Thanksgiving Morning Letter to the Woman Who Has Survived More Than Anyone Knows

Before this day begins…before the noise, the expectations, the family dynamics, the empty seats, or the full ones…

I want to speak to you.

To the woman who has fought through a year of heartbreak, healing, rebuilding, and becoming—Happy Thanksgiving.

But not the surface version.

The sacred kind.

The I made it through another year by the grace of God kind.

The He never left me, not once kind.

The kind of Thanksgiving that comes from survival and transformation, not perfection.

Because if you’re reading this, I know something about you:

• You’ve carried burdens nobody saw.

• You’ve held your family together while breaking inside.

• You’ve healed wounds you didn’t deserve.

• You’ve cried in silence, prayed in desperation, hoped in faith, and stood back up again and again—even when you didn’t feel strong.

And today, whether you’re surrounded by family, standing in a kitchen alone, or navigating complicated relationships and empty chairs…

I want you to know this:

You are not behind.

You are not forgotten.

You are not alone.

And you are not failing.

Your presence on this earth is a gift.

Your healing journey is holy.

Your quiet courage is seen by Heaven.

Even if today feels tender.

Even if your children are distant.

Even if family dynamics are heavy.

Even if your heart aches for the version of motherhood you wish you had.

God sees every part of this day —and every part of you.

Today, may you find gratitude not in the circumstances, but in the God who is carrying you through them.

Gratitude that you survived what tried to break you.

Gratitude that you are becoming a woman who walks in truth.

Gratitude that healing has begun — even if it’s slow.

Gratitude that God is rewriting your story, one breath at a time.

And gratitude that your future is still full of promise.

So, before you step into this day, take one deep breath and let this truth settle:

You are worthy of joy.

You are worthy of good things.

You are worthy of healing and peace and restoration.

And God is not done with your story.

I would like to close out with a prayer for you today: Father,

On this Thanksgiving morning, I lift every woman reading this into Your tender, steady, unshakable hands.

You see the one spending her first holiday alone…the one whose home feels too quiet…the one grieving children who are distant…the one navigating the heartbreak of estrangement…the one eating at a table that used to be full…the one trying to smile through memories that ache…the one carrying strength she never asked for.

God, surround her with a peace that doesn’t come from circumstances, but from Your presence. Let her feel You in the room with her —in the silence, in the stillness, in the long exhale she’s been holding for months.

Where grief rises, bring comfort.

Where loneliness settles, bring Your nearness.

Where fear whispers, speak truth.

Where memories sting, pour balm.

Where her heart trembles, give her courage.

Remind her that she is not forgotten.

Not abandoned.

Not unseen.

Not unloved.

Today, let gratitude take the form of Your faithfulness —not perfection, not performance, not picture-perfect moments, but the truth that she made it through another year by Your grace.

Thank You for carrying her when she was exhausted. For protecting her when she was vulnerable. For strengthening her when she felt weak. For whispering hope into places she thought were dead. For guiding her steps, even when the path was painful.

Lord, let her heart rest today.

Let her feel Your arms around her.

Let her know — deeply, truly — that she is held.

And for every woman who wishes she were waking up in her old life…her old home…her old family rhythm…touch those tender places gently.

Remind her she is not living a lesser story —she is living a redeemed one, one You are still writing.

Fill her with peace at the table, peace in the kitchen, peace in the silence, peace in every room she enters today.

Let her feel Your love so fully that loneliness cannot swallow her, and grief cannot crush her.

Bless her with a quiet joy —a soft, steady joy that doesn’t deny the pain but sits beside it with hope.

Thank You for her resilience.

Thank You for her courage.

Thank You for her healing journey.

Thank You that her story is not over.

And thank You that You are her strength, her joy, her hope, her peace, and her unfailing love.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Happy Thanksgiving, beautiful friend.

I’m grateful for you today.

With love,

Jill | Inner Healing Coach

@innerhealingcoach