Some of the deepest transformations don’t begin with love — they begin with loss. The kind of loss you didn’t see coming. The kind of loss that happened quietly. The kind of loss that left you holding the pieces of your past in your hands. At first, this loss might have felt like abandonment, like a punishment, like something deep inside of you was simply too hard to love, too large to contain. 

But slowly with time, despite the wound, something holier takes shape, something helps you to see that sometimes God removes human beings from your life not to hurt you — but to reveal you. To show you who you are without them. To teach you how to love yourself in your aloneness. 

When a person leaves your life, they take their version of you with them — the version that was shaped by their expectations, the version that was defined by their needs, the version that quieted their heartbeat in order to be chosen or honored or held. In the aftermath of that pain, something softer is left behind. Something truer. Something honest. And in that stillness, you begin to meet yourself again. You begin to realize that you don’t need to be loved by another human being in order to be whole. You start to understand that connection, that depth,  isn’t something you have to chase, or shrink for, or sacrifice your peace to keep. You start learning how to sit with your own presence, how to trust your own heart. You start learning how to stay.

At the end of the day, God doesn’t just heal the places where others have broken you — he expands them. He builds something within you that isn’t dependent on validation, or being understood, or being held together by the person who never truly saw you, who never truly respected your heart. When everyone else in your life goes quiet, God speaks. When the loss feels unyielding, he fills it with truth, he carries it for you, and within that, he proves to you that you are not hard to love. That you are your own home.

The people who leave you don’t leave you empty. Instead, they leave space. They leave questions that become prayers, wounds that become wisdom, and endings that become invitations. If you’re willing to stay to that, to really stay in that dark long enough to feel it, long enough to let it pass through you, God will show you what it’s for. He will show you how to rebuild. He will guide you towards the person he has always known you could become.

This is the sacred reversal of heartbreak:

That what walked away might have been necessary, because what rises in its place is holy. That the most powerful love you’ll ever know is the kind you don’t have to earn — it’s the kind that begins within. That you haven’t been abandoned, you’ve been given the opportunity to see yourself as your deepest love story.

And when you achieve that, when you truly have faith in it, when you find that kind of love within yourself, no one walking away can ever take it from you. No amount of loss can ever threaten it. It was always yours to hold. It was always your destiny.