Let’s talk about pain. Not the stub-your-toe, forgot-your-password-again kind (although, ouch). I’m talking about real pain—the kind that scrapes at your soul, leaves you breathless in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon, and shows up uninvited like your cousin Jack with a suitcase. (JK Jack)

Pain is universal. But the way we respond to it? That’s a choice.
Pain can leave you with a heart that’s soft and open… or one that’s hard and locked up like a high-security vault.

Soft Hearts & Open Hands

A soft heart isn’t weak. It’s not a doormat or a punching bag. It’s not someone who says, “Please, may I have another traumatic experience?” No, no, no.

A soft heart has survived pain—and chosen to stay tender. It has walked through betrayal, disappointment, and grief, but instead of shutting down, it said:

“This hurts. But I want to understand it. I want to grow from it. I want to trust that God can still do something with this mess.”

Soft hearts don’t deny pain; they honor it. They cry when needed, laugh when they can, and hug a little tighter because they know what it’s like to feel alone. They become compassionate instead of critical. Patient instead of bitter. Empathetic instead of judgmental.

They don’t let pain define them—but they let it refine them.

And trust me, there’s a deep kind of beauty in that. The kind that makes people feel safe in your presence. The kind that trusts God with broken pieces and believes healing is possible—even when it’s slow.

Hard Hearts & Closed Doors

Now let’s talk about the other path. When pain enters and the heart says, “Nope. Not doing this again.” It shuts the door, locks it, throws the key in the ocean, and posts a sign that says: “No feelings allowed. Keep out.”

A hard heart builds walls. It tells you that vulnerability is weakness. It becomes cynical, angry, judgmental. Why? Because it feels like a victim. It believes pain is happening to them and there’s nothing they can do to stop it.

A hard heart says:

“People always let me down. Why even try?”
“God didn’t come through for me. I’m on my own.”
“If I don’t protect myself, no one else will.”

Can I be honest? I get it. I’ve been there. I’ve wanted to slam the door on hope too. But a hard heart isn’t protecting you—it’s imprisoning you. It traps you in your worst moment and convinces you that’s your forever.

And spoiler alert: it’s not.

The Choice is Yours (Even When It Doesn’t Feel Like It)

I know, I know—”Choose how I respond to pain?” That might sound like a bad motivational poster. But here’s the truth: You can choose. Not always easily. Not always quickly. But you have more power than you think.

You can choose your thoughts.
You can change your perspective.
You can decide whether pain makes you bitter… or better.

And listen, I’m not saying it’s a one-time decision. Sometimes it’s every morning. Sometimes it’s every hour. But softening your heart in a painful world is a rebellious act of faith. And it’s worth it.

So let your pain teach you, not trap you. Let it open your heart instead of closing it. Let it lead you to trust, not terror. And if you need to cry? Cry. Then get up, grab some coffee (or tea if you’re fancy), and remember:

A soft heart is strong.
A soft heart trusts.
A soft heart heals.

And hey, if you need help softening your heart again, that’s why people like me—exist. I’ve been there and you’re not alone. Not even a little.

Peace