32.
I walked into the year
with prayers folded in my hands
and hope whispering,
maybe this time I will be enough.
Life did not shatter me loudly.
It wore me down quietly,
slowly,
until I barely recognized myself.
I lost my best friend.
Not in one moment,
but in growing distances
and unanswered messages.
I learned that some people
come as comfort
but leave as lessons.
I stayed.
I showed up.
I gave and gave
until giving felt like disappearing.
People came when they needed something.
Strength.
A shoulder.
A place to rest.
When they were full again,
they left,
and I remained empty.
I became useful,
but not cherished.
Present,
but not chosen.
Loved for what I could give,
not for who I was.
So I laughed softly.
Convincing laughter.
I learned how to hide wounds
inside jokes
and dress pain as strength.
Slowly, I stopped telling my story.
Explaining hurt
to people who only listen
when it benefits them
felt heavier
than silence.
I watched others grow
while I questioned my worth.
I feared the future.
I feared being forgotten.
I feared dying
without ever feeling truly seen.
Hope did not disappear.
It simply grew tired.
In that exhausted place
where even prayers felt heavy,
Jesus found me.
Not when I was useful,
but when I was empty.
Not when I was needed,
but when I was breaking.
Jesus stayed
when everyone else walked away.
He listened
when I had no strength left to speak.
He saw the wounds
my laughter tried to hide.
Jesus healed me
without rushing the pain.
He opened doors
I never dared to knock on.
He spoke my name
when I forgot my own worth.
He loved me
not for what I could give
but simply because
I am His.
He held me
after I wandered far.
He waited
patient, gentle, faithful.
I learned that the goodness of Jesus
is not the absence of pain,
but His presence within it.
Nothing was wasted.
Not the loss.
Not the tears.
Not even the moments
I felt used and unseen.
Everything was shaping me.
Now I am ready
to step into 2026.
Not with steady hands
or perfect plans,
but with a fragile heart
held securely
by Jesus.
And that is enough.
Wed 24/12/25
09:05 PM
