Stormeyes Enchanted

Today, a quote popped up on my phone from one of my apps:

“Move on. Not out of bitterness, but in obedience to the healing God wants to bring.”

I glanced at it, turned my screen off, and then immediately turned it back on.

Because wait a minute.

Did I just read that right?

I have heard about forgiveness my whole life. If you grew up anywhere around faith, church, Sunday school, grandparents, or adults who seemed to have a Bible verse ready faster than Google, then you have probably heard it too.

“God wants us to forgive.”

“Forgiveness is not for them. It is for you.”

“Let go and let God.”

And listen, all of that may be true.

But sometimes when you are the one who has been hurt, those words can feel a little too neat.

A little too easy.

A little too “stitched on a pillow by someone who has clearly never been emotionally drop-kicked by another human being.”

Because forgiveness sounds beautiful in theory.

But in real life?

Sometimes forgiveness feels like trying to hand over a porcupine while it is actively attacking your face.

The Spicy Part of Me Has Entered the Chat 👿

If you know me well, you know I can have moments of being a little spicy.

And by “a little spicy,” I mean I have been known to blow like some ten-cent dynamite a time or ten.

Maybe more than ten. 😬

But who is counting?

(Okay, God probably is, but we are not going to dwell on that right now.)

I can be patient for a long time. I can give chance after chance. I can understand things. I can make excuses for people. I can try to see where they are coming from. I can put my own feelings on a shelf and tell myself, “It is fine.”

And then eventually, I hit my limit.

And when I hit it, I do not gracefully arrive at the boundary like a calm, emotionally regulated adult.

No.

I come in hot with a full marching band, fireworks, a dramatic monologue, and probably receipts from 2009. 💣🧨📱

It is simply part of my charm.

I am certain it is the thing people love most about me. 😁

{ Please notice the sarcasm there. It is important to the healing process! }

When “Never Again” Lasts About an Hour

Here is another confession.

I am the person who will say, “I will NEVER help them again.”

Never.

Absolutely not.

I am done.

Finished.

Closed for business.

Put the sign on the door and flip it to “Nope.”

Then they call an hour later, and there I am, rolling my eyes while grabbing my keys.

Am I a pushover?

Maybe.

Probably.

Fine, yes.

But I think a lot of us are complicated like that. We can be hurt and still caring. Angry and still loving. Done and still showing up. Fed up and still unable to ignore someone in need.

And sometimes that creates a confusing mess inside of us.

Because we think forgiveness means pretending something did not hurt.

We think moving on means letting someone off the hook.

We think letting go means saying, “What you did was fine.”

But what if that is not what forgiveness is?

What if forgiveness is less about excusing what happened and more about refusing to let what happened keep owning the deepest parts of us?

The Quote That Would Not Leave Me Alone

That quote got me because it shifted something.

“Move on. Not out of bitterness, but in obedience to the healing God wants to bring.”

Not move on because what happened did not matter.

Not move on because they deserve instant access to you again.

Not move on because you are weak.

Not move on because everyone else is tired of hearing about it.

Not move on because “good Christians do not get angry,” (which, by the way, is not true.) Some of us get angry with impressive commitment. 🤷‍♀️

But move on because God wants to heal something in us that bitterness keeps reopening.

That hit me differently.

Because maybe forgiveness is not only about what the other person did.

Maybe it is also about what unforgiveness is still doing inside of me.

Ouch.

Rude, but spiritually rude, so I guess I will deal.

Bitterness Keeps the Wound Busy

Bitterness can feel powerful at first.

It feels like armor.

It feels like control.

It feels like, “You do not get to hurt me and then just walk away.”

It feels like holding the evidence in your hands and saying, “See? This mattered. This was wrong. This hurt me.”

And sometimes we need that acknowledgment. We need to admit that something hurt. We need to stop minimizing it. We need to stop gaslighting ourselves into calling deep wounds “no big deal.”

Some things were a big deal.

Some things did hurt.

Some things changed us.

Some things should not have happened.

But bitterness has a way of keeping us tied to the thing that wounded us. It does not heal the injury. It just keeps poking it to make sure it still hurts.

And then we wonder why we cannot find peace. (Or at least I do.)

Meanwhile, bitterness is standing there with a little shovel, digging up the same pain every morning like, “Good news, I found this again.”

Thank you, bitterness. Very helpful. Five stars for consistency. Zero stars for emotional wellness. 🫨

Forgiveness Is Not the Same as Reconciliation

Now let me be very clear, because this part matters.

Forgiveness does not always mean reconciliation.

Forgiveness does not mean pretending abuse, betrayal, cruelty, manipulation, or repeated harm did not happen.

Forgiveness does not mean handing someone the same weapon and hoping they use it more politely next time.

Forgiveness does not mean you have to trust someone who has shown you they are not safe.

Forgiveness does not mean access.

Forgiveness does not mean no boundaries.

Sometimes forgiveness looks like praying, “God, I give this to You because I cannot keep carrying it,” while also saying, “And that person no longer gets a front-row seat in my life.”

That is not bitterness.

That is wisdom.

There is a difference between a hardened heart and a protected one.

There is a difference between refusing to forgive and refusing to be harmed again.

And I think sometimes we confuse those things.

The Part Where I Realize I Am Also Hard on Myself

Since we are apparently doing confessions today, here is another one:

I am hard on myself.

Painfully hard.

I can self-punish over almost anything.

I can replay conversations, decisions, mistakes, reactions, and choices until my brain is basically running a courtroom where I am both the defendant and the angry little prosecutor with too much caffeine.

And honestly, I am starting to see how much of my anxiety is connected to that. Especially after losing Garet.

I do not only hold grudges against other people.

Sometimes I hold them against myself.

That is a rough thing to realize. And to admit.

Because it means forgiveness is not only something I need to offer outward.

It is something I may need to receive inward.

Maybe part of the healing God wants to bring is not only helping me release what others did to me.

Maybe He also wants to help me stop punishing myself for being human.

For being overwhelmed.

For not knowing better sooner.

For staying too long.

For reacting too big.

For trusting the wrong people.

For being a pushover.

For finally blowing up after swallowing things I should have spoken sooner.

For carrying pain in ways I did not know how to handle.

That kind of self-forgiveness is hard too.

Sometimes harder.

Because at least with other people, I can avoid them.

Unfortunately, I am with me all day.

Very inconvenient.

Healing May Require Letting God Touch the Thing We Keep Guarding

Here is where that quote really got under my skin.

If God wants to bring healing, then what am I doing when I refuse to let go?

Am I protecting myself?

Maybe sometimes.

But am I also guarding the wound so tightly that even God has to gently ask me to loosen my grip?

That is a hard question.

Because sometimes the pain becomes familiar. The anger becomes familiar. The story becomes familiar.

And if we are honest, sometimes the grudge gives us something to hold on to when we feel like what happened was never made right.

But God’s healing does not always look like the other person finally understanding.

It does not always look like an apology.

It does not always look like justice in the way we wanted.

Sometimes healing begins when God says, “I saw it. I know. Now let Me help you stop bleeding from it.”

And maybe moving on in obedience is not about saying they were right.

Maybe it is about trusting that God can be trusted with what they did.

Even when we are not ready to play nice.

Even when we still have a little smoke coming out of our ears.

Even when we are praying through clenched teeth.

Even when the most spiritual thing we can say is, “Lord, You are going to have to help me, because I am currently interested in choosing violence.”

Hypothetically, of course.

Moving On Does Not Mean You Were Not Hurt

One reason I think forgiveness is so hard is because we are afraid moving on will make it look like the pain was not real.

Like if we stop talking about it, stop reacting to it, stop carrying it, then somehow the world will think it did not matter.

But healing does not erase the truth.

You can move forward and still say, “That hurt me.”

You can forgive and still remember what happened.

You can be at peace and still have boundaries.

You can wish someone well from a very healthy distance.

You can release bitterness without handing someone your trust.

Moving on is not denial.

Moving on is not weakness.

Moving on is not pretending.

Sometimes moving on is saying, “This happened. It hurt. It mattered. But it does not get to have the final word over my heart.”

That is not letting them win.

That is letting God heal.

Maybe Forgiveness Is a Process, Not a Personality Makeover

I do not think forgiveness always happens in one dramatic moment.

Sometimes it does.

Sometimes people have that beautiful, tearful, instant-release kind of moment.

And I am happy for them.

Truly.

From a distance.

With my snacks.

But for many of us, forgiveness is a process.

It is choosing again and again not to feed the bitterness.

It is noticing when your mind starts replaying the hurt and deciding not to move back into that mental neighborhood.

It is praying honestly, even when your prayer sounds messy.

It is saying, “God, I want to want to forgive.”

Sometimes that is the best we can do at first.

And I believe God can work with that.

I think God is less offended by our honesty than we imagine. He already knows what is in there anyway. We are not shocking Him.

We are not standing before God saying, “Lord, I have a confession. I am angry,” while He gasps from heaven like, “You? Mandy? Spicy? I never saw this coming.”

He knows.

And He still invites us into healing.

What If Peace Is the Point?

Maybe the point of forgiveness is not that the other person gets away with it.

Maybe the point is that bitterness does not get to keep getting away with stealing our peace.

Maybe forgiveness is not about giving them freedom.

Maybe it is about receiving our own.

Not because they earned it.

Not because the hurt was small.

Not because we are suddenly okay.

But because God wants to bring healing, and bitterness blocks the doorway.

Peace may not come all at once.

It may come little by little.

In moments where we do not react the same way.

In moments where the memory stings less.

In moments where we stop needing to rehearse the whole story to prove it hurt.

In moments where we can breathe again.

In moments where we realize we are not carrying the same weight we used to.

That is healing.

Quiet, holy, stubborn healing.

The kind that does not always look dramatic from the outside, but inside, something is loosening.

A Gentle Challenge

So maybe today, the question is not, “Are you ready to forgive perfectly?”

Maybe the question is:

Are you willing to let God begin?

Are you willing to admit what still hurts?

Are you willing to stop pretending bitterness is protecting you if it is actually exhausting you?

Are you willing to release the need to keep punishing yourself?

Are you willing to ask God to help you forgive, even if your first prayer sounds more like, “Fine, but I am not happy about this”?

Because that counts too.

Sometimes obedience starts with a very reluctant yes.

A yes with attitude.

A yes with tears.

A yes with sarcasm.

A yes that says, “Lord, I do not know how to let this go, but I am tired of carrying it like this.”

And maybe that is enough for today.

Closing Reflection

That quote found me in a very ordinary moment.

Just a phone screen. A quick glance. A sentence I almost ignored.

But sometimes God uses the smallest things to tap on the places we have been trying not to look at.

Maybe moving on is not about bitterness.

Maybe it is about healing.

Maybe forgiveness is not God asking us to pretend the pain did not happen.

Maybe it is God inviting us to stop letting the pain keep happening inside of us every single day.

And maybe, for those of us who are a little spicy, a little stubborn, a little too good at holding receipts, and a little tired from carrying old wounds, the first step is not becoming instantly peaceful and holy.

Maybe the first step is simply turning the screen back on and reading the words again.

Then whispering:

“Okay, God. Help me with this one.”

Because I cannot do it by myself.

And maybe I was never meant to.

A Reflection for the Heart That Is Tired of Carrying It

Maybe forgiveness does not begin with feeling ready.

Maybe it begins with being honest.

Honest enough to say, “That hurt me.”
Honest enough to say, “I am still angry.”
Honest enough to say, “I do not know how to let this go.”

Because sometimes we do not hold on to pain because we enjoy suffering. We hold on because we want it to matter.

We want someone to know how deeply it cut. We want the wound to be acknowledged. We want the truth to be seen. We want the apology, the explanation, the repair, the justice, or at least one good dramatic courtroom scene where everyone finally realizes we were right.

And honestly? Fair.

But what if God already saw it?

What if He saw the whole thing? The hurt, the betrayal, the tears, the silence, the parts you never said out loud, and even the ways you blamed yourself afterward?

What if healing does not mean the hurt did not matter?

What if healing means it mattered so much that God does not want it to keep owning you?

Maybe forgiveness is not one big beautiful moment where we suddenly feel peaceful and angelic.

Maybe forgiveness starts smaller.

Maybe it starts with unclenching one finger.

One prayer.

One breath.

One honest conversation with God.

One tiny willingness to say, “I cannot carry this in a healthy way anymore.”

And maybe moving on is not about pretending everything is fine.

Maybe it is about finally letting God touch the places we have been guarding, not because we are weak, but because we are tired.

Tired of replaying it.
Tired of punishing ourselves.
Tired of being angry on command.
Tired of letting old pain walk into new days like it pays rent.

So maybe today, we do not have to forgive perfectly.

Maybe today, we simply begin.

Maybe today, we tell God the truth:

“I am hurt. I am angry. I am not ready to play nice. But I do want peace. I do want healing. I do want to stop bleeding from something You are trying to help me release.”

And maybe that is enough.

Not finished.

Not perfect.

But enough for God to start working.

Love and Light ~Mandy