I recently became a certified Pilates instructor. It’s not something I imagined doing in this season of life, but here I am. A few weeks ago, I sat on a mat in a quiet studio for two long days—learning, practicing, and absorbing everything I could. However, by the end of the training, my hips were screaming and my mind stretched just as much as my muscles.

Pilates is a unique kind of workout. It’s low-impact but high-intensity. Each movement is small, intentional, and focused on building strength from the inside out. There’s no loud music or high-energy distractions. You can’t zone out or multitask. It demands that you be fully present—heart, mind, and body.

And I love it.
At this age and stage, I know how essential this kind of strength-building is for physical health, mental clarity, and emotional grounding. It’s a discipline that calls me to slow down, to breathe deeply, and to lean into discomfort rather than rush past it.

One cue we hear often during Pilates is:
“Pull your shoulders down. Don’t wear them like earrings.”

It makes me smile every time. But it’s true—when things get hard, our shoulders rise. Tension sneaks in. We brace. We disconnect from our core—the very place that gives us balance, support, and strength. But when we pause, breathe, and re-engage from the inside, we find alignment again. We remember what’s holding us together.

And as I sat in the stillness, sweating through one more slow, deliberate movement, I thought:
This is grief.

Grief tightens everything.
Our body.
Our thoughts.
Our hearts.

We tense up without realizing it. Our shoulders rise. Our breaths grow shallow. We brace for the next wave of pain, wearing our tension like armor—like earrings we never meant to put on. And in the effort to survive, we often disconnect from the parts of ourselves that most need healing.

But healing requires presence. What if, instead of tensing up, we leaned into the pain and asked God to meet us in it? 
We stay in the moment, breathe through the ache instead of bypassing it, gently lower our shoulders and let the pain speak… without letting it steal our peace.

Just like Pilates, grief asks us to build strength from the inside out.
And that kind of strength? It comes slowly.
It comes intentionally when we choose to stay present in the process.

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Let Grief Flow Like Breath

In The Freedom to Feel, I remind readers that grief isn’t just sorrow—it’s an invitation. An invitation to experience more of God, more deeply. But like all invitations, it has to be accepted. It takes courage to say, “Yes, God. I’m willing to lean into the pain if it means I’ll find more of You.”

You’ve probably heard the phrase, “Time heals all wounds.” But that’s not entirely true. Time is only a gift when paired with intention. If we sit and wait for the pain to pass, we may grow discouraged or even slip into despair.

Healing is active.
It’s spiritual.
It’s relational.

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 A Posture of Surrender

The simplest, most powerful exercise in grief is prayer. When we pray—when we worship—we are saying, “God, I trust You with the pain. I trust You to redeem what feels unredeemable.” Prayer is the practice of getting out of our own way and giving the Holy Spirit access to places we’ve shut off.

Start by asking for help.
Every grieving heart needs support.
No one heals alone.

Then listen. Tune your spiritual senses. Let God surprise you with comfort, guidance, and even joy. Yes—joy can still find its way in, even in the valley.

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Don’t Let Grief Stop You From Living

Tears are sacred. So are routines.
Let yourself cry.
But also—go for the walk.
Make the dinner.
Laugh at the movie.
Dance to the music.
Talk to a friend.

Grief doesn’t mean life has to stop. In fact, grieving well requires that you keep living.

Grieving alone is dangerous.
Unchecked, unshared grief too easily slips into despair.
You were never meant to carry this alone.

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A Gentle Invitation

If you’re grieving today, take a moment.

Close your eyes

Take a breath.

Pull your shoulders down.

And ask the Holy Spirit to come into your pain

Your healing doesn’t have to be rushed.
But it does need your presence.

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Scripture Reflection

“Be still, and know that I am God.”
—Psalm 46:10 (NIV)

This isn’t passive stillness—it’s soul-deep surrender.
In the original Hebrew, “be still” also means let go.
Let go of the tension.
Let go of the fear.
Let go of trying to hold everything together.

Pull your shoulders down.
And breathe.

God is God.
You are held.
And that is such good news.

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Let’s walk this healing journey together.
If this post resonated with you, I invite you to:

• Subscribe to my newsletter for more soul-grounding reflections.

• Read my book The Freedom to Feel—a guide for anyone navigating loss, trauma, or unexpected pain.

• Share this post with a friend who’s grieving. You never know who needs to be reminded that they’re not alone.

• Consider Grief Coaching, it might very well change your life.

Healing is possible.
One breath, one prayer, one step at a time.
Let’s do this together.