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Letting Go, Letting Be, Letting God – A Special Journey of Reconciliation and Forgiveness!

Sr. Veronica Fatoyinbo, SNDdeN

There is something profoundly beautiful about the changing seasons, especially the way a tree surrenders its leaves in autumn, stands bare in winter, and bursts into new life in spring. Each stage speaks to the rhythm of life, the process of letting go, allowing things to be as they are, and ultimately trusting in the renewal that only God can bring.

During this sacred season of Lent, I am called to enter into this cycle with a deeper awareness of God’s grace. Lent is a time of stripping away, of letting go of attachments that weigh me down, of surrendering my own desires in order to embrace the will of God. It is a journey of inner conversion—a time to release, to trust, and to make space for the new life Christ promises through His Resurrection.

I have come to see forgiveness through this imagery—a sacred cycle of release, surrender, and transformation. When someone wounds me, my first instinct is often to hold on tightly, just as a tree resists shedding its leaves when the winds begin to stir. The hurt clings to my heart like autumn leaves reluctant to fall, as if by grasping them, I can make sense of the pain. But true healing begins only when I choose to let go.

Letting Go: The Call to Surrender
Letting go is not forgetting, nor is it pretending that the wound never happened. It is the conscious decision to release the weight of bitterness and resentment, trusting that God is the true healer. Like a tree in autumn, I must surrender what no longer serves me, allowing grace to sweep away the burdens of anger and regret. This is the invitation of Lent: to lay down the burdens of sin, pride, and unforgiveness at the foot of the Cross. Christ Himself, in His Passion, exemplifies this surrender—He lets go of everything, even His life, so that we may be saved.

The bareness of winter may follow—a season where I feel vulnerable, stripped of my defenses, unsure of what comes next. Yet, even in this stillness, God is at work. Lent mirrors this winter season, calling me into the desert of self-examination, fasting, and prayer. Here, I learn that my strength is not in my own striving but in the stillness of trust.

Letting Be: Trusting God’s Timing
Letting be is the quiet acceptance that some things cannot be changed by my own effort. Just as a tree does not force itself to regrow leaves in the middle of winter, I cannot rush the process of healing or demand immediate justice. There is wisdom in waiting, in embracing the silence, and in trusting that God’s timing is perfect.

Jesus in Gethsemane embodies this surrender—"Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done" (Luke 22:42). Sometimes, God’s answer is not immediate relief but the grace to endure, to wait, and to trust in the unfolding mystery of His plan. Some wounds take time, some relationships may never be restored as they once were, and some situations must be entrusted entirely to God’s hands. Lent reminds me that in this waiting, in this seeming emptiness, God is working unseen miracles.

Letting God: The Grace of New Life
And then, the miracle of spring arrives. Just when all seems still and lifeless, tiny buds begin to appear. This is the work of grace—restoring, renewing, and making all things new. Letting God means entrusting my pain, my past, and my future into His hands. It is believing that He can bring forth something beautiful even from the most broken places. His love, like the sap rising through the tree’s veins, nourishes me back to life, allowing me to bloom in ways I never imagined.

Lent leads to Easter—the ultimate proof that death is not the end, that surrender is not loss, but gain. Jesus’ Resurrection is the fulfillment of the promise that when I let go, when I let be, and when I let God, I am not abandoned but transformed. Each cycle of forgiveness teaches me anew that I am not the gardener of my own soul—God is. My task is to let go of what I cannot control, let be what needs time, and let God do what only He can.

And in this surrender, I find peace. In this trust, I find freedom. And in His grace, I am made new, season after season. May this Lent be a time of true renewal, where I let go, let be, and let God lead me into the fullness of His love.