Dear Little Girl...You Can Heal What Still Hurts

You’ve forgiven. You’ve chosen love. You’ve stayed.

But if you're being honest, there's still pain. The kind that hides beneath the surface… quiet, sharp, and unresolved. And just because you've moved forward doesn't mean it doesn’t still sting.

That doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.

There’s no shame in feeling the echoes of old wounds — the grief that never had space to breathe. You told yourself it didn’t matter. That you were strong. That staying meant letting it go. But what you didn’t realize was that letting go doesn’t always mean pretending it never happened.

Letting go can mean telling the truth. To yourself. To God.

It can mean sitting in discomfort and saying, “This still hurts.”

It can mean owning the anger you buried for the sake of peace. Or finally admitting that what they did did change you — and you’re still becoming whole again.

You’re not broken for needing healing.
You’re brave for asking God to meet you in it.

And He is.

He’s in the ache. In the silence. In the awkward, in-between spaces. He’s in the surrender — the kind that says, “I’m not okay, but I’m giving it to You anyway.”

You are not alone in this.
He doesn’t just carry your healed heart.
He carries your hurting one too.

And you’re allowed to keep choosing love and still want healing.
You’re allowed to hold joy in one hand and ache in the other.

That is not weakness. That is wholeness.

Keep going, little girl.
You’re doing the hard work.
And your healing is holy.

A Question to Journal On:
What part of your story still stings — even though you’ve forgiven?

A Prayer:
Dear God,
Thank You for being safe enough for my pain. Thank You for being the One I can tell the truth to — even when I don’t have the answers. Help me name what still hurts, release what’s not mine to carry, and trust You to restore every part of my heart. You’ve walked with me through it all. Keep showing me how to heal — not just once, but again and again.

Amen.

With tenderness and truth,
Worthy