’s hard. And I believe it’s holy.

As a woman who has walked the road of grief and carries both the weight of what was and the hope of what could be, I can say that a man who dares to love a widow must be brave. Brave enough to sit with pain he didn’t cause. Secure enough to not be threatened by a name still spoken with affection. Strong enough to step into fatherhood not from the start, but from the middle.

He must be a man who embodies the truth of 1 Corinthians 13—love that is patient and kind, not envious or boastful. Love that “does not dishonor others,” including the memory of a man who once held the space he now occupies. That’s a hard calling, but it’s a sacred one.

A man who can love in that way—who chooses to see beauty in brokenness and promise in second chances—is rare and worth holding onto with both hands. He is evidence that God can restore what was lost, and that love can rise from the ashes, not to replace the past, but to build upon it.

In Isaiah 43:19, God says, “See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?” That “new thing” doesn’t erase what came before—it grows from it. In loving a widow and her children, a man becomes part of that redemptive work. He steps into the story not as a replacement, but as a continuation of God’s grace and provision.

Psalm 68:5 reminds us that God is “a father to the fatherless and a defender of widows.” A man willing to live that out—to love children who aren’t biologically his, and to care for a woman who has known the depths of grief—is walking in the very heart of God.

This is not easy. It is never simple. But it’s sacred.

To the man who takes on this calling: thank you. Thank you for seeing value in a woman who has walked through the fire. Thank you for embracing children who carry another man’s name and legacy. Thank you for choosing love that costs something.

And to the woman—like me—who is blessed to be loved in such a way: hold him tight. Love him well. Honor both the past you knew and the future you are building together. For in this unique and often challenging love story, God is writing something beautiful, redemptive, and deeply good.

“Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails.” – 1 Corinthians 13:7-8

May that be the kind of love we give, receive, and fiercely protect.

Two months ago, I was blessed enough to marry that kind of man. The one who opened his heart to me, my kids, and to Ben’s family who we still fiercely love. Thank you, dear Max, for being willing to become like a father to the fatherless, while still allowing space for their beloved father. And for showing them the way a father loves through the way you love and care for your own children. And thank you for sending me cheesecake on Ben and my anniversary to celebrate the love that came before you. You will never know how much your embracing all of us means. You truly have been so much more than we could have asked for or imagined.

I can imagine that loving someone who has been divorced or a single mom who has never married would carry some of the same feelings and emotions, but that’s not my story and I can’t speak to it. I can speak to this though, loving a widow and her kids is holy work and God will honor it! 😊

Photo Credit: SaraGrace Photography