What the Holy Spirit taught me about being widowed twice

By Heidi McPherson, Op-ed contributor Wednesday, May 27, 2026

There are moments in life that change you forever. 

For me, that moment came when the doctor walked into a small hospital room and told my son and me that “they did everything they could,” and my beloved husband, Bill, had passed away.

That one sentence changed everything.

Thousands of thoughts, fears, and questions collided at once, leaving me feeling as though my life had hit a wall at one hundred miles an hour, hurling about pieces of my suddenly unrecognizable life.

My son stepped into the hallway to call my daughter and family members while I remained alone in that room, sitting in the deafening silence that follows devastating news. And in that moment, the Holy Spirit began teaching me how to grieve.

The very first words that came out of my mouth shocked even me: “I never questioned You when You were blessing us, and I will not question You in this.”

Those words did not sound like me. They were far more surrendered and gracious than I am. I knew immediately the Holy Spirit was speaking through me. What I did not know then was that He was positioning my heart to be able to walk the painful road ahead and complete the healing he would lead me to.

A nurse soon entered and handed me a small plastic bag containing Bill’s wedding ring. I sobbed uncontrollably. That ring belonged on his finger, not in a tiny zip-top bag that inadequately represented nearly 26 beautiful years together.

I remember thinking, “How will I survive?” Tomorrow? Next month? The rest of my life? Even the simplicity of my next breath felt impossible.

And again, in the unbearable grief, the Holy Spirit whispered, “Thank Me for what you had and don’t focus on what you’ve lost.”

That single thought became my lifeline. In a season when I had no idea what to do, I could do that. 

Every time grief threatened to drown me, often through a stream of tears, I intentionally thanked God. I thanked Him for a husband who loved me well, for our children, memories, ministry, and a strong marriage that many people never experience.

Something powerful happens when you choose gratitude. It does not erase sorrow, but it does change what sorrow produces. Thanksgiving was my choice when so many of my choices were taken from me in Bill’s homegoing. Most importantly, it kept me from becoming bitter and left my heart open to heal.

I still cried. I still ached. I still missed Bill with a depth of pain I cannot adequately describe.

Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians captured my feelings: “We were crushed and overwhelmed beyond our ability to endure, and we thought we would never live through it.” The passage continues with a beautiful promise that became my mantra: “But as a result, we stopped relying on ourselves and learned to rely only on God.”

The Holy Spirit was not merely comforting me. He was teaching me. Teaching me how to surrender fully, how to trust completely, and how to survive devastating loss without losing my faith, but actually growing it.

Our culture celebrates independence and self-sufficiency, but the Holy Spirit taught me something entirely different. He taught me to collapse unencumbered into the arms of Jesus. And I did exactly that. There were days I fell at His feet in a puddle of tears. Days when loneliness felt crushing and the future terrifying.

And every single time, He met me. Not with condemnation. Not with pressure to “be strong” or demands to pretend everything was okay.

He met me with His presence and His promises. Promises that He would be everything I needed. Promises that I could rely on Him always, in all ways.

Slowly and faithfully, the Holy Spirit began to restore me. He reminded me that widowhood was not my identity.  Society often portrays widows as forgotten women whose best years are behind them. But that is not what God says about His daughters.

Before I was ever a wife, I belonged to God. Before I was widowed, I belonged to Jesus. And Bill’s homegoing did not change that. Even in grief, I still had purpose. I still had hope. I still had a good future.

Two years later, God unexpectedly brought another beautiful love story into my life through a wonderful man named Archie. He loved Jesus deeply and carried joy everywhere he went. We were married a year and one day after meeting.

Then, just before our sixth wedding anniversary, Archie unexpectedly passed away too.

This second loss was harder in many ways because I knew the level of despair and the painful work it would take to rebuild my life again.

But this time, I also knew something else: the Holy Spirit would meet me there again.

And He did.

Just as before, I crawled to Jesus in shattered pieces, and He faithfully picked me up. He reminded me to praise, to trust, and that He had never abandoned me and would not abandon me now.

In that season of slow restoration, Jesus remained present and faithful.

Over time, I realized something profound: grief did not destroy me. God had actually used it to deepen my faith in and dependence on Him. He even used it to reveal His faithfulness to me in ways I would never have experienced otherwise.

Pain can either harden us or transform us. By God’s grace, it transformed me into who Jesus was calling me to be.

Today, I still have scars. Loss changes you forever. But more than anything, my life is marked by overwhelming evidence of God’s goodness, tenderness, and sustaining grace.  He truly exchanges our ashes for His beauty.

If you are grieving today, know this: you do not have to navigate loss alone. The Holy Spirit is near to the brokenhearted. He knows how to comfort, how to carry, and how to restore.

And if you allow Him, He will lovingly teach you how to grieve, too.