Weeping & Wonder.

There are seasons when our hearts ache from the weight of life, when the tears come unbidden and grief feels endless. We find ourselves in a valley so deep that the way out is unclear, and in the quiet moments, the weeping spills over like a river. Yet, just as mysteriously, there are other moments filled with wonder—those awe-inspiring glimmers of beauty that break through the heaviness. Both grief and awe seem to dance together in these times, inviting us to feel deeply, to live fully, and to draw nearer to the heart of God.

This week, I woke up to one of the most perfect days. The sun was out, the weather was perfectly warm, and I decided to take the children into town for some lunch. I noticed everything—the color of the leaves on the trees, the blue sky sprinkled with white, fluffy clouds. I whispered to the Lord, Let me hold on to this beautiful feeling.

It wasn’t more than a few hours later when the sky turned grey, and the wind came from nowhere. My heart sank as I watched the sudden change. Isn’t that what our inner turmoil can often feel like? How one moment we’re basking in light, and the next, we’re swept into a storm? But I held on to the images of those earlier moments, those glimpses of beauty, as they served as an anchor when the winds of sorrow and confusion blew.

This season, I’m caught between both—sometimes it feels like I’m swinging from the depths of brokenness to the peaks of awe in a matter of moments. One moment, I’m weeping over the things I’ve lost, the parts of myself I’m still trying to heal. The next, I’m struck with an overwhelming sense of joy and gratitude for the beauty that remains—an unexpected sunset, a kind word from a friend, the way God whispers His love through the little things. It’s as if my soul is stretching in both directions, trying to hold both the weeping and the wonder.

And here’s what I’m learning: God invites both.

He doesn’t shy away from our brokenness. He doesn’t turn His face from our tears. In fact, I believe He leans in closer, collecting each tear in His hands and holding them sacred. In the Psalms, David reminds us that God keeps track of our sorrows, that He bottles up our tears. They are not wasted. They matter to Him.

“But you, O Lord, are a shield about me, my glory, and the lifter of my head” (Psalm 3:3). In the middle of both weeping and wonder, He is the One who lifts our gaze, who steadies our hearts when the world feels unsteady.

But God also invites us to marvel. Even in the middle of the storm, He places beauty before us. Sometimes it’s hard to see when the pain feels too loud, but His wonders are there, waiting for us to notice. They don’t always come in grand gestures or loud announcements. Sometimes they arrive quietly—a moment of stillness, a deep breath after a long day, or the sudden realization that, even in the mess, we are still held.

This mingling of weeping and wonder, of sorrow and joy, it’s part of the rhythm of life with Him. We were never promised a life free of pain, but we were promised His presence in every season. The brokenness, the confusion, the striving—they’re all part of the journey. And so is the awe. So is the deep contentment that comes when we realize that even when everything feels upside down, He is steady. He is good. He is here.

Maybe, just maybe, the weeping opens us up to wonder. Maybe when our hearts break wide open, they create more room to receive the beauty God has for us. Maybe the tears we cry soften the soil of our souls, making space for new growth, new life.

If you find yourself in a similar season—where grief and gratitude sit side by side—know this: God welcomes both. He is the God of our tears, and He is the God of our wonder. There is no need to rush through the weeping or to grasp too tightly at the moments of joy. Simply rest in the knowledge that both have their place in His hands, and that He is making something beautiful out of it all.

So, weep when you need to. Let the tears fall and the grief pour out. And when those moments of wonder come, let them fill you with awe. Both are gifts. Both are part of His invitation to live fully, deeply, and in His presence.

In the end, I believe it’s the mingling of weeping and wonder that teaches us the most about His heart for us. And as we walk through this season, may we find comfort in knowing that we don’t journey alone. He is with us, in the tears and in the awe, guiding us ever closer to His love.

, Sarah xx.

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