Reflection

Not every ending is clean. Some things apart slowly, in pieces. Others unravel all at once, in the middle of the chapter, in the blink of an eye. Some endings are filled with words left unsaid, in feelings left unspoken; others with things you wish you hadn’t said at all, with things that hang heavy in your chest. When it’s over, when the final curtain has been closed on the journey, you’re not just holding the ache of what was lost — you’re carrying the weight of how it ended. The regret. The uncertainty. The shame. It’s easy to look back and wonder if the way certain things fell apart disqualifies you from moving forward. You think — if the ending wasn’t peaceful, maybe healing isn’t something you’re allowed to claim.

This is your reminder that God does not require closure to begin restoration, especially when it comes to matters of the heart.

He doesn’t need your pain to be neatly organized and smoothed out before he tends to it, before he holds it for you. His mercy does not hinge on how gently the story closed. His love doesn’t recoil when the chapter ends painfully. God comes close even in the mess. Even in the missteps, even in the misunderstandings, even in the moments you wish you could undo. He meets you when the narrative is complicated, when the roles aren’t easy to define, when the leaving was layered in grief. He does not ask for a polished ending. He simply asks for your open heart.

You are still allowed to heal — even if there were mistakes. Even if you stayed too long or left too soon. Even if the ending was loud or unclear or unfinished. Grace does not require you to rewrite the past, it invites you to surrender it. You don’t need to justify the pain to be worthy of comfort. You don’t need perfect resolution to step into peace.

Healing does not dismiss what conspired in your soul. It just refuses to let what broke you become the full definition of who you are. You are not the ache. You are not the wound. You are the one God is gently leading out of it.

Prayer

God, I don’t know how to hold this ending. It didn’t unfold the way I had hoped, and a part of me still wonders if that disqualifies me from healing. I want to trust that your mercy meets me even here — in the tension, in the regret, in the unanswered questions. Help me to release what I’ve been replaying in my heart. Help me to stop punishing myself for how I closed this chapter. Remind me that I am still worthy of peace. That I am still allowed to heal. That I am still held in your grace. 

Amen.