Every one of us will encounter that moment—a moment of shattering that draws a sharp line through our lives, splitting everything into “before” and “after.” We carry these moments, sometimes silently, wondering if anyone else could possibly understand the weight. In The Girl on the Bathroom Floor, Amber Smith and her husband, former country music star Granger Smith, sat in the weight of the shattered when the unimaginable happened to their family. There followed loving friends, neighbors, and strangers who sought to express support, but struggled to find the right words. Today, Amber will help us navigate the delicate task of supporting someone in grief, offering guidance on finding the words that comfort and heal. It’s a joy to welcome Amber to the farm’s table today…
Guest Post by Amber Smith
Six years ago, my life was upended when I lost my 3-year-old son, River, to drowning.
A year later, I miscarried another little boy.
These tragedies left me broken, soaked in my own tears on my bathroom floor, crying out to God, wondering where He was in a world so full of pain and suffering.
When you walk through deep grief, people usually respond in one of two ways.
Some stay silent, unsure of how to enter that dark space, afraid that anything they say might make it worse. But, that silence can sometimes cut even deeper than words.
Others come with the best intentions, offering encouragement, but their words can often land like salt on an already gaping wound.
I think most of us, when we see someone in pain, want to help. We want to fix it. I’ve been that person, fumbling for words, afraid of saying the wrong thing, hoping to fill the ache with something that might bring hope. But sadly, many things in this broken world can’t be “fixed,” and quick pithy phrases can unintentionally make the pain heavier.
1. “Everything happens for a reason.”
In the rawness of grief, reason doesn’t comfort. It can feel like the loss is being rationalized instead of mourned. When my son died, I didn’t want to hear there was a reason. I just wanted my son back.
2. Any “At least…”
“At least you have other kids.”
“At least he didn’t suffer.”
“At least you’re young; you can try again.”
These phrases aim for a silver lining but usually land as dismissal or “one uppers” when others compare what they have been through with your trials.
3. “God needed another angel.”
God doesn’t take our loved ones because He’s short-staffed in heaven. Saying things like this can distort God’s character and confuse the griever.
In the years since my own bathroom floor season, I’ve learned that grief doesn’t need quick fixes or answers.
Grief needs presence.
It needs compassion.
It needs validation and permission.
“I’ve learned that grief doesn’t need quick fixes or answers. Grief needs presence. It needs compassion. It needs validation and permission.“
Validation that this is really hard. Permission to feel everything. Permission to be angry or cry. Permission to doubt and wrestle, to take time, to remember. Permission to sit in the suck for a while.
We live in a world full of pain. Global tragedies, quiet, daily personal losses, and sudden storms touch everyone around us. Suffering is something we all share this side of heaven. Recently, my home state of Texas experienced devastating floods. Families are mourning the loss of loved ones. Communities are shattered. And many of us are asking:
What can I do? What can I say? How can I help?
I created a free resource called “Say This, Not That” — a simple, grace-filled guide for people who want to help but don’t know how. It offers alternative phrases that meet hurting people where they are, not where we wish they were. Instead of saying “at least,” say “I’m so sorry you’re walking through this.” Instead of giving advice, simply say, “I’m here. I love you.”
Show up and sit in the silence.
Drop off a meal.
Send a text of love not expecting a response.
Don’t try to fix it. Just be present and weep with those who weep.
“In my darkest season, the words that helped most were not the ones that explained away my pain—they were the ones that acknowledged it.”
In my darkest season, the words that helped most were not the ones that explained away my pain—they were the ones that acknowledged it.
Words that held space and said:
“I hate that you are going through this. You are not alone. Feel what you need to feel. I’ll be here with you. Words like –
“I’m thinking of River today.”
(Use their loved one’s name. We love to talk about them.)
Nothing is sweeter to a grieving heart than hearing their loved one remembered.
“I don’t know what to say, but I love you.”
Honest. Present. Enough.
Admitting we don’t have answers is sometimes the most compassionate thing we can do.
Share a memory or a story
“I’ll never forget River picking dandelions for you.”
“I remember how his smile lit up the room.”
Stories remind the grieving that their loved one’s life left a mark.
Offer specific, tangible help
Instead of, “Let me know if you need anything,” try:
“I can bring dinner Tuesday—do you want Mexican, pizza, or subs?”
“I’m at the store; what can I grab for you? I’ll leave it at your door so you don’t have to talk.”
“Can I take the kids for a few hours so you can rest?”
Maybe someone in your life is on their own bathroom floor right now.
“Grief needs space before it needs solutions. Show up. Say less. Love more.”
The most Christlike thing you can do is simply sit with them—no fixing, no preaching, just presence.
Grief needs space before it needs solutions. Show up. Say less. Love more.
And when the time is right, then we gently point them to Jesus—the Living Hope who promises that sorrow will not have the final word.
If I could go back to that girl on the bathroom floor, I wouldn’t give her a reason or a silver lining.
I’d hold her hand and whisper, “This is hard. You are loved. And one day, you will rise and there will be light again. But for now, I’m here.”
AND! We have a little surprise for you all!
Can you believe this happened?
Amber Emily Smith is a Christ follower, wife, mother, speaker, and philanthropist. She and her husband, Granger, live on a small farm in central Texas with their three children—London, Lincoln, and Maverick—while their precious son River now lives with Jesus. Amber is the founder of the River Kelly Foundation, hosts the Arise with Amber podcast, and faithfully serves in her local church. Find out more at arisewithamber.com.
In The Girl on the Bathroom Floor, Amber shares the story of her deepest heartbreak and the unexpected beauty that rose from it.
This book isn’t a step-by-step guide to healing. It’s an invitation to sit with someone who’s been there. To cry, lament, and hope again, trusting that even in the darkest valley, God is still good and you are not alone.
{Our humble thanks to Thomas Nelson for their partnership in today’s devotional.}
