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To Everything there is a season.

A personal reflection on grief, quiet seasons, and trusting God's faithfulness when the words don't come easily. An honest update on why I've stepped back to make space for healing, family, and faith following the unexpected passing of my Father.

Brenda McKenzie

8/4/20262 min read

A Quiet Season

If you've stopped by recently and noticed things have been unusually quiet around here, I wanted to let you know why.

A few weeks ago, my father passed away unexpectedly.

His death has ushered me into a season of grief that has been far more unpredictable than I could have imagined. Some days I feel almost like myself. Other days, I find that my emotional reserves are gone before the morning has even ended.

For those who know me well, you know I usually process life with a paintbrush or through words. This time has been different.

The words haven't come easily.

Neither has the inspiration.

I've learned that grief has a way of silencing things that once flowed naturally—not because they are gone forever, but because the heart is busy doing quieter work.

For now, I've chosen not to force it.

I'm allowing myself to embrace a quieter season—one spent loving my family well, making space to grieve honestly, and picking up a paintbrush simply because it helps me breathe again rather than because I have something to teach.

If you've reached out and I haven't responded, please know it has never been because I don't care. Right now my world has become very small by necessity, and I've discovered that my emotional capacity is far more limited than it once was.

You may still see me completing a few creative events this fall, particularly the workshops I committed to earlier this year. Those aren't a sign that life has returned to normal. They're simply promises I made before everything changed, and I want to honor those commitments as faithfully as I can. Beyond those, I'm intentionally leaving my calendar open and resisting the temptation to fill it before my heart is ready.

I'm grateful to say that I am not walking this road alone. I have the love of my family, dear friends who have carried me when I couldn't carry myself, wise Christian counseling, and above all, the faithful presence of Christ. He has not left me, even in the silence.

I don't know exactly when regular writing will return, but I don't believe this silence is the end of the story. In time, I suspect God will use even this journey of grief to reveal more of His faithfulness. When that season comes, I hope I'll be able to write about it honestly—not because I've found all the answers, but because I'll have witnessed God's faithfulness one quiet day at a time.

Until then, thank you for your patience, your prayers, and your grace.

Sometimes the most faithful thing we can do is stop striving long enough to let God tend the hidden places of our hearts.

I'll be back when it's time.

With love,

Brenda