God Is in All of It: A Story of Grief, Faith, and What I Couldn’t Ignore
- Dionne Joyner-Weems
- 5 hours ago
- 6 min read
My father had a cough.Something simple. Something we thought could be handled with over-the-counter medicine.
But it wasn’t a cold.
It was the flu that turned into myocarditis, which attacked his heart, his kidneys, and his lungs.
And just like that, my father was in the Shock Trauma unit at the University of Maryland, fighting for his life.
The hospital that transferred us told us not to expect him to wake up.
But those doctors didn’t know my God.
And over the next two and a half weeks, my father fought.
And I did too.
What I didn’t know then was that God was already surrounding me.
In real time… I was just trying to hold it all together.
As the firstborn, something in me shifted. I wasn’t just a daughter—I became an advocate. A translator. A protector. I was standing toe-to-toe with some of the most elite doctors, tracking every detail of his care, asking questions I didn’t even know I knew how to ask.
It was exhausting.
And if I’m honest… I had very little comfort.
Except in the attic…
which had become the space that held me when nothing else could.
A few days later, my father came back to us.
Against all odds… he woke up.
And for two weeks, we prayed forward.
We focused on him coming home.
We believed.
And then…everything changed.
A blood clot.
From his leg… to his heart.
A heart that had already fought so hard to give him a second chance.
It didn’t have anything left.
And God called him home.
Later that day… an electrical rainstorm tore through Baltimore.
The lights went out.
This wasn’t just a power outage.
It was what it felt like when the most powerful energy source leaves your life.
God is in all of it.
After a week… I found myself back in the attic.
But this time… there was no hospital to go to.
No updates to give.
No role to play.
Just silence.
My body was home, but I wasn’t fully back in my life yet.
The attic had become my sanctuary.
My safe place.
The only place where I didn’t have to be anything for anyone.
Around that same time, my personal life was unraveling in ways I didn’t even have the capacity to process.
And one night, I turned on the TV.
And that’s when I found it.
A new series by Shonda Rhimes—The Residence.
And that’s where I met her.
Sheila.
I don’t even know how to fully explain it, but the moment I saw her, I felt my aunt Wendy.
Her fire. Her edge. Her complexity. Her softness wrapped in strength.
My aunt Wendy, who had passed just months before.
My aunt Wendy, who loved me like her baby doll.
My aunt Wendy, who never stopped being protective of me… even as I grew.
Watching Sheila felt like sitting with her again.
Laughing with her.
Being hugged by her.
And in a season where everything in my life felt like it was unraveling, that show became the one thing I looked forward to.
The one place I could exhale.
I didn’t call it that then.
But looking back…
God is in all of it.
When I finished the series… I cried.
Yes, it was a beautiful story.And, yes, I love a good mystery.
But deeper than that…
I cried because Sheila was gone.
And losing Sheila… felt like losing my aunt all over again.
And that loss… sat right next to losing my father.
It was all connected.
Grief on top of grief.
Layered.
Heavy.
But even in that…
I was grateful.
Grateful for the escape.
Grateful for the comfort.
Grateful that, somehow… I had been given something to hold onto in the middle of everything falling apart.
I didn’t fully understand it then.
But I understand it now.
God is in all of it.
The months after my father’s passing, there are no real words for them.
My heart… my soul… felt like they had been torn into pieces.
And yet… I was still here.
Moving.
Mothering.
Working.
Breathing.
And I knew then, like I know now… that wasn’t me.
That was the Holy Spirit carrying me.
I leaned on God in a way that wasn’t optional—it was necessary.
“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and of good courage. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.” Joshua 1:9 (NIV)
I repeated it constantly.
Not as a quote…but as a command.
A reminder.
A lifeline.
I kept my eyes on God the way Peter had to keep his eyes on Jesus on that water.
Because I knew… if I looked too long at everything I had lost…
I would sink.
And somewhere in that season…
My friend Gozi sent me something.
A video.
An interview.
A friend of her’s that she had been telling me about for months.
Edwina Findley Dickerson.
And when I saw her…I screamed.
Because that was Sheila.
The same woman who had been carrying me through my grief…through my quiet moments in the attic…
She was real.
I called Gozi immediately.
And we sat on the phone for hours.
Me telling her about my aunt Wendy.
About what that character meant to me.
About how Edwina… without ever knowing me… had been a source of comfort in the hardest season of my life.
Weeks later, a package arrived.
Gozi gifted me with Edwina’s book.
The World Is Waiting for You. Embrace Your Calling And Manifest The God Dream Over Your Life.
And when I started reading it…
I paused.
Because it didn’t feel like I was reading her words.
It felt like I was hearing something familiar.
Aligned.
Not in ego.
Not in comparison.
But in spirit.
So I got the audiobook.
And her voice became a companion.
In my car.
In my kitchen.
In my everyday life.
Holding me.
Guiding me.
Reminding me.
God is in all of it.
In February, as I approached one year since my father’s passing, my mother sent me a text.
“Your uncle passed…”
And I didn’t read the rest.
My body collapsed before my mind could catch up.
I fell to the floor.
Rigid.
Tears already falling before I knew I was crying.
My heart pounding in my ears.
An out-of-body experience.
Loss… all over again.
Until I looked closer.
“Your uncle passed out.”
Two words.
Different meaning.
But my body had already gone there.
That moment broke something open in me.
And I found myself… angry.
Not faithless.
But human.
I went to God the way Job did.
Honest.
Unfiltered.
I had been faithful.
And the hits kept coming.
And in that moment… like Elijah in the wilderness, I screamed—
“Just take me.”
And as soon as the words left my mouth, I knew that wasn’t my spirit.
But it was my flesh.
And it was real.
Two days later…
Gozi sent me a video.
Edwina Findley Dickerson.
Speaking directly to me.
Telling me… I was needed.
That my life mattered.
That I had purpose.
Gozi told me that as she stood there, crying at the outpouring of Edwina’s words, she didn’t fully understand why she was saying those specific things.
But I did.
Because God had heard me.
That wasn’t a coincidence.
That was confirmation.
That was God placing His hand on my shoulder and saying—
“I’m here. I am in all of it.”
Months later, I saw that Edwina would be speaking in Baltimore.
I wanted to go.
But I didn’t have the capacity to commit.
So I gave it to God.
“If it’s Your will… make a way.”
And He did.
Through Gozi.
Edwina had invited her… and Mrs. Debi… as her guests.
And she asked if they could bring me.
WHAT THE WHAAAT!?!?!?!
An invitation.
A seat in the room.
A hug.
A moment to say thank you.
There wasn’t time for a real conversation.
The room was full.
People waiting.
Moments moving quickly.
But I came prepared.
I placed a copy of my book in her hands.
That Part! What Some Know But Won’t Tell You About Motherhood.
And inside, I wrote:
Edwina,
There was a moment when I asked God if I should still be here.And days later, He answered me through you.Thank you for being obedient, for speaking life, and for reminding me, clearly, that the world is still waiting for me, too.
That Part,
Dionne Joyner-Weems
After leaving the event, I sat in my car to gather myself, and I saw I had a missed call from my mother.
I called her back.
Her voice sounded heavy, “Where have you been this morning?”
I pushed past the question because I could feel there was something much more pressing to discuss.
“What’s wrong, Mommy?” I asked expectantly.
“Dionne, your grandfather passed away this morning.”
I sat in silence.
My grandfather. My father’s father.
I wasn’t in shock… just aware.
My father left this earth unexpectedly. His father lived to see 93.
Still outside the event, in the same space where the woman who had carried me through my aunt’s passing, my father’s death, and the devastation of my personal life was present again…
as I received more news that would require me to lean on the God we both serve.
This moment was not coincidence.
It can’t be denied.
You can’t explain it away.
This was alignment.
This was divine.
Because…God is in all of it.
I’m sharing this because we are all connected.
I’m sharing this because God is always speaking—
through people,
through moments,
through things we don’t even realize are holding us together while we’re falling apart.
All I ask for… is the strength, the courage, and the wisdom to hear Him.
“You can’t capture God singularly—it’s in the moments of connection.”~ That Part!
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