After loss, most of us don’t just grieve.
We fortify.
We learn quickly that life can shift without warning. That phone calls can change everything. That bodies fail. That plans unravel. That certainty is fragile.
And when that kind of reality settles into your bones, something inside you quietly says,Never again.
Never again will I trust so easily.Never again will I need so deeply.Never again will I let myself be caught off guard.
It doesn’t feel dramatic. It feels wise. Responsible, even.
We call it strength.
But often, it’s self-protection.
Self-protection is not a flaw. It’s a survival response. After grief, your nervous system is simply trying to keep you safe. You become more careful. More guarded. More measured in what you reveal and who you rely on.
You say “I’m fine” faster.You ask for less help.You hold your emotions tighter.You stop expecting too much from people — because expectations feel dangerous.
And in the beginning, that armor helps.
It keeps you upright.It keeps you functioning.It keeps you from completely unraveling.
But what helps us survive doesn’t always help us live.
There’s a quiet moment — sometimes months or even years later — when survival mode starts to feel heavy. The walls that once felt protective now feel isolating. The independence that once felt empowering now feels lonely.
You realize you’re safe…but you’re also alone in ways you didn’t intend.
That’s why I believe this first week of Lent matters so much.
Lent isn’t about giving up sweets. It’s about paying attention.
And maybe the thing some of us are being invited to lay down isn’t sugar or caffeine.
Maybe it’s our armor.
Vulnerability after loss feels risky. It requires trust in a world that proved itself unpredictable. It requires admitting you still have tender places. It requires letting someone see the parts of you that still ache.
But here’s the quiet truth: protection can become a prison.
If self-protection kept you alive in your hardest season, you can honor that.
And you can also gently ask:
Is this still serving me?
Or is it keeping me from connection, from healing, from being fully known?
This week, instead of striving to be stronger, what if you practiced being softer?
Not reckless. Not naive.
Just open enough to let a little light in.
Maybe it’s telling a trusted friend you’re not actually fine.Maybe it’s letting yourself cry without apologizing.Maybe it’s praying honestly instead of politely.
Lent is not about punishment. It’s about return. It’s about realigning your heart with truth.
And the truth is this:
You were never meant to carry grief alone.You were never meant to protect your heart from all risk.You were created for connection — even after loss.
If this resonates, I wrote a deeper reflection for Week 1 of the Lent series on my blog: Lay Down Self-Protection: A Lenten Reflection on Vulnerability and Grief.
Inside, I share the scripture guiding this week, three focused teaching points, and journaling prompts to help you gently examine where your armor may be heavier than you realized.
You don’t have to tear down every wall overnight.
But maybe this week, you loosen one brick.
That’s enough for now.
If you’re ready to explore this more deeply, I’ve written a full Week 1 reflection with scripture, three teaching points, and guided journaling prompts on the blog.
Less armor. More grace. One faithful step at a time.
