Sunrise over soft blue hills, for an article on self care when grieving

Arise and eat: gentle self care when you’re grieving

Nobody puts “eat lunch” on the list after a funeral.

There’s a list for everything else. The death certificates. The bank. The insurance. The thank you notes. The closet nobody wants to open.

But nobody writes down drink a glass of water. Or go to bed before midnight. Or take your blood pressure pill.

So maybe you’ve been living on coffee and whatever’s in the pantry. Maybe you can’t remember the last time you sat down to a real meal. Maybe you’ve skipped your own doctor’s appointment, because for months your whole life revolved around someone else’s.

I wonder how many grieving people are quietly running on empty and calling it “keeping busy.”

If that’s you, I’m not here to scold you. I’m here to tell you something that might surprise you. Taking care of your body right now isn’t selfish. It’s one of the most spiritual things you can do.

Grief is hard on the body

We usually think of grief as something that happens in the heart. And it does. But it happens in the body too.

When you lose someone you love, your body goes into a kind of emergency mode. Stress hormones stay high. Appetite disappears, or it swings the other way. Sleep breaks into pieces. You get every cold that goes around.

What the research shows. Healthline’s overview of grief’s physical symptoms points to studies linking bereavement to higher inflammation, a weaker immune response, and strain on the heart. It notes that “Grief can also raise the risk of chest pain, possibly from the release of cortisol, the stress hormone.” (Healthline)

That isn’t meant to frighten you. It’s meant to help you understand why you feel so worn down. You’re not lazy. You’re not weak. Your body is carrying a heavy load, and it needs more care than usual, not less.

That’s why grief counselors talk so much about the basics. Food. Water. Sleep. A little movement. A doctor who knows what you’re going through. They’re not glamorous. They’re foundational.

Keep reading: Three in the morning: when grief keeps you awake

A prophet under a broom tree

There’s a story in the Bible I wish more grieving people knew.

Elijah was a prophet. Strong. Bold. He had just seen God answer his prayer with fire from heaven on Mount Carmel. It was the high point of his life.

And then, almost overnight, everything collapsed. The queen threatened to kill him. He ran for his life, far into the wilderness, alone.

Here’s where we find him:

“But he himself went a day’s journey into the wilderness and came and sat down under a broom tree. And he asked that he might die, saying, ‘It is enough; now, O LORD, take away my life, for I am no better than my fathers.'” 1 Kings 19:4 (ESV)

It is enough. I think a lot of grieving people know that feeling. Not necessarily wanting to die, but being so tired you don’t know how to keep going. Done. Empty. Out of strength.

Now watch what God does. This is the part I love.

“And he lay down and slept under a broom tree. And behold, an angel touched him and said to him, ‘Arise and eat.'” 1 Kings 19:5 (ESV)

He didn’t lecture Elijah. He didn’t quote a verse at him or tell him to have more faith. He didn’t even talk about the problem yet.

He let him sleep. Then He woke him gently, with a touch. And He fed him.

The next verse tells us there was bread baked on hot stones and a jar of water right by his head. Elijah ate, drank, and lay back down. Then it happened again:

“And the angel of the LORD came again a second time and touched him and said, ‘Arise and eat, for the journey is too great for you.'” 1 Kings 19:7 (ESV)

The journey is too great for you

Read that line again slowly. The journey is too great for you.

Those aren’t harsh words. They’re kind ones. God wasn’t saying, “You’re not strong enough.” He was saying, “I know how hard this is. You can’t do it on an empty stomach. Let Me take care of you first.”

Grief is a long journey. Longer than most people expect. And God knows it’s too much to walk on no sleep, no food, and no rest.

Notice the order, too. Rest and food came first. The deep conversation with God came later, after Elijah had strength. Verse 8 says “he arose and ate and drank, and went in the strength of that food forty days and forty nights to Horeb, the mount of God.”

Sometimes we think the spiritual answer to grief is to pray harder or read more. Those things matter. But sometimes the most faithful thing you can do today is eat a real meal and take a nap.

God made your body. He cares about it. Jesus fed hungry crowds. After He rose from the dead, He made breakfast on the beach for His tired friends. He’s never been embarrassed by our need for food and rest.

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What self care when grieving really looks like

Self care when grieving doesn’t mean spa days or expensive retreats. Most days it looks a lot more like what the angel did for Elijah. Small. Simple. Repeated. Self care when grieving isn’t selfish. It’s how you keep going.

Eat something, even if it’s small. You don’t have to cook a big dinner. A piece of toast. A banana. A cup of soup. If your appetite is gone, try eating a little at regular times anyway, the way you’d feed someone you love.

Drink water. Grief and tears dehydrate you more than you’d think. Keep a glass where you’ll see it.

Rest without guilt. If you need a nap, take it. Elijah slept twice before God asked him a single question.

Move a little. A short walk around the block or out to the mailbox. Movement helps your body work through stress, and fresh air does more than we give it credit for.

Keep your own appointments. If you spent months caring for someone else, it’s easy to forget yourself. Call your doctor. Tell them about your loss. They need to know.

Let someone bring the bread. Elijah didn’t bake that bread himself. Someone else provided it. When a friend offers a meal, maybe the best thing you can say is yes.

Keep reading: Let them carry it: how to accept help when you’re grieving

You’re worth caring for

Somewhere along the way, a lot of us picked up the idea that caring for ourselves is selfish. Especially if we spent years caring for everyone else.

But you are someone God cares for. He touched a worn out prophet under a tree and fed him. He hasn’t changed. He sees you at your kitchen table too.

You don’t have to earn that care. You don’t have to be strong enough or faithful enough first. That’s what grace is. God meeting you where you are, with exactly what you need.

If you’re not sure where you stand with God right now, that’s okay. You’re welcome here, questions and all. If you’ve ever wondered what it would mean to know Jesus personally, I’d love to share more with you here.

Keep reading: When everyone goes home: grief after the funeral

Something to try today

Pick one thing from the list above. Just one. Maybe it’s eating breakfast. Maybe it’s a ten minute walk. Maybe it’s finally calling the doctor. This is what self care when grieving can look like today.

Then, before you do it, you might pray something like this:

Lord, I’m tired, and this journey feels too great for me. Thank You for caring about my body, not just my soul. Help me take one small step today to look after what You gave me. Amen.

That’s it. One small thing. Tomorrow you can pick another.

The angel didn’t ask Elijah to climb the mountain that first day. He just said, arise and eat.

You can start there too.

Blessings,

Pastor Howard

What’s one small way you’ve taken care of yourself since your loss, or one thing someone did for you that helped? Tell me in the comments below. I read every comment, and your words might help someone else take a small step today.

About the author, Howard Smith

As an ordained pastor, Howard has witnessed profound human experiences of loss across many different life circumstances.

What he has consistently observed is this: people often feel completely unprepared for the emotional landscape of loss.

Grief is like a complex language nobody teaches you, yet everyone somehow expects you to become fluent overnight.

Years ago, Howard began leading support groups designed to help people navigate the intricate terrain of loss.

By combining psychological insights with spiritual principles, and by reading scientific studies on how grief affects us mentally, physically, and spiritually, he has created spaces where people can understand that their pain is valid, their journey is unique, and healing is possible.

Now, through teaching, writing, and community building, he is committed to offering a compassionate roadmap for anyone experiencing significant loss.

His goal is to help people not just survive their grief, but eventually rediscover hope, meaning, and the possibility of joy.

Grief isn't about forgetting. It's about learning to carry love forward while gradually creating space for new experiences and emotions.

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