Fifteen Years, One Moment, and the Miracle in Between

"I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten..." — Joel 2:25 (NIV)

We flew to California over the weekend for a family photo shoot and mini-reunion on my husband’s side. That was the plan. But God had another one waiting.

Saturday morning, I woke up early, grabbed some coffee, and drove 20 minutes north to see someone I honestly never thought I’d see again—my dad.

For a long time, I carried a lot of anger toward him. I didn’t long for a reunion. I didn’t picture a moment of closure. I had convinced myself I was better off without one.

But God had been working in the background, healing things in me I didn’t even know were still broken.

Fifteen years.

That’s how long it had been. Not fifteen days. Not fifteen months. Fifteen years of silence, distance, and pain that built walls I never thought would come down.

When my dad went to prison, I told myself that was it. That was the final chapter in a long, complicated story. But God...God is a better author than I’ll ever be.

That morning was nothing short of a miracle.

It wasn’t cinematic. No music swelled. No one sobbed in a parking lot. It was quiet. Simple. And it was holy.

We sat across from each other, trying to piece together how long it had been.“Sixteen years? “Maybe seventeen?”Neither of us could say for sure.

Later that night, my sister sent me an old photo of the last time I saw my dad. And there it was, stamped with a date.

It had been fifteen years to the very day.

Not one day off. Not a coincidence. Just God.

Tell me God doesn’t care about the details. Tell me He’s not a redeemer of even the minutes we thought were lost.

Life comes full circle when you lay yourself down.

When you stop needing all the answers. When you stop rehearsing the pain and let God write something new.

Sitting across from my dad, I didn’t feel everything I thought I would. I felt peace.

Not because all was resolved. But because God was there, right in the middle.

Bridging the years. Healing what I couldn’t.

God doesn’t just restore people. He restores moments. He gives back time.

Over the weekend, I realized something sacred.

The hardest seasons—the ones that nearly break you, bury you, and convince you it’ll never be different—aren’t just battles to survive. They’re altars where God does His most holy work.

They’re the places where surrender finally outweighs self-protection. Where healing begins before you even realize it. Where God starts writing the parts of the story you thought were already done.

If I had avoided the pain, I would have missed this. This miracle.This full-circle moment. This personal reminder that nothing—not even the things we’ve buried deep in grief and resentment-is—is beyond God’s reach.

He is not careless with timing. He is not passive with pain. He is the Author of Redemption, down to the very minute.

And when He brings things full circle…You don’t just witness it. You feel it in your bones. You leave different. Humbled. Healed. Marked by mercy.

I walked away from this weekend with one undeniable truth etched into my heart:

There is nothing too lost for God to redeem.

Not the years.

Not the damage.

Not the silence.

Not even me.

My Prayer:

God, thank You for being so intentional. Thank You for every quiet miracle You write into our stories—especially the ones we thought were already over. Thank You for healing in places we never expected, and for showing up in moments we almost didn’t allow ourselves to hope for. You are the God of full circles. The God who restores time, trust, and even the most broken relationships. We trust You with every unfinished chapter.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.