Halftime: Reflections on 2026 and the Road Ahead

Halftime thoughts.

Every year around the year’s midpoint, I find myself pausing long enough to evaluate where God has brought me and where He’s still leading me.

The first half of the year—especially these past three months—has been marked by much-needed growth, course correction, new opportunities, and genuine healing. Not the kind of healing that arrives overnight, but the kind you only recognize when you look over your shoulder and realize the arrow is finally pointing upward again. I’m grateful for that.

Much of this progress has come through a combination of what God has been asking me to lay down and what He has been faithfully replacing it with. As Paul reminds us, God’s grace is made perfect in weakness, not because weakness is desirable, but because it becomes the stage upon which His strength is displayed (2 Corinthians 12:9-10).

That doesn’t mean grief has disappeared.

In many ways, I still consider “the griever” because I am one. I remain a recovering bereaved parent learning how to faithfully navigate a world that often doesn’t know how to care for those carrying profound loss. Scripture tells us to “weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15), yet many people simply have never learned what that looks like in practice. They don’t intentionally neglect grieving people; they’re simply unequipped to enter pain they have never personally experienced.

For a grieving person, being understood carries tremendous emotional and relational value. As months and years pass, silence can begin to feel like abandonment. Invitations become fewer. Conversations become shorter. Friends move on with life while your world still feels permanently altered. Somewhere in the recesses of our minds, we begin wondering whether the relationship was ever as strong as we believed. Sometimes that conclusion is accurate. More often, it is simply the grief interpreting silence through wounded eyes.

One of the greatest lessons God has been teaching me is that misunderstanding does not automatically equal malice. Sometimes people aren’t withdrawing because they’ve stopped caring. They withdraw because they don’t know how to care. They fear saying the wrong thing, so they say nothing at all. Ironically, that silence often becomes the very thing that wounds us most.

Looking back, I believe one of the deepest forms of forgiveness is releasing people from the offense of misunderstanding you. Some of the harshest words ever spoken to me occurred during seasons when my autistic mind couldn’t fully process my own weakness while simultaneously navigating profound grief. There were moments when neither side truly understood the other. My pain was misunderstood, and their limitations were equally misunderstood by me.

The reality is that ignorance is unavoidable. If we’re living life together—raising families, serving in churches, investing in friendships—we’re all going to have moments of poor execution. We’ll say the wrong thing. We’ll say nothing. We’ll miss opportunities to show up. None of us perfectly reflects the compassion of Christ every single day. That’s why Paul exhorts believers to “bear with one another and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you” (Colossians 3:13).

I’ve come to believe that grief matures our understanding of care faster than almost anything else. By the time someone has walked through profound suffering, they’ve learned that presence often matters more than words, consistency matters more than grand gestures, and quiet companionship often ministers more deeply than carefully crafted advice. Our expectations of others naturally rise because our own understanding of compassion has deepened.

But this is where humility must temper wisdom.

Most people haven’t walked through the valleys we’ve walked through. Their capacity to care exists within the boundaries of their own experiences. They aren’t necessarily uncaring; they’re simply still growing. Just as we hope others will extend grace toward grief they cannot fully comprehend, grieving people must also extend grace toward those who are still maturing in their understanding of compassion.

That realization has changed how I read 2 Corinthians 1:3-4. Paul describes God as “the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble.” The comfort God gives us isn’t intended to terminate with us. It becomes the pattern through which we learn to comfort others. Sometimes that also means remembering that not everyone has yet received the same lessons suffering has taught us.

At the same time, grief cannot become an entitlement card. It cannot become permission to remain bitter toward a world that no longer understands us. Nor can it become an excuse to avoid relationships and settings simply because awkward conversations might happen. Bitterness feels protective, but it slowly becomes another prison. Scripture repeatedly calls us toward forgiveness, not because every offense is small, but because Christ has forgiven infinitely greater debts within us (Matthew 18:21-22; Ephesians 4:32).

Some people genuinely have abandoned you. Others have failed you. Some will never apologize. Some may never even recognize the hurt they caused. Those realities are painful, but they are not outside God’s ability to redeem. “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18). He sees every lonely moment that no one else noticed.

So let God deal with the abandoner and embrace the call to pray for them.

Release the hurt you’ve carried through the valleys and shadows. Don’t allow grief to collect resentment until bitterness disguises itself as conviction. That burden was never yours to carry forever.

If you’re faithfully pressing into Christ day after day, He will gradually give you the strength to surrender every source of hurt into His hands. Forgiveness rarely begins with strength; it begins with surrender. We forgive because we’ve first been forgiven. We extend grace because we’ve first received grace. And we continue moving forward because nothing—not grief, misunderstanding, abandonment, nor even death itself—can separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8:38-39).

Perhaps that is one of healing’s greatest milestones. Not when grief disappears, because it won’t this side of eternity, but when forgiveness quietly becomes greater than offense, hope becomes stronger than despair, and the arrow—by the grace of God—continues pointing upward.

Cover graphic creds: ChatGPT

Road to Healing: Why Even in Pain, There’s Still Jubilee

It’s been three years to the day since Juju’s death.

For better and worse, Lys and I haven’t been the same since that fateful day. While grief intensity has lessened, life still feels like a tightrope. One false step and we’re praying for a safety net, just trying to survive – like when Juju was alive only without the hope of tomorrow. If only I were better at patience, maybe this whole waiting thing would be easier.

As Juju proved during her NICU tenure, progression and regression aren’t always mutually exclusive. At times within her fragile body, one element was improving while another was degrading. Her recovery and, at times, lack thereof, was anything but a linear wave. Like life itself, her journey was a winding roller coaster with unexpected turns and unprecedented breakthroughs. Her butterfly tattoo on my heart, not a day goes by that I don’t think of her and consider the glory of what she constantly experiences.

Yet, though the tears have remained mostly at bay the past year, there’s still a temptation to anger. God, why didn’t you somehow, someway cap her suffering? If you knew she was going to barely make it past a year, why defer the inevitable?

In most cases, I can convert those ‘whys’ into ‘look what God did’ and carry on. Where I stumble is the next level down: God, why aren’t people more naturally geared towards the broken-hearted? Why does the silence sometimes increase when it needs to decrease? In the shadows, you were there after Juju’s death. What about those who may not even be able to find you at all? What about them?

These questions have been raised before, and they’ll be raised again. Until the answers come, I, along with the rest of us, must settle in Christ (1 Peter 5:10; Colossians 2:6-7). For those who have lost a child, we don’t have any other option. At day’s end, everyone has a call to embrace their suffering and ditch their baggage. No exceptions. I know for me, sometimes I get into trouble tolerating the baggage while trying to ditch the suffering in a quest to find meaning in pain; however, in times of reset, I catch myself in the striving and commit my ways to God whether I feel like it. It’s hard as heck, don’t get me wrong. I just know as low as I feel sometimes, I’m only hindering my perspective when I punt prayer and vertical reliance.

I love how Paul opens Colossians 3:1: “Therefore if you have been raised with Christ, keep seeking the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God.”

For starters, the chapter unpacks our ‘new self’ identity as a garment we can wear regardless of the day. But even more promising, we’re reminded in the intro how we’ve been raised with Christ to a new life, sharing in His resurrection from the dead. In a weird way, this hits home even more so these days. Even when I feel dead on the inside, somehow, I know I’m that much closer to the type of life I crave. Among all the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God is also my daughter. Your son. His grandson. Her granddaughter. Their mother, their father, our friend, etc.

The way God’s lap is designed, there is always a comfort and rest to draw from, even if it’s simply His presence and nothing more.

The problem is we’re not often content with the safety of God’s nearness because we’re dissatisfied with the security of it. Our kid passed away, so we doubt if God is who says He is. If God is a God of love, then why didn’t His sovereignty meet my faith in the middle? If God has the capability, why didn’t His power take pity on a soul that could have done wonders for Him if given the opportunity?

While I’m not condoning this as the correct posture to take, admittingly, this is a popular contention bereaved parents wrestle through. We desire the improbable; we believe in the impossible. We just wish it could have looked a certain way. And that’s okay…assuming we regularly surrender our grief, anxiety, fear, and anger. As Juju reminds us, there’s beauty to be found in the ashes of our sorrow, especially when we reframe our perspective to see a life well fought as an altar pointing people to Jesus. Our lives may always sound like a sad song, but that doesn’t mean what other people hear is the same tenor.

Trust me, life has been brutal, dare I say, savage, this decade. Despite the positive turn in recent years, my debates with God are still on the regular.

Dear Lord, thank you for what you did during Juju’s life and gifting my family with this incredible light, this testimony unfolding, but surely you know what it’s like to grieve. You know what it’s like to be separated from your only begotten Son. If you’re stripping me of anything my life could cling to other than you, so be it. I don’t have to know how you’re exalted in those moments as long you’re exalted at all. And with a daughter dancing in your courts, I dare not lose sight of the new life I have in Christ, knowing that’s exactly what she has.

For all you readers and co-sufferers out there, ask yourself: Will I be too stubborn in my grief to don new garments of praise? To serve and think within new wineskins? Or am I too scared to endure because I don’t want God to let me down again? I know for me, I don’t have the margin, nor do I want to give that question room to manifest. Thus, I will keep looking up and pressing on one step at a time, with Juju’s rays forever on the horizon. The victory’s been won. Let’s choose to walk it in. God, show us the way…

Selah.

A Time for Sorrow: The Beauty of Lament

I don’t have much to say today. Based on this post’s time stamp, you can deduce how sleep…just isn’t easy on September 18. Perhaps rightfully so.

That said, I want to set a friendly reminder to all who believe and profess the name of Jesus to stay intentional in making room for Him. As recent Mercy devos have reminded me, there’s a sweetness in meeting Christ in the incarnation, delighting in His Immanuel presence, and declaring His Hosanna. All day, every day, He’s in the business of being with us, His arm never too short to save and settle what we’re meant to cast upon Him.

For me and the fam, we will be visiting a couple places today to remember Juju in a way that allows lamentation to become celebration. For those wrestling with grief, we must understand both realities have their place and must be entered into with expectancy. When we lament in the Biblical sense, we’re not only emptying ourselves before God in vulnerability but surrendering to His Lordship in confidence.

Applied to the road, think of lamentation as the slow-down before the yield. To drive defensively in this situation, one must prepare the car’s direction by first adjusting the speed necessary for it to align to the proper course. In many ways, this is how we should view the heart when we’re asking God for help, relief, even salvation. When in doubt, slow down, anticipate the yield, and invite God into your space.

Once your inner man is at the right speed, sound out your gratitude and heartache in praise knowing there will be glory after this. To me, this is the beauty of lamentation given it’s almost always the first or second leg in our immediate journey to refreshment and release. Although it’s never a straight line, you can count on it as a bee-line to the Father’s heart of love.

In due time, some media will emerge as snapshots on the wall of a day done well; however, if you’re reading this, you now know the framework, the ‘why’ if you will. Wherever you’re at, whatever you’re going through, understand lamentation is more than the expression of sorrow meets honesty, but a key way we say ‘yes’ to God as we make room for Him. Be encouraged to go and do likewise.

Selah.

Cover photo creds: Beth Barthelemy

The Prodigal’s Wardrobe: Why the Bling Matters

Written 3/21/16; revised 5/16/24

So last week, I’m revisiting the prodigal parable when it dawns on me: Before there could be a party (v. Luke 15:23) for the son, there first had to be ‘fashion statement’ (v. 22), an opportunity for him to know why he was being celebrated.

Like others, my last read through of Luke 15 wasn’t the first time in which I visualized the father decking his son with boughs of jolly. To be honest, I used to skim over this part as a side detail. ‘Nice! The dad is thrilled his son is back,’ I’d think to myself.

But having marinated in this passage further, I can’t help but wonder if this excerpt is the most profound part of the entire story.

For starters, not only does the passage highlight a daily reality of God’s father-heart of love, but it also emphasizes the progression of God’s ministry of reconciliation, a progression as follows:

  1. God’s confirmation of our identity
  2. God’s admittance of ‘as we are’ in light of who we are
  3. God’s celebration of #1 + #2

Per the list above, part of the revelation for me lies in how easily we skip from #1 to #3 when reading the parable. We remember the father’s compassion (v. 20) and the party he throws (v. 23), yet we forget how the father loved on purpose in between as evidenced by his desire to adorn his son with specific garments:

  • The robe representing a fresh outpouring of grace…
  • The ring representing a symbol of sonship and authority…
  • The sandals representing a charge for the son to walk afresh and anew (under both coverings)…

…pretty remarkable, right?

Clearly, the father wasn’t content on just running to embrace his son.

Was he overjoyed? Of course! Was he relieved? Absolutely.

However, as much as the father wanted to welcome his son, he wanted even more so to establish him into a renewed sense of identity, place, and purpose! Accordingly, one has much to gain connecting the parable to real life.

‘Cause truth is: We’re ALL prodigals in some capacity. We’ve all stumbled into rough places and tough times at one point or another. We’ve all encountered rude awakenings involving unexpected setbacks, and in some cases, our own depravity.

Yet, when we receive the power of this parable, we ultimately discover how the story doesn’t end with God forgiving us. In fact, it’s only the beginning!

For even in the wake of our setbacks, our Papa God never stops seeking a way to reconcile us as heirs with an inheritance (Romans 8:17), as anointed children blessed with a destiny. Put another way, God always has a party invitation with your name on it secured in an envelope sealed with grace. And while you’re not forced to open it, if you decide to, you’ll not only find directions, but also information on how to prepare for it. How awesome is that?

The next time you’re tempted to mentally wallow with the pigs, remember God isn’t satisfied to slap an “I forgive you” onto your wrongdoings, your past hurts and failures, and call it a day.

Moreover, God wants to remind you…

…your identity is not lost…
…your place at the table is unclaimed…
…and oh, by the way, when you choose to change, heaven celebrates. Like a good neighbor, He’ll not only help you arrive at a better place, He, by His Spirit, will help you stay there, too.

My encouragement to you today is to claim the robe, the ring, and the sandals, put on the garments of praise (Isaiah 61:3), and live knowing you’ve been fully reinstated into wholeness with God. Sure, there may be days when your self-perception seems hopelessly chained to dark, dreary memories, but that doesn’t mean there’s not a way to walk in your sonship!

For me, whenever I find myself in that taxing tug-of-war, I…

  1. Confess I’ve been forgiven and set free…
  2. I declare my identity as a mighty man/son of God…
  3. Recommit my ways unto the Lord. 

Abiding by this pathway, I affirm God’s confirmation, admittance, and celebration of who I am and *wallah*…God’s mission of reconciliation is complete in that moment.

Well, folks, I’m out of words today. As always, if you need prayer, a word of encouragement, a dose of stimulating dialogue, Lys and I are here.

‘Til next time, stay thirsty, my friends…

Selah.

Cover graphic creds: Dr. Eltan Bar

Year in Review: A Look Back at 2023

Thursday, August 24, 2023

I’m taking in a familiar scene, a road once trudged 1,934 times over 7 years, give or take a few. By all means, I should be feeling nauseous, frail like the cracks on the sidewalk below.

But not this day. Not on this quest back to the desert where once upon a time, I punched in a rare card. Oh, to be a youth pastor with a full-time governmental job on the side. Those were the days, the former, I miss fondly. 

In the air is the smell of victory as I trek this iconic incline disguised as an inverted hourglass. An interview? With the State? No way you could have convinced me a year ago I would be in that situation. Then again, as they say, expect the unexpected and you’ll never be surprised or disappointed. Tell that to a desperate hunter living on a prayer wondering how the heck it came to this.

Indeed, to tell the tale of 2023, you must go back to the beginning, a point when red flags were yellow and the hope for a better year was still alive. A promotion to a new department at work. Check. A fresh slate post-Jubilee. Check. Hot off a fruitful Christmas NICU outreach. Check. Certainly, some anticipations were well founded.

Yet, despite those hopeful prospects, there were apprehensions as the new year rang, the biggest one being our final small Fry in the oven with no one aware except Lys’ parents. In a vacuum, there was excitement, a recognition of God’s restoration at work. Still, we knew despite my promotion at work, it wasn’t going to be enough to make ends meet based on a poorly reshuffled financial deck and a lack of quality benefits. TennCare, the system is helpful but doesn’t cover everything. Somehow, some way, God was going to have to do what only He could.

Freshly commissioned by my former team of three years, early expectations were high the year ahead could be both a collective step up. Unfortunately, the writing on the wall would start to show in light of questionable corporate decisions, enough to know what was now becoming clear: 2023 was going to be my last year at Foundation Group, shades of four years prior when God guided me out of TDOT. I didn’t know how the transition would occur. All I knew is like the ending scene from Mary Poppins, the weather vane within had completed turned. Slowly but surely, a piece of me was starting to fade.

With the kids in school to start the year (shout out to Greater Things), Lys and I had to pull out all the stops to make ends meet. We started with one freelancing side hustle (lost to AI in May) and a few ministerial endeavors on the board; however, they were not enough to offset the support cutoff that took place following Jubilee’s passing. For the first time in our married life, we had to find creative means from the bottom of the barrel to stitch paychecks together. This included eight BioLife Plasma appointments between December 8, 2022 and January 19, 2023, the latter of which prompted my donation retirement having almost passed out due to blood loss. Freak plasma accidents, they can be a bear in a [matter] of speaking. 😉 

The following week, I started an eBay store to offload sports cards, memorabilia, and apparel I didn’t need. While gross sales were much higher than expected the first 4-5 months, the operation only served to connect weekly financial dots and did little to help us pull equity out of our home.  On the verge of bankruptcy only months before Aili’s arrival, Lys and I had no choice but to pray and pray often for open doors. In our hearts, we knew provision would come. We just didn’t know how the details and timelines would shape out.

As winter gave way to spring, our family received a generous offer to visit Port Saint Joe, Florida for our first full family vacation. During our time away, Lys and I were able to celebrate our 10-year wedding anniversary while the kids enjoyed their inaugural beach debut.

In terms of broader stretches, the late March to early May time frame was notable for two occurrences:

1) On March 27, The Gate Church hosted my dad’s 50 Years of Ministry Celebration in what was truly a special night for our family.

2) From March 21 – May 9, Lys and I participated in a grief support group at Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital in what would become a defining sequence for the rest of the year. Despite the proximity to where Jubilee died, we felt at home with our new friends, some of whom we still keep in contact with. As only the second bereaved parent support group in Vanderbilt’s history, our cohort proved to be an enlightening experience for several nurses on staff. From what we understand, more support groups are expected to launch in 2024 for those who endured Jubilee journeys of their own.

Like April, June was a meaningful month, albeit for different reasons. In a top three memory of the year, Lys and I took a weekend away to Moscow, Tennessee, to participate in a While We’re Waiting Retreat for bereaved parents. Like the Vanderbilt support group, the event would feature a balanced blend of community, healing, and direct support, essentials we desperately needed and weren’t finding anywhere else at the time. The empowerment and activation from the weekend would not only result in more friends but a guest appearance on the While We’re Waiting podcast in October and eventual board approval to start the first middle Tennessee chapter for the 2024 calendar year.

Apart from support groups, the dominant storylines heading into July were Lyssah’s pregnancy (by far the smoothest of all five kids), leading more Zoom calls with the Circuit Riders, and the job hunt reaching a fever pitch. Among the 200 applications sent on Indeed and LinkedIn between July-October 2023, roughly 8-10 resulted in fruitful networking including a pipeline for Foundation Group that specialized in not-for-profits. 

Of course, the ultimate Fry-light would occur Friday, July 28, the day on which Aili was born. Although her earthly entrance doesn’t offset the incompleteness Lys and I feel, the wonder of God’s faithfulness as evident through the moment struck a victorious nerve in the context of God’s sovereignty and our testimony unfolding. Literal beauty from ashes (Isaiah 61:3), Aili’s arrival was more than cathartic but a sweet reminder to praise God for the way He ministers encouragement and comfort to the brokenhearted. Like a gift that keeps on giving, Aili continues to warm our hearts through smiles and reflections of divine providence. Even in the wake of last year’s tragedy, the surrealness of her presence has, no question, bonded our family together in greater measure.

Fast-forward to November 7 and the job search finally concluded after five months of persistent effort. Honestly, I will never forget the call I received from Mercy Multiplied during which they confirmed an offer for me to become their Accounting Manager, instantly justifying God’s call from January and the many closed doors that preceded in the months following. To think my application came in one day before the position was pulled from online job boards blows my mind – just another example of how God is faithful to guide and provide especially in the clutch. Since then, I’ve been able to find footing in a healthier environment working for Nancy Alcorn and her Finance team. No doubt, the experience, highlighted by the Merry Mercy 40th Anniversary Celebration earlier this month, has been a breath of fresh air. 

And so, as the sun sets on 2023, I bid it adieu and relish the opportunity to start afresh and anew. Occasionally, I think back to that day in January, the one BioLife missed the vein, and how it triggered a resonating desire for the look of life to change in every facet outside immediate family and friends; however, I also remember praying, ‘Lord, even if these changes don’t happen, even if I feel like I’m sinking at the end of the year, give me healthy wife/healthy baby and I will gladly take it‘. Safe to say that request accrued dividend and interest as Aili, and her older sibling trio continue to mature in stature with Lys making progress towards 2020 levels of health.

Still, even with the advances of late, the hurts linger. Moving on is hard; adjusting to life post-Juby (while we’re gettin’ there) is hard; learning your youngest son is auti..ahem…neurodivergent…is hard; employing financial wisdom is hard; not feeling seeded in crucial areas…you guessed it…is hard. Then again, life was never meant to be easy and I’m quickly reminded how we can do all things through Christ who strengthens us even when we feel alone, disappointed, unheard, misunderstood, even neglected. Hence, why Lys and I are not discouraged to the point of wavering despite 2023 going down as the roughest year since 2011. For as 2021 and 2022 taught us…

…clinging to hope at the end of your rope is not just a hell to pass through but a hotspot to discover God’s love amidst the endurance.

Thus, while 2023 felt like navigating a pothole-laden highway, we can give testament to God as a solid foundation amidst the voids. Despite the adversities, I give Him all the praise for how he’s helped me put the family on my back and carry them through streams of troubled water this year. 

To new faces and friendly spaces, we thank you for being valued connections in life and as part of our support network. To those on the other side, we thank you as well for your part in making us stronger. Just as without suffering and chaos, there cannot be compassion and peace, so too we cannot grow stronger without deficits and prompts to overcome. Accordingly, we can be grateful for the situations that awaken us to draw closer to Jesus regardless of the specifics involved. Granted, we understand many of you reading this have sowed refreshment and have extended goodwill to many during the past few years. For that, we share our warmest regards and wish you nothing but God’s best this holiday season.

May you all be blessed and enriched with the grandeur of His highest,

~ Cameron (and Lyssah) Fry

Prayer Points (in no particular order)

  1. Favor with Cameron’s new job at Mercy Multiplied
  2. Favor with the launch of the While We’re Waiting Nashville small group
  3. Ministerial direction (i.e. knowing where God wants to plant us in 2024) 
  4. Mentoring/networking opportunities (i.e. knowing who we’re to team with/invest relationally)
  5. New work opportunities for Lyssah (remote or hybrid)
  6. Family health/Milo’s occupational therapy
  7. Progress with Cameron’s Jubilee Journey book and a jumpstart of the His Girl Fryday podcast
  8. Continued healing and recovery post-Jubilee

Cover graphic creds: Vecteezy