In grief, we want someone to blame.

It’s human nature really.

We want to put our finger on the exact reason something happened as if we could go back and fix it.

As if finding the answer would somehow make it all better.

As if blame could fill the hole that loss leaves behind.

But it can’t.

We blame the doctors. We blame the driver. We blame the one who was supposed to be watching, the one who turned their back for just a second. We blame God. We blame ourselves. We blame whoever we can.

Because blame feels like control when everything is out of control.

It tries to explain the unexplainable. Make sense of the senseless.

But here’s what we forget in the middle of our pain

We are all one accident, one stumble, one illness, one bad choice away from this imperfect reality.

Loss brings humility. It teaches us compassion and understanding that we are all human. Bad things do happen to good people.

And sometimes there is no one to blame.

I know this better than most because blame was placed on me.

I was the driver.

I’ve carried that. For 18 years I’ve carried that.

And I won’t pretend it wasn’t crushing. The whispers. The opinions. The fingers pointed by people who weren’t there and didn’t know but had plenty to say anyway.

There’s no grief quite like grieving your child while drowning in shame.

And if you are carrying that same shame today, someone needs to hear this:

It’s not your fault. You did the best you could at the time.

These are words I needed to hear 18 years ago that were left unspoken.

But here’s what I know now that I didn’t know then

God never left. Not once. Not in any of it.

He already knows what happened. Every single detail. He doesn’t need it explained or defended.

It isn’t for us to know or control. But to trust. Trust God in the murky, ugly waters of life, to live freed and forgiven.

He carried what I could not carry myself. And slowly, so very slowly, He loosened the grip of guilt that was never meant to define me.

It was never meant to define you either.

You are allowed to put it down.

He’s got it. And He’s got you.

On the journey with you