Love That Heals Generations: Finding Freedom During the Holidays

Holidays have a way of stirring the soul. For many, Thanksgiving and Christmas are times of good food, lights, laughter, and love. But for others—perhaps you included—it’s also a time when old wounds resurface. Family gatherings can remind us of what we lost, what never was, or what we still long for.

If you’ve ever felt unseen at the table, weighed down by the ache of rejection or the sting of family dysfunction, I want you to hear this truth from my heart to yours: God’s relentless love can heal what feels unhealable—and even more, it can restore generations.

I know, because that’s my story.

I was born in the late 1960s, the child of young parents who met in high school, whose marriage didn’t last. My father was only nineteen when I came into the world—barely a man himself. My mother was 18 and took on the responsibility of caring for her newborn. She grew up fast. 

Looking back, I can see how unequipped he was to be a father. He carried his own wounds from a broken home, and like many young men of that era, he ran from responsibility, from pain, and from us, every Friday and Saturday night.

My mother eventually made the difficult decision to leave. In those days, custody worked differently. There were no regular court-ordered visits. We moved out of state, and I didn’t see my father again until I was about ten years old.

As a little girl, I couldn’t comprehend his immaturity, pain, or addictions. I only knew of his absence. And in the silence he left behind, I made my own conclusions: My father doesn’t want to see me, maybe I am not worth staying for. Maybe I’m not enough. How do I get his attention? Why doesn't he call? Why doesn't he send child support? Maybe my dad doesn't love me.

Those silent lies shaped my identity more than I realized. But here’s the miracle: God rewrote my story.

Scripture says, “A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in His holy dwelling” (Psalm 68:5). That wasn’t just a verse—it became my lifeline. When my earthly father couldn’t be there, my heavenly Father never left. He stepped into the ache and held me through it. He has shown up in very tangible ways, ministering healing to my heart when my dad wasn't or couldn't be there for me.

Just like Joseph, who was rejected by his brothers (Genesis 37), I discovered that rejection isn’t the end of the story. In fact, it was the soil where God began planting a new legacy in me. He taught me how to forgive—not because my father earned it, but because I was ready to be free.

Forgiveness isn’t pretending the pain never happened. It’s not a quick fix or holiday cliché. Forgiveness is choosing not to let someone else’s brokenness chain you to bitterness. It’s saying, “I release you, so I can finally breathe.”

This holiday season, as you gather with family—or choose not to—I want you to know this: You are NOT the dysfunction you came from. You are not the disappointment you carry. And you are certainly not the abandonment you endured.

God’s love doesn’t just mend—it transforms. It breaks cycles of addiction, anger, and rejection. It replaces silence with purpose, and pain with healing. His love can flow through you to become the healing balm that touches not only your heart, but your children, your nieces, and your grandchildren.

You can be the cycle-breaker. The grace-giver. The woman who steps into a tense room and brings peace—not because everything is perfect, but because you’re walking in the love of a Father who never left your side.

This holiday season, I invite you to reflect, not on what your family lacks, but on what God is building in you. Name your wounds. Acknowledge the grief. But also receive the freedom. You are not powerless. You are not alone. You are loved by the One who restores all things—even years that felt stolen.

Let His love speak louder than the pain.

Let His presence be the gift you unwrap every morning.

And let this be the season where forgiveness finds you—and healing begins.

Guided Prayer

Heavenly Father,I come before You with the ache of rejection and abandonment in my heart. You know the pain of a father walking away, and you also know the deep longing I carried as a child for his love and presence. Today, I choose to bring these feelings into the light of Your truth.

Thank You for being my true Father—the One who never leaves me or forsakes me. When others walked away, you held me close. When I felt invisible, you called me chosen. When I was wounded, you were already preparing my healing.

I release the heavy weight of rejection into Your hands. I forgive my earthly father for what he could not give me. I trust You to be the Father who provides, protects, and loves me without fail.

Surround me with Your presence and fill the empty spaces in my heart with Your Spirit. Remind me each day that I am not forsaken, I am not forgotten, I am not unworthy. I am Yours.

In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Daily Affirmations & Declarations 

Speak these aloud each morning to renew your mind and heart: 

I am chosen and deeply loved by my Heavenly Father. 

I am not abandoned—I am securely held in God’s arms. 

My worth is not defined by my earthly father’s choices but by my identity in Christ. 

I release bitterness and receive the peace of God. 

I forgive, not because it excuses the past, but because it frees my heart for the future. 

God is rewriting my story—what began in rejection will end in redemption.

I am not invisible; I am seen, known, and celebrated by the Lord. 

I am healed, whole, and walking in relentless love and freedom through Christ.

Kimberly Sutton

Author: Kimberly Sutton is a devoted mother of three and a faithful partner to her husband of 34 years. Their journey has spanned over three decades of shared ministry, including roles as pastors, youth mentors, church planters, and missionaries, with transformative service in Paraguay. Graduating from Evangel University with a BS in Communications/Journalism and immersing herself in Spanish culture for a year in Costa Rica have equipped her to connect deeply with others. Her unwavering commitment to her Christian faith truly defines her purpose.