By Joan Endicott
Dear Young at Heart, this column is the second in the “I Get To!”® series with GiGi & Joy. I pray this series creates a special opportunity for you to enjoy personally, while also sharing these stories and life lessons with the little ones you love, as well. May it connect with all ages, giving wonderful moments of compassionate conversation that serve to ground every heart, regardless of age, in the timeless truths of God’s Word. – Joan
The moment Joy appeared in the sunroom doorway, her red puffy eyes already telling the story of her hurting heart, she fell into GiGi’s lap and open arms – the way a hurting heart runs toward the comfort that feels like home.
“GiGi…” Joy whispered, her voice trembling, “my kitty… my Thomasina… she died.”
GiGi’s eyes filled with tears as she held Joy tighter. “Oh sweetheart…”
Through bursts of tears, Joy shared, “She wasn’t sitting in the window waiting for me when I got off the bus…so I started looking…(pausing to catch her breath between sobs) I found her under the big evergreen tree…she looked like she was sleeping.”
GiGi held her close, rocking her gently, letting the silence be her safe place. Princess curled at Joy’s feet, almost as if she understood too.
After a long moment, GiGi whispered, “Oh sweetheart… Thomasina was such a special friend. Your hurt in your heart is so big because your love for her is so big.”
Joy cried harder. “She was with me since I was little… I made her that box with a soft blanket when she had her kittens… She always slept at the foot of my bed… And now she’s just… gone.”
GiGi wiped tears from Joy’s cheek. “Tell me anything your heart wants to say. Your words, your tears, your memories – they all matter.”
So Joy talked.
She talked about Thomasina’s silly sideways run.
About how she loved to jump and play in the freshly dried laundry.
About the way she curled around Joy’s ankles like a furry sock.
And she giggled remembering the day Thomasina tried to steal spaghetti right off the table.
GiGi smiled softly. “Ohhh, every memory holds so much love!”
GiGi reached over and gently held Joy’s hand. “Sweetheart,” she said, “grief is a little word that carries huge feelings and meanings. It can feel confusing, lonely, heavy, and unfair. Grief is a companion none of us ever want to walk with… yet we all will.”
Joy sniffed and nodded.
“Grief comes,” GiGi continued, “when the thing we wished, with all our heart, wouldn’t happen… does.”
GiGi paused, letting it settle. “Life won’t ever be the same, because someone who made your world warm and wonderful isn’t here anymore – to cuddle, to climb into your lap, to follow you around the house, to be part of your everyday moments.”
Joy wiped her cheeks. “I miss her so much already. I’ll miss who I was when she was with me, and who we were together.”
GiGi squeezed her hand. “That’s exactly what grief is – it’s missing them, missing what they brought into your life, missing the ‘you’ that existed when they were here. You see, sweetheart, everyone, even a tiny tabby cat, is an irreplaceable gift from God.”
GiGi continued gently, “That big hurt inside you? That’s your huge love for her that feels like it has no place to go.”
Joy leaned her head against GiGi’s shoulder, letting the tears come again.
“It’s good to cry,” GiGi whispered. “Tears are God’s beautiful way of helping cleanse our heart. He cares so deeply about your pain that Scripture says He saves your tears – every single one.”
Joy’s eyes widened slightly. “He saves them?”
“Yes,” GiGi whispered. “You and your tears matter that much to Him.”
GiGi paused for a bit, then added: “You know, darling, it’s helpful to know that grief doesn’t only come when someone dies. We can grieve many things in this life.”
Joy looked curious, so GiGi continued: “We can grieve when a friend moves away, or when a dream doesn’t happen, or when something we hoped for doesn’t turn out the way we imagined. We grieve change. We grieve endings. We grieve the moments we wish we could go back to.”
Joy nodded slowly.
“We feel such loss when anyone or anything meaningful either changes or goes away.”
Joy leaned into her: “I never knew grief covered so much.”
“It does,” GiGi said gently. “And that’s why your heart feels so full, almost too full, sometimes. Because grief stretches across all the places love once lived.”
Joy looked up. “So… what do I do now?”
GiGi sighed, remembering. “When my precious Penny went to Heaven, my heart felt like it would never stop aching. You remember the stories… we laughed all the time, talked for hours about what truly matters in life, prayed together and encouraged each other in the Lord.”
Joy nodded.
“So now,” GiGi said, “I still talk to her sometimes. I tell her how much I miss her. I laugh about the funny things we laughed about before. And I thank God for making my life so much richer and wonderful with her in it. She’s not here to hug in person, but I can hug her in my heart.”
Joy smiled through her tears. “I think I’ll talk to Thomasina too.”
GiGi looked into Joy’s eyes. “As grief walks beside you, as unwanted as it is, I want you to get to know another special friend: self-compassion.”
Joy tilted her head. “What does that mean?”
“It means you treat your hurting heart with the same kindness you give others. You speak gently to yourself. You say, ‘This hurts, and it’s okay to hurt.’ You rest when you need to. You cry when you need to. You breathe slowly and remember that Jesus is near.”
Joy nodded thoughtfully. “I want to learn to do that.”
GiGi smiled softly. “And sweetheart, there’s something else that helps when grief feels so big you don’t know what to do with it.”
Joy looked up, waiting.
“When your grief feels huge,” GiGi said softly, “like a stormy wave inside your chest, imagine a gentle, kind voice inside your own heart stepping forward. That voice is your self-compassion. Picture it taking the sad part of your heart by the hand and whispering, ‘I’m here. I care. You’re safe with me.’”
Joy closed her eyes. “It’s like the kind part of my heart gives the sad part a hug.”
“That’s exactly it,” GiGi said, stroking her hair. “That’s how God helps your heart heal – one kind, gentle moment at a time.”
GiGi gazed out the window, her eyes soft and faraway.
“Nothing will ever be exactly the same,” she said quietly, “because Thomasina isn’t here to make it so. But what a beautiful gift God has given: the gift of remembering. Of telling stories. Of keeping the love alive by sharing it.”
Joy sighed deeply. “Just like that Diamond Rio song you like, GiGi… sometimes you just want ‘one more day.’”
GiGi smiled, “Yes, we’ll always want one more day with those we love. That’s why Heaven will be so wonderful.”
Then GiGi began humming the melody, pulling Joy into another warm embrace.
Joy rested her head on her GiGi’s shoulder.
“Thank You, God,” she whispered softly, “for Thomasina… and for helping me feel Your love as I learn how to miss her.”
Connection questions: 1. What was your favorite part of the story? 2. What do you love about that part? 3. Would you like to do that too? 4. What will that look like? 5. Today, when you look through your self-compassion lens, what do you see? Grab your FREE copy of Joan Endicott’s “I Get To!”® book at www.JoanEndicott.com. See Joan’s encouraging words in her short videos on social media. Joan is an Award-Winning Keynote Speaker, Author and Coach whose coaching has reached over 30 countries. Find out more about her speaking and coaching here: www.JoanEndicott.com.
