To the One Starting Over

I still remember the morning I walked out of my apartment for the last time. Nothing in my hands but a single bag and a knot in my chest I couldn't swallow down. The hallway smelled like someone else's cooking. The door clicked shut and I stood there, frozen.

That click meant everything.

Starting over is not an adventure. Not at first. It's terrifying. It's humiliating. It's standing in an empty apartment with a mattress on the floor wondering how you got here.

But here's what I need you to hear: every saint you've ever read about was terrible at endings. Peter denied Jesus three times and wept. Ruth left everything she knew behind. Elijah ran into the wilderness and begged God to let him die.

These are not polished stories. These are human stories.

"I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11

I read this verse so many times and it bounced off me. I didn't believe it. But looking back now, three years later, I see it. The job I didn't want but said yes to. The friend who showed up with pizza and didn't ask questions. The Sunday morning I dragged myself into a church pew and just sat. Cried. Nobody bothered me.

These were all God. Every single one.

If you just closed a door, or had it closed for you, you are not behind. You are not beyond repair. The dirt has been turned over, and that's the only way anything grows.