You Keep Packing Boxes Even with a Broken Heart
I woke up this morning thinking about my divorce. Don’t ask me which one. At this point, one or two does not even matter, although the second one truly changed my life. It was not just the ending of a marriage. It was the moment I realized everything around me was about to change, and I still had to be clear-headed enough to make decisions. Heartbreak was real. Healing was going to have to happen. Grief was sitting right there with me. But so were bills, boxes, school zones, work commutes, moving plans, and a family who still needed life to feel as steady as I could make it.
That is the part I woke up thinking about. Not the argument. Not the paperwork. Not the hurt feelings or the history. I woke up thinking about how well I handled getting back on my feet, even though I did not feel like some strong woman standing in a movie scene with inspirational music playing behind me. I was not standing on a mountaintop with my arms stretched out and the wind blowing through my hair. I had to find a new place to live. I had a teen and a young adult, as well as a grandchild to think about. I wanted to make sure the schools did not change. I wanted to make sure the commute to work did not change too much. And I had to realize that it wasn’t just my life changing, but theirs as well. I was trying to keep the family steady while my own heart was breaking.
And let me tell you, there is something about packing during a life change that will teach you the truth real quick. You start off thinking you are just deciding between furniture, dishes, clothes, and paperwork. But really, you are standing there asking bigger questions. What belongs in this next part of my life? What am I holding onto because it matters, and what am I holding onto because I am scared to let it go? What is useful, what is sentimental, and what is just heavy? A moving box will humble you. You will be standing there with a lamp in one hand and your whole future in the other like, “Lord, are we really doing this today?”
The answer, of course, was yes. We were doing it that day. Because life does not always give you the courtesy of falling apart on your schedule. It does not say, “Take all the time you need, drink your water, journal in peace, and circle back when your nervous system has had a spa day.” No. Sometimes life says, “I know your heart is broken, but the lease still needs signing. Dinner still needs to happen. Somebody still needs to call the utility company.” Rude, honestly. Very rude. But also real.
Looking back, I think that season taught me something I did not fully understand while I was in it. Strength does not always feel like strength when you are living through it. Sometimes strength feels like exhaustion. Sometimes it feels like autopilot. Sometimes it looks like making one phone call, packing one box, filling out one form, and praying one small prayer because that is all you have in you. Sometimes strength is not a roar. Sometimes it is a tired woman saying, “Okay, what has to be done next?”
That is what getting back up looked like for me. Not one dramatic moment. Not one grand speech. Not one big declaration that I was healed and ready to conquer the world. It was trying to find the energy to do just one necessary thing at a time. Find a place. Keep it together for my kids. Sort through the house. Make decisions. Cry later if I had to. Breathe when I remembered. Keep going. Get through today. Then wake up and do it again tomorrow.
And I want to be clear about something. Keeping going does not mean it did not hurt. Between me, you, and the wall...it hurt like HELL! Sometimes people look back at the way you handled a hard season and assume you were fine because you were functioning. But functioning is not the same as being fine. A woman can sign paperwork with tears in her throat. She can pack a kitchen while her chest aches. She can smile because she wants the people around her to feel safe, then sit in the quiet later and wonder how everything changed so fast. We need to stop confusing composure with ease.
I think a lot of us have lived through seasons like that, even if divorce was not your story. Maybe you had to keep moving after a loss. Maybe you had to show up at work while your personal life was in pieces. Maybe you had to care for someone else while you were running on fumes. Maybe you had to rebuild after a job ended, a friendship changed, a diagnosis came, or a dream fell apart. Life has a way of flipping the table without asking who just cleaned the kitchen.
Whatever the situation was, you learned something in the middle of it. You learned that getting back up does not always look graceful. Sometimes it looks like crawling. Sometimes it looks like doing the bare minimum with a sincere heart. Sometimes it looks like making the next right choice while still feeling completely unsure about the future. Resilience is not always pretty. Sometimes it has swollen eyes, a half-packed closet, and a grocery list written on the back of an envelope. But it still counts.
That season taught me that no matter what knocks you down, the work is in how you get back up. And sometimes, you do not get back up all at once. Sometimes you get back up in pieces. You get your address changed before your heart catches up. You make sure the people you love have what they need before you fully understand what you need. You carry the boxes, make the calls, sign the forms, and somewhere along the way, you realize you are still here. Changed, yes. Tired, absolutely. But still here.
There is grace in that. Not the shiny kind of grace that looks pretty on a mug, but the real kind. The kind that sits with you on the floor when you are surrounded by things you used to recognize and a future you cannot quite see yet. The kind that helps you choose one next step when the whole road feels too long. The kind that reminds you that you do not have to feel strong to be held by God. Sometimes the next faithful step is packing the box. Sometimes it is making the call. Sometimes it is getting through dinner. Sometimes it is going to bed and trusting that morning will meet you with enough mercy for one more day.
So this week, I am not thinking about divorce as much as I am thinking about survival, rebuilding, and the quiet courage it takes to keep moving when your heart is still trying to understand what happened. I am thinking about the woman I was then, and I am proud of her. Not because she had it all figured out, but because she kept choosing what mattered. She chose stability for her children and her grandchild. She chose movement when she could have frozen. She chose to let go of what could not come with her. She chose to keep getting back up.
The practical takeaway I am carrying into this week is simple: if you are in the middle of your own hard season, do not ask yourself to solve the whole life at once. Ask yourself what the next faithful thing is, then do that. One box. One phone call. One honest conversation. One appointment. One prayer. One glass of water. One step. You do not have to feel healed to keep moving toward healing.
My question for you this week is this: looking back, what season taught you that you were stronger than you realized?
Until next Sunday...
From my coffee cup to yours… enjoy the rest of your coffee, carry a little grace into the week, and I'll meet you back here next Sunday.
– Renee 🤍
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