The quiet art of letting go

What I’m learning about endings and the faith it takes to build again.

I didn't just lose a marriage. I lost the story I thought I'd be living for the rest of my life.

Twenty-five years of shared dreams, shared routines, and shared history. And yet, here I am—at peace, somehow.

Not because it didn't hurt. Not because there wasn't grief. But because when it became clear that it was time to let go, I knew I had a choice:

To hold on and make it ugly. Or to let go with grace.

Most endings are marked by anger, blame, and bitterness. But I've come to believe that the way you end something is the way you enter what's next. If you leave with resentment, you'll carry that into the next thing. If you leave with peace, you'll bring that peace with you.

Letting go is an art. It's a practice of releasing what no longer serves so you can open your hands to what's waiting. It's trusting that the same God who walked with you through the good years is the same God who will carry you into what's next.

Letting go with faith allows us to say:

I don't know what's ahead,

but I trust that it will only be beautiful—if I bring beauty with me.

If you’re in a season of endings, I want you to hear this:

You don’t have to make it ugly.
You don’t have to burn it all down.
You don’t have to carry bitterness into your next season.

You can choose peace.
You can choose grace.
You can choose to let go, quietly, with love.

It’s not easy.
But it’s the only way to honor your soul—and the God who gave it to you.

I'm learning this step by step. As I let go of a marriage, as I sell my home in Maine, as I walk into the unknown, I'm choosing to let go with grace—so that what comes next can be built by hand, with peace in every board, and love in every nail.

Reflection for You:

What are you holding onto that no longer serves you?
What would it look like to let go—not with bitterness, but with quiet faith?

Until next time.

—Mike