Posted on: 6th March 2025

Grief, especially the loss of a loved one, brings overwhelming sorrow. We can relate to the psalmist’s cry in Psalm 42:3: "My tears have been my food day and night, while people say to me all day long, 'Where is your God?'" Since the passing of my father and mother, this verse has echoed in my heart. Their deaths have left a void, a sadness that feels endless, like a river of tears that flows without respite. Yet, amidst this mourning, I find comfort in the lasting memories of them — memories that remind me of God’s presence, even in their absence.

A recent bloom of snowdrops reminded me of their love for them and each other. These tiny white flowers, the first to appear each spring, symbolized hope for my parents — a sign that, despite the long, harsh winter, new life and warmth would return. As they grew older, my father and mother would eagerly wait for the first snowdrops to bloom. "God is faithful," my father would say, joyfully smiling as he admired these little flowers. For them, the snowdrops weren’t just flowers; they were a reminder that after seasons of hardship, spring — a time of renewal and rebirth — would always come. Now, as I walk through life without them, I look for those snowdrops, heartened by the quiet faith they carried. Their love for these flowers wasn’t just about nature; it was about trust in God’s promises. Though they are no longer with me, the snowdrops remain, a symbol of God’s hope and faithfulness.

They would also look for the red robin in their garden, the first bird to visit after winter. The robin, vibrant and full of life, symbolized for them the presence of God, a sign that hope was near. In my garden, through the robin’s song, I can hear God’s voice — a reminder that, even in the barren seasons of life, His presence and hope is always near. Whenever I now see a robin, I remember my parents’ unwavering belief that God’s love was never far away.

Psalm 42:3 speaks to the rawness of loss: "My tears have been my food day and night." This verse captures the profound sorrow I’ve felt, but it also invites me to see beyond the tears. For my parents, the robin and the snowdrops weren’t just signs of changing seasons; they were symbols of God’s constant faithfulness. Today as I await the appearance of the robin and the snowdrops that remind me that, despite the pain of loss, there is still beauty, grace, and the promise of renewal.

Now that my parents are gone, these small signs — the snowdrops, the robin — feel even more poignant. When I see them, I’m reminded not only of their love for God’s creation but also of God’s eternal love for them and for me. And in that, I find peace. Though I mourn their absence, I trust that, like the snowdrops that will bloom again next spring and the robin that will return to the garden, God’s promises remain. His hope is alive, even in grief, a sign of life, love, and resurrection.

By Liz Harden, Lighthouse West Yorkshire