Gathering What Remains

After a season of letting go, there’s a hush that follows. The noise quiets. The striving slows. And all that’s left are the small pieces still standing.

They may not look like much - a few friendships that held, a bit of faith that didn’t give way, a spark of strength that somehow stayed. But these are not scraps. They are treasures.

When you’ve walked through a painful marriage, you know how much can fall away - the trust, the laughter, the sense of being understood. Sometimes you look around and wonder what’s left of you.

But healing begins when you stop staring at what’s been lost and start gathering what remains. Gather the moments of truth that surface. Gather the courage it took to speak up, even once. Gather the glimpses of God’s nearness when you thought He was silent.

It’s in these remnants that new life begins to take root. God never asks us to rebuild from abundance, only from what’s left. A few loaves. A bit of oil. A mustard seed of faith. That’s where His multiplication happens.

So, as the world turns toward colder days and longer nights, take time to notice what’s still here: the warmth of your own heart, the steady love of friends who see you, the quiet knowing that you’ve survived what you once thought would break you.

You don’t need to have it all to begin again. You need to gather what is still and place it back into the hands of the One who never stops restoring.

And as you do, remember this: God meets you in motion. Faith opens the door, but healing grows when you act, when you choose one small step at a time, to care for the life that’s still yours.

Next week, we’ll talk about what it looks like to take hold of yourself again — to nurture what’s been planted and walk in renewal.

“I will restore to you the years that the locusts have eaten.”Joel 2:25 (NIV)

Still Her - The Journey Home