A Journey into Gratitude and Awakening
Winter solstice has arrived, marking the longest night of the year, and I’ve been reflecting deeply on the lessons of my life—particularly on the pain that has shaped me and the truths it has revealed. The solstice reminds us that even the darkest moments have their purpose, for it is only through darkness that we can truly understand the light.
This year, my reflections have brought me to a profound realization: spiritual growth isn’t just about cultivating gratitude for the beauty of life or even for the pain. It’s also about standing in truth, speaking truths that may be uncomfortable for others to hear, and learning to discern between judgment and understanding.
These lessons mark the culmination of a five-year cycle in my life—a period in which I’ve learned to do more than accept reality. I’ve learned to embrace it. Gratitude isn’t just for the moments of joy; it’s also for the breaking. Because it’s in the breaking that I’ve discovered the true meaning of wholeness.
Now, as I step into the light of new beginnings, I see that gratitude and discernment are inseparable. Together, they do more than foster growth within us; they equip us to guide others toward their own truths, not through force, but through the quiet example of living ours.
The Sacred Gift of Pain and Discernment
Here’s the truth I’ve come to understand about this most recent past version of myself, and the experiences that shaped her: I knew, deep down, that some people in my life would mistake my discernment for judgment. I worried about what that would mean—about losing people I loved and deeply wanted to keep in my life. The thought of facing the pain of walking away felt unbearable, so instead, I retreated. I pulled back, not because I didn’t know what needed to be done, but because I wasn’t yet ready to do it.
From the outside, my pulling back might have looked like avoidance. But it wasn’t. My retreat was about solitude—a sacred pause to quiet the noise and hear what Spirit was trying to show me about myself. It wasn’t about avoiding conflict or rejecting anyone. It was about looking inward, taking stock of where I was being called to go, and discerning the role Spirit wanted me to play.
The truth Spirit revealed was both difficult and liberating: their purpose in my life had been to teach me self-respect and to hold myself in higher regard than to allow myself to be a void-filler for others. I realized it was not my job to create or sustain someone else’s joy. That is a responsibility we each hold for ourselves. The joy we bring to others is not something we manufacture to fill their emptiness; it is the overflow of the joy we have cultivated within ourselves. Joy is a gift we deliver—not something we owe.
Likewise, Spirit showed me that my purpose in this person’s life was not to fix or carry them, but to teach them. And not through words, persuasion, or demands, but by example. My role was to show them—through my choice to stand in truth and to choose myself—how they could do the same. To teach them, by living it, what love truly is: not a weapon to control or manipulate, but a sacred gift freely given.
This person needed to learn that love isn’t about control, manipulation, or fear of abandonment. It’s not “If you love me, you’ll do ___ for me.” Love doesn’t demand more than it gives, and it doesn’t serve as a tool to gain access to someone else’s energy, validation, or compliance. Love is a reflection of divine truth. It’s free, selfless, and rooted in wholeness.
But in order to understand that, they needed to grow up. They needed to heal themselves, to step into their own truth, and to stop looking to others to complete what they could only do for themselves. And Spirit showed me that my job wasn’t to fix or carry them, but to love them enough to walk away when staying would have betrayed my own soul.
Gratitude in the Breaking
It hasn’t been easy. Walking away, speaking the truth, and choosing myself required letting go of the illusion that I could save or protect someone else from their pain. It also meant facing the heartbreak of watching them unravel—hurting themselves and others along the way. But as painful as it was, it drove home a deeper truth: Spirit was protecting me. Through the gift of discernment, Spirit had shown me what I couldn’t see while I was still entangled in their chaos.
Spirit’s protection also came through the painful but necessary rejection of my true self I experienced while actively involved in the lives of people who were, in reality, only using me—each in their own way, at different levels. That rejection was a wake-up call, a revelation that my worth was not tied to their acceptance or approval. It was a call to honor the truth Spirit was showing me, even if it meant being misunderstood.
And yet, I’ve learned to be grateful—not just for the moments of clarity, but for the breaking itself. Because it’s in the breaking that we are rebuilt. Just as the solstice reminds us that the longest night leads to the return of the light, so too does pain lead to growth, healing, and transformation.
Psalm 34:18 reminds us, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Gratitude isn’t just about thanking God for the good. It’s about recognizing that even in our darkest moments, we are being guided toward wholeness.
Judgment vs. Discernment: Standing in Truth
One of the greatest lessons of this cycle has been the distinction between judgment and discernment. For too long, I avoided saying what needed to be said—not because I didn’t know the truth, but because I feared how it would be received.
But here’s what I’ve learned: judgment and discernment are not the same.
Judgment says: “I know who you are, so I’m labeling you based on my assumptions.” It’s reactive, rooted in ego, and designed to separate. Judgment diminishes others because it refuses to see their complexity.
Discernment, however, says: “I see who you’ve revealed yourself to be through your actions. I trust the truth of your patterns, even if they don’t align with my hopes.” Discernment is grounded in observation, not assumption. It’s a form of spiritual clarity that allows us to respond with integrity and compassion—not from a place of superiority, but from a place of truth.
This is the lesson Jesus modeled in John 8, when the Pharisees brought Him a woman caught in adultery. They sought judgment, but Jesus responded with discernment: “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her” (John 8:7). Jesus didn’t condone her actions, but He refused to reduce her to them. Instead, He invited everyone present to reflect on their own truths.
Judgment divides. Discernment empowers.
Love as a Path to Wholeness
Ultimately, this experience has taught me that love isn’t about gaining access to someone else’s energy or life. It’s about gaining access to our own spirit. It’s about growing into the fullness of who we are so we can love more selflessly, more truthfully, and more generously.
When I pulled back into solitude, I realized that the love I gave to this person wasn’t meant to bind them to me or to protect them from the work they needed to do. It was meant to show them what love truly is—a reflection of divine love. It was meant to guide them to choose themselves, just as I chose myself.
And here’s the paradox of love: it only fulfills its purpose when it’s freely given. Love that seeks to control, demand, or manipulate isn’t love—it’s ego. And true love, like light after the solstice, invites growth, not stagnation.
Walking Forward in Truth
As I reflect on this five-year cycle—and especially on this year, which has brought the most profound spiritual awakening and understanding I’ve ever known—I am reminded of the immense courage it takes to stand in truth. Speaking the truth, setting boundaries, and walking away are not acts of rejection or judgment. They are, in fact, acts of love. Love for ourselves, as we honor the divine call to align with our highest purpose, and love for others, as we refuse to enable their illusions or compromise their growth by staying where we no longer belong.
This solstice, I’m grateful for the darkness that taught me to see. I’m grateful for the relationships that broke me and showed me the power of discernment. And I’m grateful for the clarity to step forward, knowing that my purpose isn’t to fix or save anyone else, but to embody the truth and love that Spirit has placed within me.
To anyone reading this, I pray you take the time and grant yourself the space to explore these questions during this darkest moment of the year. They have shown me so much and blessed me in ways I couldn’t have imagined. May your answers become nourishment—fertilizing your spirit and preparing you to grow into the lighter, brighter days that are just ahead.
• Where in your life have you mistaken judgment for discernment—or vice versa?
• Where have you allowed fear to silence your truth?
• How can you embrace solitude as a sacred pause rather than an escape?
The solstice reminds us that even the longest night is a doorway to light. Pain is a teacher. Love is a gift. Truth is liberation.
And gratitude—always—is the bridge that carries us from darkness to light.
The Twin Tree Project 