“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; He rescues those whose spirits are crushed .” — Psalm 34:18 (NLT)
When You Have to Step Away
The past few weeks have been heavy.
My grandmother — who many in my family lovingly called Fannie (maybe because it rhymes with Granny) — went home to be with Jesus on March 17th. And just like that, the world got a little quieter… and a lot less familiar.
I stepped away from writing to be with my family, to grieve, to plan, and to simply sit with the reality that someone I have loved my whole life is no longer here. There are no words big enough for that kind of loss. So for a few weeks, I chose presence over productivity.
We held her funeral in Baltimore, then made the journey to South Carolina, to lay her to rest — her wishes, her roots, her final homecoming.
A full tribute to my grandmother is coming soon. She deserves her own post — her own moment. For now, I just needed you to know why I was gone.
The Journey There and Back
My son helped me drive the family from Baltimore down to South Carolina, and I am so grateful he did. But work obligations called him back ahead of us, so he returned home by train a few days before we did. That left me responsible for getting my Mom and my oldest brother home safely on the return trip.
My Mom is 77, and I didn’t want to ask her to help drive unless I absolutely needed a break. My oldest brother is autistic and not able to drive. So the wheel — and the responsibility — was mine.
I didn’t sleep well the night before the drive back. But I can tell you that both trips, there and back, were good. Smooth. Covered. And I do not take that lightly — thank the Lord for His divine protection over every mile.
I was absolutely exhausted when I returned to Maryland. It took two full days just to come down from that exhaustion and get back to what I now recognize as my baseline — my regular, everyday tired.
When a close friend checked in and asked how I was feeling, I told her honestly: I’m no longer exhausted. Just my normal tired.
I said it that way because it was the truth.
And that truth made me sad.
Grace After the Funeral
After my grandmother’s funeral, back at my family’s home, my cousin — who is more like an uncle to me — approached me with something he’d been carrying.
He was hurt that I didn’t attend his wife’s funeral a few months prior. He felt I should have been there.
And without hesitation, I looked at him and said, You’re right. I’m sorry.
His feelings mattered more to me than my explanation. He was still grieving, and that was not the moment for my defense.
What I didn’t say was that I had stayed behind to look after Fannie — to make sure she wasn’t alone, to give my mother peace of mind while she traveled to pay her respects. Fannie herself had wanted me to go. I told her I didn’t want to leave her. My mind was made up.
And if I had to do it all over again, I would make the same choice without hesitation.
What I’ve had to accept is that my cousin wasn’t able to extend to me the same grace I gave him. And that’s understandable.
Grace isn’t always returned.
But it’s always worth giving.
Still in It
Coming home meant more than unpacking a suitcase. These past few weeks held grief, responsibility, an unexpected emotional moment, and the kind of tired that settles deep in your bones. And I came home to the sad, quiet, sobering realization that not only am I still in burnout recovery, but that there is so much more to it than I originally thought.
Burnout has a way of outlasting your expectations, and that has been one of the harder lessons of this season.
But healing — real healing — doesn’t follow the timeline we write for it. It’s active and layered. It’s not just sleep and stillness. There’s emotional work, mental work, spiritual work, physical work — and none of it moves in a straight line.
So, as I mentioned in a recent blog, I’m giving myself grace, leaning into faith, and showing up anyway. Even when showing up just means writing this post.
(More on my ongoing burnout journey next week.)
He Is Right There
Psalm 145:18 has been a quiet anchor for me during this season.
When I feel overwhelmed, angry, sad, or scared — the moment I call Jesus’ name, I am reminded immediately that I am never without Him. He is right there.
He was there even in the moments when I wasn’t focused on Him. His faithfulness doesn’t depend on my awareness of it.
And that kind of faithfulness — the kind that doesn’t waver, doesn’t withdraw, doesn’t wait to be noticed — is one of the greatest gifts of having a relationship with the Lord.
Stepping Back In
So here I am. A little tender, still processing…but present.
And if you’re in a heavy season too — grieving something, waiting on something, tired in ways you can’t quite explain — Psalm 34:18 is for both of us today.
He is close. Even now.
Life is a faith journey. Walk boldly — even when the road has been long, and the grief is still fresh.💜
Be brave enough to show up, even when you’re tender.💜
Be faithful enough to trust that He is close to the brokenhearted — because He said so, and He means it.💜
Be kind enough to extend grace freely — even when it isn’t returned.💜
I’m still standing because God is holding me up.
And sis, He’s got you, too.💜
— Tami Zanele
