By Brittany Moore 
Last night, as I was tucking my children into bed, my 7-year-old little old soul, my tiny empath who feels everything a little deeper than most-his prayer ended with: “Lord, please be with the brokenhearted.”
Children have this way of sensing the heaviness we try so hard to keep tucked away. Mine don’t know the details—and they don’t need to—but they know their mama’s heart has been hurting. They’ve caught the quiet moments, the wiped-away tears, the deep breaths I didn’t think anyone noticed.
The pain I’ve walked through didn’t come from strangers or distant voices. It came from people who should have been safe. People who should have cared for my heart, defended my character, and treated my family with gentleness. Instead, their actions left deep marks, the kind that don’t fade quickly.
And during the holidays, those wounds ache differently.
This season is built on togetherness. On family. On connection.
This time of year has a way of spotlighting exactly who is missing.
So when relationships fracture, and people you once counted on are no longer part of your life, whether by choice, distance, or painful necessity, their absence becomes louder. The silence feels sharper. The joy feels more complicated.
But even in the heartbreak, something good has come from it.
I’ve been able to turn these experiences into lessons for my own children. Lessons about showing kindness, setting boundaries, and loving others without losing yourself.
They’re learning hurt doesn’t have to make you bitter. It can make you softer, wiser, more aware.
And honestly? I’m learning the same thing.
My relationship with God has wavered in this season. There have been moments when I’ve felt unseen, moments when I’ve wondered why He allowed the people who caused the most pain to be the ones who should have been safe.
But I’ve slowly realized something: God didn’t walk away from me. I walked away from Him.
Not intentionally, just out of exhaustion.
And yet, every time I turn back, He’s still there.
Patient.
Steady.
Faithful.
I’m learning to find my worth in Him again—not in what others think of me, not in the opinions that were formed without truth or understanding.
God knows my heart, even when others don’t. He sees the hurt, and He sees the healing that’s happening too.
So as another Christmas season passes, I’m doing what I can to lean into what matters most.
I’m focusing on the people inside my home.
The small traditions we love.
The quiet moments of peace God is slowly restoring.
Yes, the hurt is still there.
But so is hope.
So is grace.
So is the promise that God can redeem even the most fractured parts of our lives.
This year, I’m choosing to believe that healing is happening—even if it’s slow, even if it’s tender, even if it still aches sometimes.
Because the holidays may not feel the same anymore…but God’s love hasn’t changed.
And that’s enough to carry me through this season, one gentle step at a time.
by Sara Ohlin 
by Hillary Gruener 
by Her View From Home 
