The end?

The End?

When something precious fades,

and the final page turns,

we often sit in the silence, aching—

grieving what’s slipped through our fingers.

We gather the memories like scattered petals,

wondering why it all had to end.

But what if the end

is not a closing door,

but a threshold?

Not a goodbye,

but a sacred invitation to begin again?

What if loss is not absence,

but a gentle clearing—

a holy space carved out for something new to take root?

What if the unraveling

is how God weaves the next chapter?

In every ending,

He is not gone—He is near.

He is not silent—He is writing.

He is not done—He is redeeming.

So let the tears fall; they are not wasted.

Let the silence settle; it is not empty.

Even in the ache,

even in the letting go—

there is beauty.

There is purpose.

There is hope.

For in the kingdom of God,

what looks like death

often holds the seed of resurrection.

And what we call the end

He gently calls

a beginning.