Divine Whispers and Heavenly Kisses

Sometimes, Lord, I sit in the stillness and it feels like the whole summer rushed at me like cold waves. End of summer always does that to me—brings a weightiness, a holy heaviness that presses into my soul. It’s not depression, not sadness really… just a kind of holy pause. A contemplative ache. A yearning to know—have I made a difference? Did I obey You when it counted? Have I pleased Your heart? Was I a good steward of the time, the breath, the resources, and the people You placed in my life?

Truth be told, I’ve been hit hard this year. Not always in ways that showed up on the surface, but in my soul. You know that, Lord. You saw me.

I look back, and I can’t deny: there were kisses from heaven.

Some were soft, gentle…Others were fierce, disguised as fire.

Scripture tells me in Romans 8:28 that “all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose.” Not all things feel good. But I’m finally realizing—they’re working for my good.

Even when my best friend called to tell me the doctors found something wrong with her dad. Even when I felt like the bottom dropped out and I didn’t know how to pray. I did pray. Weak prayers. Ugly prayers. Honest prayers. And You still showed up. The diagnosis wasn’t what we hoped, but it also wasn’t what we feared. And somehow, in all of it, we felt You closer than we had in years.

God, this year, I have seen You in the quiet places.

You kissed me with that unexpected job interview when I thought I was completely overlooked.

You kissed me through the laughter of my little niece who said, “Jesus makes me giggle.”
You kissed me with peace in the waiting.

You kissed me with confrontation, too—calling me out when I was slipping into compromise, using people-pleasing as a poor excuse for silence.

I don’t always like how You love me, Lord. But I know it’s love all the same. Hebrews 12:6 says, “For the Lord disciplines those He loves, and He punishes each one He accepts as His child.” You don’t coddle me. You grow me. You stretch me. And it hurts. But thank You for not letting me stay the same.

Some of Your kisses this summer came wrapped in grief.

My best friend’s heartbreak broke me, too. Not being there for her physically, not being able to hold her while she cried… that haunted me for all of June. But then… the dream. That dream You gave me where I saw her happy, light all around her. I woke up crying, Lord. That was You. That was Your way of saying, “I’ve got her. I’ve got you too.”

Jesus, help me live with thanksgiving in my bones. Let me not be so busy doing that I forget to be. To be aware. To be grateful. To be present to the soft whispers You’re always sending—those “you are Mine” reminders.

I want to walk into the fall with eyes wide open. Watching. Listening. Surrendered.

Your Word says in James 1:17, “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights.” Even the hard things that become good things—those are gifts, too.

So I’ll take time today. I’ll reflect. I’ll let the tears fall if they need to. I’ll praise You in the remembering. I’ll shout thank You even for the almosts—the doors You closed, the relationships You protected me from, the battles I didn’t have to fight because You stood in front of me.

You kissed me, God, in ways I didn’t deserve. You kissed me in discipline. You kissed me in favor. You kissed me in loss. You kissed me in surprise. You kissed me in the storm—and in the calm after.

Let me never confuse the mundane for meaningless.

A friend’s text. A sunrise with colors I can’t name. The fact that my lungs still breathe and my legs still carry me. The ability to worship You freely. To speak Your name without fear.

These are heaven’s kisses. Every one of them.

Let me live like I know that.

Let me love like I’ve been kissed by God.

Let me fight for joy. Let me confront lies with truth. Let me stay soft in a world trying to harden me. Let me never forget what You’ve done.

Because You are worthy. You are holy. You are here.

You are Emmanuel—God with us.

Even here. Even now.

Lord Jesus,

Thank You for the beauty in brokenness.
Thank You for every whisper, every kiss, every form of love You’ve shown me—whether soft or sharp.

I give You this past year.
The joys, the wounds, the growth, the grace.
And I invite You into every moment of the year to come.
Teach me to recognize Your kisses.

Let my soul be quick to say “thank You”
And let my life be a reflection of Your goodness.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.