No one really talks about the part where joy returns —
softly.
Unexpectedly.
Almost like it’s knocking on a door you didn’t think would open again.

You’re still in the middle of it.
Still waiting on answers.
Still holding pieces of things that haven’t healed.

And yet…

You find yourself laughing — really laughing —
and it doesn’t feel forced.
You notice sunlight filtering through the trees,
and it actually stirs something in you.
You start to feel curious again —
about life, about yourself,
about what could still be possible.

It’s disorienting, isn’t it?
After so much survival,
you almost feel guilty for coming alive again.

But this —
this is what healing starts to look like.
Not a finish line.
But little signs of life
breaking through the cracks of everything that tried to bury you.

You don’t have to apologize for the joy.
You don’t have to explain the strength.
You don’t have to wait for perfect to begin living again.

This moment is holy.
This joy is allowed.
And this life — right here — is still yours.

Scripture

“I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”
— John 10:10 (NIV)