Healing doesn’t happen overnight, and it’s not something that arrives with fireworks. It sneaks up on you—kind of like when you misplace your keys, only to realize they’ve been in your hand the whole time.
It’s a destination you reach over time. At some point, I wasn’t even thinking about the journey, and then—bam!—I was there. Healed. Walking in forgiveness, freedom, and all those other things that make you feel like a functioning adult. Joy, patience, humility… you get the picture.
But healing isn’t this big emotional experience. It’s the lack of emotion—the absence of bitterness, anger, and that soul-sucking sorrow. You know, the kind that used to park rent-free in your heart like it owned the place.
It's like realizing you no longer care about that old wound. Not in a “frankly my dear, I don’t give a darn” kind of way (though it can feel like that), but more like, "Huh, I’m no longer chained to that pain. Praise God for peace!"
Healing happens when you catch yourself thinking, "Wait, I haven't thought about that mess in weeks!" It’s those peaceful mornings where your mind is focused on anything but the past. No more reminders. No more dragging the baggage around like a Samsonite on a vacation you didn’t sign up for.
Healing isn’t about indifference. It’s about peace. It feels like nothing—and that's the beauty of it. It’s not that you don’t care; it’s that God has filled the space where pain used to live (Philippians 4:7).
It took a few small moments for me to realize—hey, I’m really over that chapter of my life. God’s grace did the heavy lifting. No need for boring details; just know I’m free.
While working on a devotion for work, I scrolled through some old blog posts. Wow, were they raw—so much hurt. Part of me wanted to delete them because those feelings feel distant now. But I also want to honor where I was and how far God has brought me. It’s a reminder of His faithfulness, not my strength.
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