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"Because you’re one of my honest and authentic friends - is it normal that I still have days that I cry?"

My heart broke as I read those words from a friend who is on the tail end of heartbreak. Heartbreak is hard. Whether it's relationships, friendships, or not getting something you’ve wanted; when you lose something that mattered, it hurts.

I think one of the worst realizations is that sometimes the people or things you've loved the most, won't always travel with you the rest of your life. With time, it gets easier. But in the moment, this looming thought can terrorize you as you start to embrace a new normal.

In the beginning everyone is there for you. The intentional conversations, the coffee dates, and the words of comfort just roll in. But as the month’s pass, so does the intrigue. People forget or assume you’re doing okay. They try to draw your attention away from the hurt and onto newer, exciting things coming.

People stop asking questions and you can't ride the coattails of their empathy anymore.

You know you should be over it, but you’re just not there yet. The tears are fewer and farther between, but there’s still a tenderness that hurts a little when you pass by a restaurant, or see a picture on Instagram.


In the story of Jonah - Jonah is left alone, afraid, and probably a little confused. I think it may be safe to say this is one of the lowest point of Jonah's life? Sitting in the stomach of a whale? I don’t know though, just a guess.

In Jonah 2, Jonah has a “come to Jesus moment”, or whatever they called it before Jesus was around. He cried out to the Lord and in verse 2:7 says – "When my life was fainting away I remembered the Lord, and my prayer came to you.."

When we look back to some of the lowest points in our lives, we write, we pray, and we cry, our hardest. The tears are raw and the words, unedited. They aren't smooth, or carefully crafted. Often times they are jumbled and broken and some of the most authentic words we've ever spoken.

But what we find in the season of heartbreak is that the Lord hasn’t left. He never went away. And no matter how far we feel, He's doing everything in His power to get us back.

Even if it means sticking us in a season that hurts a little. Even if it means peeling back layers that aren't good for us anymore. Even if it means taking a spotlight to the parts of our heart that we try so desperately to keep hidden from the world.


The basement of our very own whale floor is sometimes the platform the Lord uses to heal us.

It's not always pretty, or flashy (or clean), but its His way of guiding us, molding us, and getting back to where we should be.

I'm writing to a small number of you. Or possibly a larger number than I think. I'm writing to ones who don't want to admit that something or someone mattered this much to them. I'm writing to the ones that are trapped in a secret. To the ones who put on a brave face, but still have the days when they crumble. To those who are reading and are searching for any light home.

He has you, He always had you, and He's running after you with everything He's got. 


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