Dating & The Elephant in the Room

What I’m about to share with you came straight from my notes from our latest Guide Groups. If you’re not familiar, it’s our virtual gathering for all widowers who want to grow in their walk with God and find community that understands.

Widowers from 22 states, plus Canada and Guatemala attended this past gathering. I realize impact isn’t measured by registration forms. But remembering my early days as a widower, with no seasoned guide in sight, I’m in awe of what God is doing almost ten years later. This pain hasn’t been wasted with this global community and it won’t be wasted for you.

While this content was originally written with widowers in mind, it applies just as much to widows. And if you're a parent, in-law, friend, or part of the extended community walking alongside someone grieving—please keep reading. I address the elephant in the room at the end.

Let’s dig in:

The most loving thing you can do as you consider dating again isn’t to rush into something new.

It’s to prepare:

• For yourself

• For your children

• For the memory of your late spouse

• And for whoever may come next

You’re not starting over.
You’re standing in the middle of something you have already grown.

Before inviting someone new into your life, ask:
What’s thriving?
What’s been neglected?
What needs weeding?

First marriages start with an empty field and a question:
“What can we grow together?”

Second marriages begin in a garden that’s already been planted.
The question becomes: “What have you already grown?”

This is your moment to slow down and be honest—with yourself, your kids, and your community.

If you’re dating, pay attention to her garden too.
Look at her faith. Her purpose. Her character.
Don’t bring her in to pull weeds you’ve ignored. And don’t ignore the caution of those you trust.

As one of our Retreat Guides, Kyle, says:
“Red flags just look like flags when you’re wearing rose-colored glasses.”

Spend more time with your children when you start dating, not less.
Like vines, they cling to whatever is closest.
Make sure what they’re holding on to is steady and safe.

Ask:
Is the soil ready?
Are my children ready?
Am I still grieving—or am I growing?
Love prepares before it pursues.

Now Let’s Address the Elephant in the Room:

To Widowers/Widows:

You may notice this season of dating brings up strong emotions for you, but also your community. This is important…Pray for your community—and show grace. They’ve walked with you through more than you remember.
In those early days of grief, they held your children, dropped off meals, and sat by your side.

Now, as you share something new—or someone new—don’t forget: this touches more lives than just your own.
You don’t need permission, but you could use perspective.
Be considerate and loving in how you communicate.
Honor their ongoing role in your story and make it clear that there is still a place for them.

Most of the time, what sounds like pushback from them or conditions is actually fear—or love that is unsure of where to go.
Lead with humility and bless them with your words every chance you get.

Honor should exist in all seasons.
Let God’s Word be your guide.
Not guilt. Not timelines. Not loneliness.
Let it be love. Let it be wisdom.
Let it be with the goal of a garden well tended, not firm boundaries and a proven point.

To Our Community:

Thank you.
You’ve stood in the gap when it hurt and carried your own sorrow while trying to support us through ours. That’s not easy—and please know it hasn’t gone unnoticed.

We know you don’t get a title like “widow” or “widower” that hints at your reality. Our culture hasn’t come up with a name for the grief of a mother, father, sibling, or best friend left behind. So you’ve had to quietly carry the ache—smiling when you’d rather not, explaining when you’d rather be understood.

We see you, and we know this has been heavy for you, too.
Dating after loss has a way of reopening wounds.
Remember, none of us chose this grief. We are all trying to live well with what we’ve been given.

The reality is, some days, we’re all guessing.

Know that we do long for your presence.
We want to include you in this next chapter.
And yes—grief can cloud judgment and put our sin nature on full display.
But don’t forget: we once chose our late spouse well…the very person you loved, raised, and now mourn…and they chose us, too.
Let that give you hope that we can choose well again.

This part of the journey tests relationships maybe more than any other part.
It can feel uncertain for everyone, but it doesn’t have to break the unity that honors God and our loved one.

Our loved one wouldn’t want us to drift apart and miss out on the precious gift of time that they battled so hard for in their own life.
With grace, this new season can redeem instead of re-injure.

So please seek to understand first and bring peace with you.
We mirror emotions more than we realize.

In the end, we all need each other.
And by the grace of God, we can walk forward—together.
Proof to all around us that Jesus really does change everything, especially our hope and our healing.

With you,

Daniel Brooker

Founder, Refuge Widowers

Mother’s Day is Coming

You know it, I know it. And if you’re like many widowers, you’ve probably been feeling the weight of this day long before it even arrives. The church service. The kids. The well-meaning—but painful—reminders of the wife and mother you lost.

But let me ask you a question: Have you made a plan for this day? Or are you just bracing yourself to react as it comes?

I get it. It’s a hard day—one you wish you could skip entirely. But what if you could approach it with a plan—a strategy to lead your kids through the day and make sure that while it may be tough, it doesn’t control you?

What if, instead of feeling victimized by the emotions of the day, you could use it as an opportunity to lead with grace, love, and strength?

It’s possible. And I would love to help you get there.

Here are some suggestions to help you navigate Mother’s Day with confidence:

1. Check in with your kids before Sunday

Don’t just assume they’re okay. Ask how they’re feeling about the day. You might hear everything from “I’m fine” to “I’m anxious.” Listen. Let them share. Acknowledge their emotions.

2. Have a plan for the day

Think through the day’s events—church, meals, downtime. Know what you’ll do, where you’ll go, and how you’ll handle tough moments. Be proactive, not reactive.

When you have a plan, you’re less likely to feel overwhelmed.

Consider skipping the restaurant for lunch—it’ll likely be filled with families celebrating their moms, and that could be hard on all of you.

3. Let your kids choose where to sit 

If your church has a kids’ program or Sunday school, offer them the choice to either sit with you or go.

Let them decide what feels most comfortable. This shows them you're considering their needs, while still being present with them.

4. Honor her memory together

This could be as simple as looking through pictures, sharing happy memories, or making her favorite food.

Another idea: consider bringing flowers to the graveside—a simple, tangible way to remember her together.

Honor her memory in a way that feels healing for you and your kids. You might be surprised by how much this bonds you.

5. Who can you invite into your day?

You don’t need to be surrounded by a crowd, but having safe, supportive people around can help you get through it.

If you have friends or family who understand your pain, invite them in.

Isolation only makes the day heavier.

6. Emotions are ok

Whether they feel joy, sadness, or both, remind your kids it’s okay.

Grief is messy and unpredictable—there’s no “right” way to feel or express it.

7. Take a picture together 

Even if you don’t feel like it—take one.

It might seem like just another thing to do, but trust me: years from now, you’ll be glad you have a picture that shows you made it through, together.

It’s proof that even on the hardest days, you're still showing up, leading your family, and making memories.

8. Pray together

Before the day gets busy, gather your kids and pray.

It doesn’t need to be eloquent—just honest. Ask God for strength to get through the day and peace for your children’s hearts.

Remind them—and yourself—that Jesus is near to the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18).

9. Bonus points

Call your mother in law to wish her a Happy Mother’s Day. It will mean more than you can probably imagine.

You don’t have to walk through this day unprepared or alone.

It’s okay to feel the pain—just don’t let it control you.

Use this day as an opportunity to lead your family with intention.

You may not have all the answers, but you can point your kids to Jesus, the One who does—the One who knows what it’s like to carry pain and offers us a hope that never fades.

Happy Mother’s Day, Bro

With you and for you

Daniel Brooker 

Founder, Refuge Widowers

Steady Steps

I was reading Psalm 57 recently, and I haven’t been able to shake it since.

This chapter captures a moment in David’s life that feels deeply familiar if you’ve lived through loss. David—the same man who brought down Goliath, the one anointed to be the next king of Israel—isn’t sitting on a throne here. He’s hiding in a dark cave.

He had the promise of the crown, but not the weight of it. Not yet.
He was still running—for his life—from the current king, Saul, who had let fear of not being important anymore and jealousy take over his heart.

What struck me wasn’t just the distress David was in. It was what he chose to do while in that dark place—before anything changed and before he knew what would happen next.

He started taking steps. Not dramatic, not flashy. But faithful ones.

If you’re reading this, there’s a good chance you know the darkness of the cave too. Not a literal one—but the kind of darkness that shows up with grief.
The kind where mornings feel heavy, where the silence is loud, and the weight of their absence presses down on your chest. Where your heart longs to move forward, but your legs just don’t want to.

As a widower for the last decade, I’ve been there too. I’ve stood at the bottom of the valley, wondering how in the world I’d ever take another step. And what I’ve learned is this: healing doesn’t come from sprinting—it comes from steady steps.

So if you’re in the dark right now, stuck between the pain behind you and the unknown ahead—Psalm 57 might be the guide you didn’t know you needed.

Let’s look at the steps David chose while still in the darkness:

Step 1: Start Your Day with Intention
“Awake, my glory! Awake, O harp and lyre! I will awake the dawn!” (Psalm 57:8)

David didn’t wait for the day to shake him out of bed. He decided to meet the morning—with all his distress, and still with purpose. That first step may be quiet, but it’s bold. Wake with intention—even if it’s just sitting up and saying, “God, I’m here.”

Step 2: Let Worship Settle Your Heart
“My heart is steadfast, O God, my heart is steadfast! I will sing and make melody!” (Psalm 57:7)

David’s circumstances hadn’t changed—but his posture did. Worship doesn’t erase grief. It reminds your soul who’s still holding you in it. Let your heart settle in that truth.

Step 3: Don’t Hide Your Hope
“I will give thanks to you, O Lord, among the peoples; I will sing praises to you among the nations.” (Psalm 57:9)

Sometimes after loss, we feel like hope is too risky to speak out loud. After all, our prayers didn’t get answered the way we wanted, right? What we could label as our most unanswered prayer is often the most known thing about us. Likewise, David was anointed to be king, very publicly defeated Goliath—and then had to hide for his life. Yet David didn’t plan on whispering about the One he still placed his hope in. He chose to declare God’s goodness—right from the shadows, even when he didn’t like what was happening. Your voice still matters. Your faith still speaks—especially when it’s weary.

Step 4: Choose Gratitude Even Here
“Be exalted, O God, above the heavens! Let your glory be over all the earth!” (Psalm 57:5)

David wasn’t rescued yet. He was still in the cave—but he chose to lift his eyes. Gratitude doesn’t mean pretending you’re okay. It means recognizing that even in the ache, God is still worthy. Gratitude is the kind of stubborn faith that keeps you breathing when nothing else makes sense.

Step 5: Remember What God’s Done
“They set a net for my steps; my soul was bowed down. They dug a pit in my way, but they have fallen into it themselves.” (Psalm 57:6)

David didn’t just cry out—he reminded himself that God had protected him before. And He would do it again. If you’re struggling to see the road ahead, look back and see your enemy still in the pit they dug for you. Remember the moments you thought you wouldn’t make it—and you did. Remember the strength you didn’t know you had. That same God is still with you now.

Be encouraged…
The dark cave isn’t forever.
You may not feel it, but the day will come when the light breaks through again. And while you wait—these steps can keep you grounded.
You don’t need to leap. You don’t have to fake joy.
But you can take a step. Just one.
And then another.

-Wake with intention.
-Let worship steady your heart.
-Speak your faith.
-Choose gratitude.
-Remember God’s faithfulness.

You can carry your grief and still walk in purpose.
You can honor your past and still step into your future.
You don’t have to do it alone—God is with you. And we are too.

Daniel Brooker

Founder, Refuge Widowers

The Weary World Rejoices

When life feels anything but perfect, remember this...

The Christmas story can feel so far removed from the reality of our lives. Softly lit nativity scenes and perfect paintings may tell one story, but the truth is far messier—and far more beautiful.

God chose to enter the world not in power and perfection but in humility and brokenness. His first crib was a feeding trough, born to a young unmarried couple, and announced to lowly shepherds on society’s margins. Jesus’ arrival wasn’t polished—it was raw, unexpected, and real.

This glimpse into the heart of God reveals something.

God doesn’t avoid our mess; He steps into it. He didn’t come to fix life as we imagine it should be—He came to redeem life as it is.

For those of us grieving this Christmas, let this truth sink in: God is not distant. He knows your pain, your weariness, and your longing. And yet, this is the very world He came to save.

Jesus didn’t shy away from hidden, humble places—He chose them. And that’s where He meets us, too.

Let the manger remind you this Christmas: Even in the struggle, there is hope. Even in the pain, there is a promise. A weary world rejoices—not because life is perfect, but because a Savior has come. And He’s not afraid to step into the mess with you.

Happy Mother’s Day, Bro

Today we recognize Mother’s Day...not the way we want to though…

 If we got what we wanted, we would be waking up early and sneak into the kitchen with the kids to make breakfast for her. We would watch her open her construction paper cards made by with crayons and folded construction paper. We would take 20 pictures to get that one she liked where all the kids were smiling and it got the good angle. We would tell her to go take nap while we took care of the kids…aka let them watch a movie to keep them quiet. 

Today isn’t what we wanted though…we don’t get to celebrate with cards and flowers and naps. So what can gift can we give to our person that isn’t here to open it? How do we honor her life and her love? Well we can give her the gift of deciding that we won’t waste her love by only crying and only being sad and only feeling less than whole. We can give her the gift of celebrating today to the best of our ability by loving and leading our kids that miss their mama better than we ever have. We can give her the gift of pointing our hearts towards the hope of Heaven that promises that we will one day be reunited and not empty handed for that much anticipated reunion. 

So as you go through your day, feel the sadness, acknowledge this day hurts and it’s hard. But remember that you can still give Mother’s Day gifts that she will love. 

Happy Mother’s Day, Bro…with you and for you!

To The Widower on Father’s Day

Father’s Day is almost here, but I’m guessing its shadow has been creeping into your thoughts over the past few days, if not weeks. By now, you’ve probably seen the ads on social media for that new fishing shirt, walked past the grills on display at Costco, or maybe even noticed a sale on the New Balance dad shoes that are arguably in style for now. For guys like us, though, the brutal reminder that Father’s Day brings cancels out any gift you could possibly open on that day.

The fact is, your wife isn’t here anymore to buy those gifts or remind the kids to make a homemade card for you, and you probably don’t see any way this salt-in-the-wound kind of day could be a good day again.

You’re a widower now, so the thought of Father’s Day is probably messing with you emotionally. You’re not weak or unhealed if you feel this way; you’re normal. But what if I told you that you can actually look forward to Father’s Day? Hear me out…

The most precious gift your wife ever gave you is your kid(s). Whether they’re a blend of you and your wife’s personalities, looks, mannerisms, and talents, or they came into your family through adoption, they are your greatest treasure. You have been trusted with loving, leading, and raising these gifts in a way that would make your wife proud. Remember, she chose YOU.

Your children are learning from you how to carry grief, and you have a choice in what you show them:

Option A: Stuff grief like a rock in a backpack that no one sees but constantly weighs you down.

Option B: Wear grief like a label on your forehead that everyone sees and struggles to look past.

Option C: Wear grief like a smart watch that reveals what’s going on inside so you can adjust your pace and seek help if needed.

Grief brings everything to the surface and offers you a chance to address it. If grief brings up unforgiveness, anger, and resentment, at least you know what you’re dealing with. You can choose to stuff them, show them, or sort through them. Whichever option you choose, your kids will likely imitate your healing or your hurt.

More importantly, grief should remind us that we can’t survive this in our own strength. Our grit is no match for God’s grace. Our only real chance of joy and hope, unchanged by our circumstances, comes from God. Heaven gives us the boldness to proclaim that each day brings us closer to being reunited with our loved one. Until that reunion, we get God’s nearness, helping our broken heart beat and carry on with the work we have left to do.

This Father’s Day, take comfort in Psalm 62:7: “…my refuge is God.” And take heart in your calling to love and lead your kid(s) well. The journey is intense, but keep fixing your eyes on Jesus…generations to come will be blessed by your faithfulness.

Happy Father’s Day, brother…may it be your most life-changing one yet.