“Grace does not erase the cracks; it fills them with purpose. What once broke you becomes the place where love seeps deeper and healing writes its loudest story.” — Dr. Steve Hudgins
There was a season in my life when brokenness was not just an idea; it was everywhere I turned.
In one year:
Cancer threatened my body.
A spouse I trusted walked away.
A business shuts its doors due to financial collapse.
And perhaps most painfully, parental alienation pulled people I loved away from me, leaving an ache no words could reach.
This was just the tip of the iceberg.
All of it hit at once, a tidal wave I was sure would drown me.
I felt abandoned by life, love, and, if I am honest, even by God at times.
My prayers echoed with a single question: Why?
Why this pain?
Why this loss?
Why now?
But the longer I sat in the wreckage asking Why?, the more empty I became.
It was only when I changed the question that healing began.
I stopped asking, Why is this happening to me?
And I started asking, What do I need to learn from this?
That simple but radical shift opened a door I never expected.
It led me to Grace.
There are moments when life leaves fractures so deep it feels like nothing beautiful could ever grow again.
Loss.
Betrayal.
Disappointment.
Grief.
The quiet breaking inside that no one else sees.
Brokenness convinces us that what is shattered cannot be mended.
It tells us that love, trust, or hope are no longer safe to believe in.
But Grace speaks a different language.
Grace does not ask us to deny the pain.
Grace does not demand that we forget the wounds.
Grace simply says: Even here, you are still worthy. Even now, you are still loved.
Grace did not change what was lost.
It changed what was found.
And what I found was this: I am not the ruins. I am the rebuilding.
When we offer grace to ourselves, not blame, not shame, not endless self-criticism, we begin to heal in ways that brokenness tried to steal from us.
Grace allows us to stop seeing ourselves through the lens of what hurts us and frees us to see ourselves through the lens of what remains: dignity, courage, and tenderness.
Grace invites us to sit with our scars, not as signs of failure, but as marks of survival.
It reminds us that the breaking was never the final chapter; it was the ground where resilience was born.
And something powerful happens when we live from that space of grace:
We love differently.
We listen more gently.
We trust again, not blindly, but bravely.
We build relationships rooted in honesty, not fear.
When we extend grace toward what feels broken, both in ourselves and in others, we create authentic, healing, and deeply meaningful connections.
Relationships are no longer about pretending to be unhurt.
They become places where imperfection is not a threat, but an invitation to love more fully.
You no longer seek people to complete you; you seek people to connect with you.
Grace restores what brokenness tried to destroy, not by making life perfect, but by making love deeper, richer, and more real.
The storm was never the end of me. Grace taught me how to dance through it.
Where in your life is grace waiting to meet you today?
P.S. If this resonates with you, I cannot wait to share more when the book releases. Stay tuned.