Oftentimes, we think of grace as something we receive only when we fail morally. But in the last couple of months, I learned that grace is just as present—perhaps even more so—when we are exhausted, grieving, and unsure about how to keep going. I experienced grace as God’s sustaining presence in seasons when life feels heavy, and the soul feels empty.
In August, I dropped my daughter off at college and returned to a partly empty house. My husband stayed back with her to help her with the actual move and the transition to a new city and season of life, while I brought our sons home. I walked into a quiet that felt unfamiliar and aching. My sons were grieving too. They missed their sister deeply, and their sadness lingered in small, ordinary moments—in the way meals felt different, in the way our after-school conversations and car rides felt different, in the spaces she used to fill, in conversations that now paused where her voice once was. As a mother, it was hard to carry my own grief while watching theirs. In that season, God’s grace did not rush us toward acceptance. Instead, it allowed space for sorrow.
Scripture reminds us that 'The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit' (Psalm 34:18).
Grace showed up as God’s nearness, not His explanations.
At the same time, my body began to feel unfamiliar. Perimenopause brought brain fog, deep fatigue, emotional swings, and PMS that at times felt like depression. I struggled to recognise myself. I found myself binge eating and binge watching and sometimes just lying on the bed without wanting to meet anyone or do anything. Yet even here, grace met me. God did not meet my weakness with disappointment but with patience.
'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness' (2 Corinthians 12:9).
Grace was not waiting for me to get better; it was carrying me while I was not.
One of the unexpected ways God’s grace showed up was through the routine of going to school and teaching. On days when my mind felt foggy and my emotions felt fragile, the simple rhythm of showing up, standing in front of students, and doing the work God had placed before me became a gift. I did not always feel strong or inspired, but the structure itself steadied me. God used ordinary faithfulness to sustain me.
Grace was present not in extraordinary moments, but in the quiet gift of routine.
God’s grace also reached me through my husband. He extended patience when I was irritable, kindness when I withdrew, and steadiness when I felt unsteady. His grace toward me reflected God’s heart—love that stays when things are messy.
'Bear with each other… just as the Lord has forgiven you' (Colossians 3:13).
Through him, I experienced grace not as words, but as presence.
During this season, I also experienced deep strain in my relationship with my parents. A major conflict left wounds and distance at a time when I already felt depleted. I did not have the emotional strength to repair things on my own. Yet God’s grace softened hearts, including mine. He gave me the humility to reach out and the wisdom in what to say.
'The Lord is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and rich in love' (Psalm 145:8).
He reminded me of Jesus’ rich love for me. He reminded me of the multiple times He was gracious to me and how I was not to my parents. He moved my heart with compassion and softened my parents’ hearts with compassion to accept my apology. Grace did not erase the pain, but it made reconciliation possible.
As I reflect on this season, I think of Hagar in the wilderness. She had been sent away from Abraham’s household, carrying her son into the desert with limited water and no clear future. When the water ran out, her son was close to death from thirst. Heartbroken and in despair, she placed him under a bush and walked away, unable to watch him die. Hagar was alone, rejected, and certain that the wilderness would be the end of the story. Yet God heard the cries of the child and met Hagar there. He did not immediately remove her from the wilderness, but 'God opened her eyes and she saw a well of water' (Genesis 21:19). God’s grace sustained her in the place of abandonment and fear. The wilderness remained, but grace provided what was needed to live.
Looking back, I see that God’s grace met me in much the same way. He did not remove the exhaustion, the grief, or the unfamiliar changes in my body all at once. Instead, He provided daily water—through routines, relationships, reconciliation, and His quiet nearness. Grace carried me through what felt like the wilderness for me.
And it was enough.
Image by svklimkin from Pixabay
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I loved this article. Beautifully written. How true, grace in the quiet routines. Wow!
This really touched me and encouraged me today and was able to relate a lot with. God bless you