Your scars are not stains, they are scripts of survival
Every tear is a seed; every crack, a womb; every ‘no’, a compass redirecting us to purpose
We are not discarded, we are being designed. The ridicule, the abandonment, the silent nights soaked in unseen tears, are not signals of the end, but sacred ingredients of emergence.
Life does not fall apart to destroy us, it breaks to reveal the blueprint beneath
Embrace the fragments. They are not leftovers. They are divine layers of your becoming, and the fragrance they release will tell the world: “I was not destroyed; I was being designed
The silence is not void, it is divine incubation. You are not forgotten, you are hidden until the fragrance of your becoming is ready to bloom
We often walk through life in pieces, shattered by rejection, cracked by betrayal, splintered by the weight of failure. These fragments may appear useless, like shards of a broken vessel, painful to touch and impossible to mend. Yet, unknown to us, they carry the fragrance of a destiny being refined. The pieces don’t make sense at first glance, but they are divine brushstrokes on the canvas of becoming
The fragments of your life are not flaws, they are features of a future unfolding. Be patient
The world teaches us to mourn the fractures, but heaven teaches us to study them, they are chapters of the story we are born to write
The harvest is hidden in the hurt. We become multiplied in fragments. The breaking is not a burial, it is a planting
The cracks of our lives is to let in grace. The ache, though silent, is a sculptor’s hand. And in every whisper of disappointment is the echo of divine orchestration
We often walk through life in pieces, shattered by rejection, cracked by betrayal, splintered by the weight of failure. These fragments may appear useless, like shards of a broken vessel, painful to touch and impossible to mend. Yet, unknown to us, they carry the fragrance of a destiny being refined. The pieces don’t make sense at first glance, but they are divine brushstrokes on the canvas of becoming.
Life does not fall apart to destroy us, it breaks to reveal the blueprint beneath.
The cracks of our lives is to let in grace. The ache, though silent, is a sculptor’s hand. And in every whisper of disappointment is the echo of divine orchestration.
We are not discarded, we are being designed. The ridicule, the abandonment, the silent nights soaked in unseen tears, are not signals of the end, but sacred ingredients of emergence.
Every tear is a seed; every crack, a womb; every ‘no’, a compass redirecting us to purpose
The harvest is hidden in the hurt. We become multiplied in fragments. The breaking is not a burial, it is a planting.
The world teaches us to mourn the fractures, but heaven teaches us to study them, they are chapters of the story we are born to write.
Your scars are not stains, they are scripts of survival
What tried to diminish you will soon announce you. What seemed like your end is only the deep breath before the rising.
So walk on, even if limping. You may have been rejected, but you are not rejected by purpose. You may have been overlooked, but destiny has not missed your name.
The fragments of your life are not flaws, they are features of a future unfolding. Be patient.
The silence is not void, it is divine incubation. You are not forgotten, you are hidden until the fragrance of your becoming is ready to bloom.
What breaks you today, builds you tomorrow; what burdens you now, births you soon.
Embrace the fragments. They are not leftovers. They are divine layers of your becoming, and the fragrance they release will tell the world: I was not destroyed; I was being designed.
