We all long for security—to know that we will be taken care of emotionally, relationally, and financially. But after loss, that longing can feel like desperation. The temptation to seek assurance, to grasp for certainty, becomes overwhelming. We look ahead and see only emptiness, a shadowed road stretching endlessly without the ones we love. When I lost Julian, I did not want to look to the future because all I saw was his absence. How could I step forward into a world where he no longer walked beside me? C.S. Lewis describes grief as feeling like fear:

"No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear."

I understand why. It is terrifying to imagine the rest of our lives without the people we love most. The weight of that absence looms over us, making the future feel uncertain and unbearable. Lewis also captured the unrelenting nature of grief when he wrote:

"I not only live each endless day in grief, but live each day thinking about living each day in grief."

This is the weight of sorrow—its presence is not fleeting, but persistent. Yet even in this, God meets us where we are. He does not promise tomorrow's graces today. His provision is daily bread, not a storehouse of future strength. Spurgeon’s words reflect this truth beautifully:

"Jehoiachin was not sent away from the king’s palace with a store to last him for months, but his provision was given him as a daily pension... A daily portion is all that a man really wants. We do not need tomorrow’s supplies; that day has not yet dawned, and its wants are as yet unborn" (Spurgeon, Morning and Evening)

There is a mercy in God’s provision that we often overlook. We want certainty, yet He calls us to trust. We want to know the path ahead, yet He gives us just enough light for the next step. We worry about how we will bear tomorrow’s sorrows, but He asks us only to rest in today’s grace. He gives us our daily bread—not all at once, but moment by moment, day by day.

It is not easy to trust when grief looms large, when the future seems dark and uncertain. But God’s faithfulness has not wavered. Just as He provided manna in the wilderness, just as the king sustained Jehoiachin with a continual allowance, He will sustain us. Not with an overwhelming storehouse, but with exactly what we need, exactly when we need it.

So today, let us rest in the portion He has given. Let us take the bread that is laid before us and trust that tomorrow, there will be grace again. He is faithful. Always.

xo,

Dawn