In John 16:16–22, Jesus speaks a simple sentence that lands like a deep, wordless ache: “A little while, and you will no longer see Me… and again a little while, and you will see Me.” His friends didn’t understand it. But they felt it. They were standing at the edge of loss, and Jesus was naming the pattern every grieving heart eventually learns: absence, sorrow, and then—slowly—presence returning in a new way.

This passage isn’t a riddle. It’s a map of how love transforms. The disciples could have chosen despair, denial, nostalgia, or even violence. Instead, Jesus invited them to walk through grief until presence shifted from beside them to within them.

We know this pattern. Anyone who has lost someone and still hears their wisdom rise inside them knows it. Grief breaks us open. Love returns by another door.

How do you fight this feeling? Like Jacob, Achilles, and Menelaus, do you wrestle with God? Or, like Jesus, do you duel with the devil for 40 days and nights in the wilderness? Or, like Mary and John, do you turn, head down, and head home, one step at a time, to finish Friday, then suffer through Saturday, one breath at a time, with no sight of Sunday in the forecast? Perhaps you do all of the above - or none of the above.

My faith became collateral damage in the valley of the shadow of my granddaughter’s death at age three. (Audio Included)