Baby Steps Into a New Beginning: Trusting God With What’s Next

It’s usually exciting for me to start a new year. There’s a sense of hope that feels close enough to reach. However, the last few years have fallen short of that feeling. Even though hope was still present, the years themselves were not what I would call “good.” Yes, there were many good moments, but there were also experiences that left me feeling deeply discouraged and hopeless.

Still, here I am again, standing at the beginning of a new year like everyone else—and that alone is a gift. I recognize that and I’m grateful. There are many who didn’t make it to see this year, and while I’m thankful, I also grieve for those who have experienced such loss since I know it all too well.

I keep asking myself—how do I step into the future that’s waiting for me? I can feel it reaching for my hand, but I’m still gripping what’s familiar. What’s comfortable. What I know. A huge part of my life is gone now, and I don’t think I’ve fully made peace with that.

I’m just venting here.

Recently, I went on a blind date. It went surprisingly well. He was kind, easy to talk to, and for a moment, I felt excited—almost hopeful. But even in that excitement, I noticed something about myself. I was still holding onto an old illusion. An old story I thought my life would follow. The way I believed things would turn out. The person I thought it would happen with. The timeline I thought I’d be on.

And there I was—standing face-to-face with the future, while mentally and emotionally clinging to the past.

I’m not saying this person is my future. But what if he could be? How do I allow myself to explore what’s in front of me without being stuck in what never came to be?

Letting go feels complicated. It feels like erasing parts of myself. The people I’ve lost, the dreams I carried, the life I imagined—they shaped me. They made me who I am. And sometimes it feels like if I release them, I lose my history. Like my past suddenly disappears.

I don’t want that.

I want to remember without hurting. I want to look back with gratitude instead of grief. This isn’t about forgiving anyone—it’s about grieving expectations, dreams, and futures that never happened. That pain doesn’t just disappear because you’re “supposed” to move on.

I know I’m not alone in this. I know others are walking this same uncertain space between what was and what could be. I’m doing the best I can with what I know right now. Maybe healing really does take time. Maybe it’s slower than I want. That doesn’t make it any easier.

Still, I trust that God is with me in this. That He’ll guide me through each step—each baby step—until I arrive where I’m meant to be. Even if I don’t see the whole path yet.