Cheryl Christopher

Friends, I have been counseling at CSChristian Counseling since August. I am now offering online counseling. Here is a link if you would like to schedule.

College Station Christian Counseling Cheryl Christopher Schedule a Session

To those of you who have lost your children, your spouse, or your parents this year….

Oh my…The first Holidays…

I feel your pain and your sorrow… if only I could spare you, I would

The Holidays—once a time for joy, for singing, for hope, for giving… for all the best parts of living… Good food, friends gathering, new clothes, dressing up, sharing, celebration.

What now?

How, oh dear God, do we even get through it?

If I could hold each of you in my arms, and I do in my prayers for you, I would tell you that your loved one is safe-- in the arms of Love, even greater than your own. I know that because the Lord has told me so.

But as you face the future, you want to know the truth. I know, because I did. The truth is, you will always miss them. Is the first year the hardest? Probably. But every year brings its own weight, its own ache, its own reminders.

Knowing they were a gift does help. They were never truly ours.

In Notes to Myself, Hugh Prather confronted this same truth on a night when he believed his beloved wife might not survive until morning. He wrote:
She may die before morning. But I have been with her for four years. There is no way I could feel cheated if I didn’t have her for another day. I didn’t deserve her for one minute, God knows. Few can choose when they will die. I choose to accept death now. As of this moment, I give up my “right to live.” And I give up my “right” to her life.
But it is morning. I have been given another day. And so has she. Another day to hear and read and smell and walk and love and glory. I am alive for another day. I think of those who aren’t.

When it comes to life and death, we have no “right” to be alive.
I had no right to the length of my children’s lives, no right to their presence, no right to celebrate their future achievements, and no right to the grandchildren who will never be born.

God measures out the days, the hours, the minutes of our lives. Every year, every day, every hour—every moment—is a gift.

And the only appropriate response to a gift is gratitude.

Choosing gratitude doesn’t remove the pain, but it does reframe our loss. Somehow, remembering that our loved ones were a gift makes the suffering just a little more bearable. We can choose to be angry for the shortness of their lives—or, even though it is often difficult while grieving, we can be grateful that they had a chance at life at all.

If we are honest, we would all agree: the pain has been a small price to pay for having had our beloved, even for a short time. And that gratitude—for those days, those moments, those treasured memories—will grow deeper with each passing year.

I encourage you to listen to the music I recommend in my book. It will help you grieve and, in time, heal. My favorite is "Way Maker" ( Live from Passion 2020). Just put it into Google. It is a song filled with reminders that we serve the living God, who is at work in our darkness to bring light.

While walking through this darkness—while our sufferings and losses remain a mystery—we still must choose how to live today. Will we choose faith in God’s character and His promises, or will we live by sight, trusting only what we can see at the moment?

Choose faith.

There will come a day when the waiting is over—when faith becomes sight. Believe with me that God truly is working “all things together for good” (Romans 8:28), and that He is “able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine” (Ephesians 3:20).

You will get through this! I am praying for you in the miracle-working name "Jesus".

To the families in the Texas Hill Country grieving the unthinkable—the loss of your precious children in the flood—Gary and I grieve with you. We, too, have walked this path, having lost two sons and a grandson under tragic circumstances.
From my book “A Portrait of Grief: Hope and Healing after the Loss of a Child, ”I offer this reflection:
“The loss of a child is the hardest of journeys. It is a path no one would ever choose—one we would avoid at all costs, if we could. But sadly, that is not an option. Though we may be skilled at avoiding pain, grief offers no detours, no shortcuts, and no workarounds.
There is only one way—and that is through.”

“The only way to get through grief is to grieve.”

(In the words of Julia Cameron), If I could,
I would--
take language and fold it like cool, moist rags,
I would lay words on your forehead. I would wrap words on
your wrists.
“There, there,” my words would say—or something better.
I would ask them to whisper, “Hush,” and “Shh, shh, it’s alright .”
I would ask them to hold you all night.

Even those words fall short, but when words fall short, I know the Spirit does not.
God draws near to the brokenhearted. He is not distant from your pain.
He does not rush you through the valley of the shadow of death—He walks with you in it.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” —Psalm 34:18

You are not alone.
You are held in the heart of a God who grieves with you, and who also holds your child in His arms. This is not the end of the story. Death does not have the final word. There is a greater reality of life beyond what we see, where every tear will be wiped away and every sorrow redeemed. That is not today, but that day will come.

May His presence be your comfort, and may His hope be your strength—one day at a time.

Dear friends,
I'm so sorry I'm not responding to all your wonderful posts. I have been burning the midnight oil, studying.I have not said anything about it, but I have been pursuing a Masters in Counseling at Lamar University online. I know what my many friends will say, (at your age!!?) Well yes. The LORD has told me to "comfort His people." So, I have been taking the road set before me. I will be practicing, under supervision, in College Station beginning in September at College Station Christian Counseling. I love you all and hope to have more free time in the future to follow your life paths. May God bless you, dear friends, and please pray for me when

EASTER, 2025

Several weeks ago, I attended my high school reunion. Honestly, I wasn’t too excited about going. My closest friends from those years never came to the reunions and didn’t attend this one either. I almost talked myself out of it. But to my surprise, I enjoyed it tremendously.

At first, it was hard to recognize some faces. Time had done its work—adding lines, silver hair, and a few extra pounds here and there. But after a minute or two, I could see it—the young face still shining within the older one. It didn’t take long for memories to bubble up, and for the years to melt away.

Today is Easter, and my mind keeps drifting from that earthly reunion to a greater one yet to come. One day, we will gather again—not at a country club or a banquet hall, but in the presence of Christ Himself. There, we will see our loved ones who have gone before us. I don't think it will take long to recognize them either. I’m not sure how it will be—will my lost boys be men? Will my mom be young? I don’t know. But I believe the same thing will happen and after just a glance, the heart will know. Time, sorrow, even death itself, will have lost its power to separate us.

Easter reminds us that because Jesus lives, this reunion is not just a hope—it’s a promise. The grave could not hold Him, and because of that, it cannot hold us either. We will see one another again, face to face, in a place of no goodbyes.

“For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And thus we shall always be with the Lord.”
— 1 Thessalonians 4:16-17 (NKJV)

My latest podcast just went live. I hope you have time to listen, but mostly I pray it encourages you.

Experiencing God's Hope and Healing through Significant Loss. Cheryl Christopher (Ep 78)

I haven't posted many pictures of our family, but here's a great memory of a time when all of our kids were with us at the beach. Laughter filled the air and life seemed so full.

Thoughour family looks different now, and loss has taken its toll, the love we shared and the memories we hold close continue.

2025
As we step into a new year, our hearts are heavy with the tragedy in New Orleans. We hold those grieving parents, grandparents, siblings, and loved ones close in our thoughts and prayers. For those who mourn, there is no magic morning when life returns to “normal.” Normal is forever changed, replaced by a new existence shaped by absence.

Many of us have lived in this new “normal” for years. With time, we may gain wisdom, treasures, and insights—gifts born of resilience—but none can outweigh the profound cost of our losses.

As this year begins, although we may sometimes ache with sadness, let us carry forward the enduring memory of our children. Their absence, vast as the sky, stretches over everything and shapes who we are. And yet, in a profound and mysterious way, their presence remains—woven into every breath we take and every horizon we gaze upon, forever part of the stories of our lives.

Let us honor them with hope, compassion, and the gentle acknowledgment of their lasting impact. And let us trust that God, in His faithfulness, walks with us every step of the way, holding us tenderly as we navigate this path.

🌟 **Merry Christmas, Everyone!** 🎄✨
As the holiday season wraps us in its warmth, I want to wish all my friends a Christmas filled with love, joy, and peace. ❤️

For those celebrating with full hearts, may your day be bright with laughter and cherished memories. And for those navigating loss or grief, I hope this season brings you moments of comfort and gentle reminders that you are deeply loved.

Thank you for being part of my life—you make it richer in so many ways. Here’s to honoring the beauty of the season together. 🎁🌟

Merry Christmas to you and yours! 🎅🎄

Thanksgiving is often painted as a time of joy, filled with family, laughter, and shared meals. But for those of us who have lost loved ones, the holiday can also be a poignant reminder of what—and who—is missing. This year, as the holiday approaches, I’ve been reflecting on how to honor both the grief I carry and the gratitude I still feel.

Grief is not an easy companion, especially during the holidays. It sneaks into the quiet moments: the empty chair at the table, the food they used to love, the traditions they we shared. It can make the warmth of the season feel distant, the celebrations bittersweet. And that’s okay. Grief doesn’t mean we’ve failed at Thanksgiving; it means we loved deeply.

But even amidst the heartache, there’s room for gratitude. Not the forced kind that demands we be “okay” or plaster on a smile, but the quiet, reflective gratitude for what we still have: the memories, the lessons, the love that endures. It’s in remembering the way their laughter lit up a room or how they made us feel seen and cherished. It’s in holding close the people who are still here with us, even if we have to love them through our tears.

Thanksgiving after loss may never feel the same, and that’s okay. It doesn’t have to. What it can be, though, is an opportunity to honor the complexity of our feelings—the grief and the gratitude, the sorrow and the love.

To anyone grieving this holiday season: You are not alone. Your loved one’s absence is felt, but so too is their impact on your heart and your life. May this Thanksgiving bring you moments of peace and a reminder of the love that continues to surround you.

If you feel like it, I’d love to hear how you’re honoring your loved ones this Thanksgiving. Let’s keep their memory alive together. 🧡

Each morning I receive an email from the W.A. Criswell Sermon Library. This is a small part of the post for today. I would add one sentence at the end...And we will see our children again.

I hope this encourages you.