There is something about the first Sunday of the last month of the year that makes the soul quieter. A kind of built-in stock-taking. A gentle pause. A whispered invitation to look back, look inward, and take honest inventory. So if this reads like a sermon today, please forgive me. Sometimes the heart needs truth told in a tone soft enough to land, and this is one I am living through myself.

 

Over the last few weeks, we have explored what happens when life answers your plea with no, and what happens in the long, aching silence that follows. However, there is a third truth — quieter, subtler, easily missed; and it is this:

Not every ‘yes’ arrives sounding like a ‘yes’. Some yeses whisper. Some arrive disguised as loss. Some require a wait so long it bends the spirit, and some come in a form so unfamiliar that you only recognise them months… or years… later. The silent yes.

It takes a certain open heartedness, a willingness to sit still with yourself, to even notice that a yes has entered your life at all, especially when the doorway it used came wrapped in heartbreak, confusion, or delay – because what do you do when the thing you hoped for, prayed for, planned for does not arrive, arrives in pieces that make no sense or disappears altogether? How do you keep believing in possibility when what you asked for collapses right in front of you? These are not small questions. They reshape your worldview. They stretch your self-understanding. They force you into a deeper, quieter kind of clarity.

 

And yet…. with distance, with hindsight, with a softened heart, you begin to see the pattern. You begin to understand the choreography of what once felt like chaos. Some things in your life had to fall apart, not because you were unworthy, but because the version of you who wanted them was not the version of you who could sustain them.

 

Sometimes the yes requires the shedding of an older self. Sometimes the yes comes only after the identity that clung to the old answer has dissolved. It is a transition.

A crossing. A releasing. A becoming. 

You lose a relationship you thought was permanent, only to discover that the breakup cleared emotional space you didn’t know you were starving for. You lose a job, a business, a dream, only to realise, perhaps later, that you had outgrown it long before it outgrew you. You lose friendships you thought were forever, and in the quiet that follows, you begin to hear your own voice again. The voice you silenced to keep a version of the story everyone else preferred.

 

Sometimes the yes comes after something has been taken from you in a way that still doesn’t make sense. A loss you cannot explain. A wound you carry with you into every room. No philosophy can tidy it. No wisdom can fully soothe it. But somewhere in the deep interior of grief, something shifts. Your empathy widens. Your presence deepens.

Your spirit becomes more attuned to what truly matters. There is a yes hidden inside the wreckage; not a yes that replaces the loss, but a yes that reshapes you because of it.

The silent yes. The kind you only notice after the storm when your breath steadies and you catch yourself laughing without guilt or explanation. The kind you recognise through hindsight when you look back at an old, closed door and whisper, ‘Ah… I get it now.’ It’s the kind that reveals itself in the form of a new opportunity, a fuller version of yourself, a deeper peace, a steadier boundary, a soul less willing to shrink. The kind that says: This is who you were growing into all along. This is what needed space to arrive.

 

The silent yes doesn’t shout. It doesn’t force itself into your awareness. It doesn’t demand celebration. It simply arrives – clear, grounded, perfectly timed when the version of you who can honour it finally steps forward. So as we enter the last month of the year, may you find the courage to look back not only at the pain, but at the protection disguised inside it –  the prayers, desires, and intentions that were answered in ways you couldn’t interpret at the time;  the doors that stayed shut because something better was quietly making its way toward you.

The #Unshakable truth is this:

Every no has a lineage. Every wait has a purpose. Every silent yes arrives right on time for the person you are becoming.

 

See you next week.

 

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