Sparks, Stumbles, and a Lot of Grace

Sparks, Stumbles, and a Lot of Grace

Thirty years ago, fresh off my first divorce, there was someone special who helped me find my confidence again. You could say he was part of the “get-your-groove-back” chapter of my life. He reminded me that I was still vibrant, still desirable, and still myself — even after heartbreak. Fast forward three decades, and here I am, walking out of divorce number two (because apparently I like sequels). And wouldn’t you know it — the universe, with its mischievous timing, brings him back into my life.

There he was — the old flame. Same smile, same easy charm, now softened with a few more wrinkles and maybe a little more wisdom. We started talking, laughing, and reminiscing. Before long, but not without slight trepidation, we decided to see if that old spark still had any life left in it. Let’s say… it did. But with all the nerves, clumsiness, and revisiting a version of ourselves from 30 years ago, layered with history, nostalgia, and probably a ton of subconscious pressure to “see if the spark is still there”

We eventually found ourselves alone together for the first time, and I swear, time folded in half. It felt like two decades had vanished—until the nerves. He, nervously talking, and both of us trying way too hard to let things unfold naturally in the most unnatural ways possible. And right as the chemistry finally ignited… I decided to take control of the moment in what felt like a scene straight out of a dark rom-com: decades-long buildup, a fated reunion, and then… in the middle of what was supposed to be a cinematic moment, I had my very own “plot twist.” Not fireworks — more like… unplanned comic relief. For a split second, I wanted the earth to swallow me whole. Then we both just lost it — laughing until tears rolled down our faces. All that pressure, nostalgia, and history melted into something far better than perfection: pure, ridiculous humanity.

It wasn’t the reunion either of us expected, but maybe it was the one we needed. Because sometimes God — the author of this wild script we call life — throws you a moment so absurd, you have no choice but to laugh and remember: life isn’t meant to be performed. It’s meant to be lived. I didn’t get a flawless rekindling. I got the reminder that I’m still alive, capable of laughing in the middle of chaos, and still open to whatever comes next — even if it’s messy and real. So, no, it wasn’t a Hollywood ending. But it was honest. And if there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that grace shows up in laughter just as much as in tears. Because, maybe that’s what love — and life — are really about: finding the beauty in the blooper reel.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned (sometimes the hard way), it’s that God doesn’t just show up in the breakthroughs — He shows up in the bloopers too. The moments that make us blush, stumble, or fall apart are often the same ones that remind us we’re beautifully human. That moment wasn’t about romance or redemption; it was about release — laughter loosening the weight of expectations, and grace meeting me right in the middle of my mess. Because life after loss isn’t about recreating who you were. It’s about rediscovering who you still are — and being able to laugh when the story takes an unexpected turn.

So here’s to the second chances that don’t go as planned, the sparks that come with messy side effects, and the reminder that joy doesn’t always need to look polished to be divine. Sometimes, grace sounds like laughter — and that’s holy enough for me. You can’t recapture the past. You can only meet it where you are now—older, wiser, softer, and hopefully able to laugh at yourself when things go off-script because that moment wasn’t about failing at romance. It was about God winking at me – saying, “Hey, you’re still in the game. Just not the one you thought you were playing.”

I pray that each of you, when faced with your own moments of pure, ridiculous humanity, will laugh and accept them as reminders that life is imperfect, but it can still be beautiful. There is always something good coming from it all. And if you’re ever struggling or need someone to listen, remember: there’s always a seat at my table. There you’ll find an espresso martini, a few tears, probably some sarcasm, laughter, and lots of Jesus. Never judgement. With faith and friendship, we’ll figure it out together.

Much Love and Blessings

Kim