Beautiful Surprise

Learning how to receive love again

For a long time, love felt like something I had to earn. I learned how to be strong, capable, dependable—how to show up for others even when my own cup was empty. Somewhere along the way, love became intertwined with performance. If I could just do enough, be enough, prove enough—then maybe I would be worthy of care, affection, and consistency.

But healing has a way of gently unraveling what we thought we knew.

Love is not a reward for performance

One of the most tender lessons I’m learning is that we don’t have to audition for love.

We don’t have to overextend myself to be chosen.

We don’t have to silence my needs to be kept.

We don’t have to shrink, strive, or self-abandon to be worthy of someone’s affection.

Simply being ourselves is enough.

Love—healthy love—doesn’t demand exhaustion. It offers rest. It doesn’t require perfection; it welcomes presence. And learning how to receive that kind of love has been just as much a journey as learning how to give it.

Releasing the grip of the past

Past experiences have a way of shaping our instincts. They teach us what to expect, what to brace for, and what to avoid. And while those experiences may have once protected me, I’ve had to ask myself a hard question:

Am I guarding my heart, or am I imprisoning it?

Not every relationship is a repeat of what hurt me.

Not every person carries the weight of my past.

Not every invitation to connect is a threat.

Healing doesn’t mean forgetting—it means refusing to let yesterday write today’s story.

Letting your guard down—wisely

Letting someone in doesn’t mean throwing discernment out the window.

It means allowing yourself to be seen without over-explaining.

It means offering honesty without over-defending.

It means opening your heart while still honoring your boundaries.

I’m learning that vulnerability and wisdom can coexist. I can be open and discerning. Soft and grounded. Hopeful and prayerful.

Trusting the Lord, while using discernment

At this stage of my life, trust isn’t rushed—it’s rooted.

I trust the Lord to order my steps.

I trust Him to highlight red flags and green lights.

I trust the peace He gives when something is aligned—and the discomfort when it’s not.

Discernment isn’t fear disguised as wisdom. It’s clarity, peace, and truth working together. And when I listen closely, I don’t have to force outcomes. I can simply follow His lead.

The Risk and Reward of Friendship and Dating

Yes, there is risk in letting people close.

There’s risk in friendship.

There’s risk in dating.

There’s risk in hoping again.

But there is also reward.

There is laughter.

There is companionship.

There is the quiet comfort of being known.

There is the beauty of connection that doesn’t require pretending.

I’m learning that the goal isn’t to avoid pain at all costs—it’s to live fully, honestly, and intentionally, trusting God to meet me in the process.

Loving again as a widow

Being a widow adds a sacred complexity to the idea of love.

I’ve loved deeply. I’ve committed fully. I’ve built a life and watched it change in ways I never imagined. So when the desire to explore love again surfaced, it wasn’t casual—it was layered with memory, reverence, and responsibility.

Choosing to open my heart again does not diminish the love I had.

It does not replace what was lost.

And it certainly doesn’t mean I’ve “moved on.”

It means I’m still alive.

It means the love I experienced taught me what’s possible.

It means my heart, though changed, is still capable of connection.

As a widow, readiness doesn’t come from loneliness or pressure—it comes from wholeness. From doing the work. From grieving honestly. From learning who I am in this new chapter. I’m not dating to fill a void; I’m dating from a place of clarity, healing, and intention.

There is also courage in acknowledging the tenderness that remains. Certain moments may carry echoes of the past. Certain milestones may feel bittersweet. And that’s okay. Love after loss is not about erasing grief—it’s about allowing joy and remembrance to coexist.

I’m learning to give myself permission to hope again without guilt.

To laugh without explanation.

To imagine a future that looks different, yet still beautiful.

If love comes again, I trust it will honor the woman I’ve become and the story I carry. One that understands loss, values presence, and doesn’t take connection for granted.

And in this season, I’m choosing not to rush—only to remain open. Trusting the Lord to lead, protect, and surprise me in His perfect timing.

Choosing love without fear

Receiving love again is not about erasing your past—it’s about honoring how far you've come.

You deserve to be loved.

You deserve to be cared for.

You deserve connection that feels safe, mutual, and kind.

And as you continue this journey, choose to believe that love doesn’t have to be heavy to be real. Sometimes, love simply meets you where you are—and stays.