Done with Crying… But Not Done Hoping

I love to read. I love to learn. And with both come questions.

For those who know me, they know that when I ask questions, I’m genuinely trying to understand. Whether it’s about processing chickens, canning vegetables, fruits (maybe even meats), or how something works at church, I want to know the “why” and even the “how” behind it. Learning has always been part of who I am.

So it shouldn’t have been a surprise when a book called Done with the Crying by Sheri McGregor appeared in my social media feed. The title immediately caught my attention.

So I downloaded it on Audible. You see, this book wasn’t just another book recommendation. It felt personal.

One of my children has been estranged from me for more than twenty-five years. I have grown to accept that unfortunately. My own Mother didn’t agree with my parenting style and felt her way of raising is what he needed. While I am not or have not been perfect, I did expect him to work, contribute to society and make an honest living. To work for what he has which would instill accountability, ownership and respect. Unfortunately my oldest has chosen my Mom’s parenting since he was in his mid teens. It is clear that has not benefited him.

But another also chose this path of estrangement and/or distance and rejection just over two years ago. This was for different, but connected reasons. I say “just” two years, but if you’ve experienced estrangement, you know that time doesn’t really matter. Two years can feel like an eternity.

This most recent estrangement doesn’t only include our daughter and her husband. It also includes our three-year-old granddaughter.

Every Tuesday, we babysat her. We spent entire days together, just the two of us. I watched her curiosity grow. I watched her feed her babydoll, eat her waffles and sit beside me, watching Miss Rachel. She brightened my days. Tuesday became my favorite day of the week. We laughed, played, learned, and simply enjoyed being together. Not to mention how much she loved walking our Bella.

Then… it all stopped.

For the past two years, I’ve quietly accepted the estrangement. When people ask about my family, I smile and answer as though everything is fine. I’ve blamed myself. I’ve replayed conversations over and over, wondering what I could have said differently or what I should have done better. I have tried to see things through her lens. I have reviewed and challenged my own parental style. I have even thought of conversations from years ago that would lead me to her actually understanding the situation. I have replayed all the childhood memories. Looked at pictures. Tried to make sense of it all or understand what we didn’t do. All to no avail. It has been equally important, to accept mistakes I did make. And in the end, I choose to own those mistakes but focus on the good I/we did. I choose to reclaim myself as a good mother, pulling back the veil of shame, focusing on the happy memories by finding the evidence that we did good. All of my children were well cared for, loved, protected, fed, supported in each interest/sport, and we cheered each on. We entertained their friends, took annual trips to Disney, the beach and other places, allowing each to ‘bring a friend’. And even on trips that were focused on one child, we always found a way to include all….even if it meant finding a teacher supply shop to set up a little classroom right at home. It was also very important to me as a working Mom to spend a few minutes each morning with them as they waited to go to school. We waited, saying our favorite scripture “Psalm 118:24” then waved good-bye after they got to their window seat. It was priceless, even if it meant I had to work late just to have those few moments each morning. The millions of pictures I captured are the proof. The smiles weren’t faked and we would do it all over again…but maybe a little different and better!

But still, I’ve carried the weight of rejection mostly in silence.

And while my relationship with God has grown tremendously during this season, and my church family has surrounded me with incredible love, prayers and support, I still struggle with the hurt.

So I decided. “What do I have to lose?”

Three chapters into Done with the Crying, something unexpected happened. I felt understood.

Sheri McGregor gently addresses so many pieces of this complicated journey—our own past, our children’s childhood, changing family dynamics, culture, expectations, and the reality that sometimes adult children make decisions we simply cannot change.

One truth, in particular, has stayed with me: I cannot control my adult children’s choices. I can only control how I respond to them.

That may sound simple. It isn’t. It has taken years for me to even begin accepting that truth.

The book also reminds readers that while grief is real, we cannot allow what we’ve lost to consume the life we still have. That lesson hit me hard.

If I spend every day mourning the relationships I no longer have, I risk overlooking the beautiful relationships that remain. My husband. My other children. My other grandchildren. My family. My friends. My church. The people God has intentionally placed in my life today.

Living in the present doesn’t mean I’ve stopped loving my children. It means I refuse to let grief steal every ounce of joy God still provides.

Another concept the book discusses is mindful coping—being aware of our thoughts, acknowledging our emotions, and choosing healthy responses rather than allowing those emotions to control us.

While this isn’t a Christian book, I have found it incredibly easy to weave my faith into every chapter.

Where Sheri encourages acceptance, I find myself praying.

Where she talks about letting go of control, I think of Proverbs 3:5-6.

Where she encourages healing, I remember that God is close to the brokenhearted. “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18

My healing doesn’t come from a self-help book. It comes from Jesus. But sometimes God places a book, a counselor, a friend, or a pastor in our path to help us take the next step.

I don’t know how this story ends. I still pray for reconciliation. I still pray for softened hearts. I still pray that one day my granddaughter remembers me and will know how deeply she has always been loved. But I also am determined that if there is ever a reconciliation, my child finds me happy, strong and healthy. And sees that this trial, and we know trials are promised by God, was used to build my Faith and strengthen my walk with our Lord and Saviour. So to me, I say – I can do this!

I also know this… Healing doesn’t require reconciliation to begin. Healing begins when we surrender our pain to God. It begins when we stop carrying guilt that doesn’t belong to us. It begins when we accept our mistakes, recognize that our adult children are responsible for their own choices, and trust God with the pieces we cannot fix.

One realization this book has also given me is that my story isn’t unique. Sadly, parent-child estrangement is far more common than I ever imagined. So many parents are quietly carrying this same burden, afraid to talk about it because of shame, embarrassment, or fear of judgment.

If that’s you, I hope you know you’re not alone.

As I’ve reflected on my own life, I’ve also thought about my relationship with my parents. They made mistakes. Plenty of them. I could have chosen estrangement. But I didn’t. That wasn’t how many families navigated conflict in the 1960s, 70s, or even the 80s. We worked through hard things differently. Not perfectly—but differently.

I’ve also had to acknowledge another difficult truth. My relationship with my own mother is somewhat estranged today—not because of my choice, but because of hers.

And that, too, is something I must surrender. Acceptance doesn’t mean approval. It doesn’t mean giving up hope. It simply means placing what I cannot change into God’s hands and trusting Him to carry what I no longer can.

As I continue reading Done with the Crying, I’ll share what I’m learning here. Not because I’ve figured it all out. But because maybe someone else needs to know they’re not walking this road alone.

A Moment to Reflect

Have you ever carried a relationship that seemed beyond your ability to fix?

Maybe it’s a child. A parent. A sibling. A lifelong friend.

What would it look like today to release that burden into God’s hands—not giving up hope, but giving Him control?

Take a few quiet moments today and pray honestly. Ask God to heal the places that still ache. Ask Him to help you live fully in the relationships you still have. And trust that even when hearts remain distant, He never leaves yours.

Lord, I am here! Help me heal while I continue to hope. Amen.