Tapestry of Faith: God is Still Weaving

When Life Reminds You How Fragile It All Is

Susan Season 1 Episode 23

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0:00 | 9:01

Unexpected loss has a way of reminding us …

how fragile life really is.

How quickly things can change.

How much we quietly assume there will be another ordinary day.

In this episode, I’m sharing from a heavier, more personal place …

about grief, sudden loss, the messy back side of faith, and what it really means when I say my hope is anchored in Jesus.

Because if I’m honest …

the back of my tapestry is messy, too.

I wrestle.

I grieve.

I don’t always understand what God is doing.

And I think it’s important to say that out loud.

This conversation isn’t about pretending faith makes hard things easy.

It’s about finding steadiness in the middle of fragility …

and remembering that God is not absent from the questions, the grief, or the unexpected seasons.

If your heart has been heavy …

if life has stirred something in you lately …

or if you’re quietly wrestling with loss, uncertainty, or what matters most …

this conversation is for you. 🤍

Tapestry of Faith with Susan D. Crum

Real conversations about faith, life, and the stories God is still weaving.

Connect with Susan:

📧 susandcrum@gmail.com

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God is still weaving. 🤍

SPEAKER_00

Hi everyone, welcome back to Tapestry of Faith. I'm Susan D. Crum. And honestly, today's conversation feels a little different. I typically do a daily Facebook Live and I almost didn't record that today. And truthfully, I almost didn't record this podcast either. Not because I didn't care, not because I didn't have something to say, but because my heart has been heavy. And sometimes when something unexpected shakes you, you don't automatic automatically know how to translate that into words. You just know something inside of you has been stirred. Unexpected loss has a way of doing that. One moment, life feels normal, ordinary, predictable. You're thinking about dinner, answering emails, planning the week, assuming there will be another ordinary day. And then something changes. And suddenly everything feels more fragile than it did five minutes ago. And I think that's part of my or why sudden loss hits us differently. Because it doesn't give us time to emotionally prepare, it interrupts our illusion of certainty. It reminds us in a very real way that life is precious and fragile and far less predictable than we'd like to believe. And if I'm honest, that reality has been sitting heavy on my heart. Because loss doesn't just make me sad, it makes me pause. It makes me look at life differently. It makes me re-evaluate things I normally rush past. Conversations, priorities, people, purpose, faith. And can I be really honest with you for a minute? Sometimes people assume because of what I do, because I talk about faith, because I encourage people, because I remind women that God is still weaving, that I've somehow mastered this. Like I'm permanently grounded, perfectly steady, always spiritually composed. Ha. The back of my tapestry, it's messy too. I grieve. I wrestle. I question. I don't always understand what God is doing. I don't walk around floating through life in perfect spiritual confidence. I'm human too. And when life reminds me how fragile everything really is, I feel it deeply. And honestly, I think this matters to say. Because sometimes in Christian spaces, we accidentally create this idea that faith means being unaffected. Like mature faith means less grief, less struggle, less wrestling. And I just don't believe that. Faith does not mean loss stops hurting. Faith does not mean disappointment disappears. Faith does not mean you suddenly understand everything that God allows. Faith isn't pretending. Faith isn't performance. Faith isn't bypassing human emotion. And when I say my hope is anchored in Jesus, I want to explain what I actually mean by that. Because I don't mean I never struggle. I don't mean I never fear. I don't mean I never have moments where I wrestle with hard questions. What I mean is when life feels unstable, I still know where my anchor is. An anchor doesn't remove the storm. It doesn't instantly calm the waves. It doesn't erase grief. It doesn't eliminate uncertainty. What it does is keep you connected to something steady when everything around you feels shaky. And I've thought a lot lately about the difference between fear of death and peace about eternity. Those aren't always the same conversation because grief still hurts. Unexpected endings still hurt. The people we love matter deeply. Goodbyes matter deeply. And I'm not saying any of this to like scare people. I'm saying it because I care. Because we assume we have time. We assume there will be another phone call, another ordinary day, another chance to say the thing. And sometimes life reminds us that tomorrow is a gift, not a guarantee. So maybe today the invitation isn't fear. It isn't panic. It isn't spiraling. Maybe it's gentler than that. Maybe it's simply pause. Take a breath. Look at your life. Look at your people. Look at what matters most. Look at what you've been postponing. Look at where your hope is anchored. Look at the conversations you've been meaning to have. The forgiveness you've been holding back. The love you've assumed, people already know. The faith you've been avoiding, leading into. Because life is fragile. And that reality can either make us fearful or it can wake us up. Wake us up to what matters, wake us up to intentional living, wake us up to gratitude, wake us up to deeper faith. And there's one more thing I want you to know today is this. The back of my tapestry is messy too. My faith is not polished. My hope is not perfect. My journey includes grief, questions, uncertainty, and wrestling. But in the middle of all of that, my hope is still anchored in Jesus. Not because life always makes sense, not because I have every answer, but because when life feels fragile, he remains steady. And maybe if your heart has been heavy too, if grief has been sitting close, if unexpected loss has stirred something in you, if you've been quietly wrestling, I just want you to know you are not alone. You do not have to pretend. And God is not absent from the messy backside of your tapestry either. He is present there too. And if this conversation resonated with you, I would love to stay connected. I do share more of these conversations on Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, and YouTube. That's where I'm showing up consistently and sharing more of this journey. You can just look for me, Susan D. Crumb, and come say hi. And if you're walking through grief, questions, uncertainty, please don't carry that quietly.