It Was Just a Coffee Cup—Until It Wasn’t

I wasn’t looking for a sign today. But there it was—handwritten in black ink on the side of a Starbucks cup.

‘You are loved.’

Three simple words.

Ordinary, even.

And yet, they unraveled me.

Because when your heart has been broken—when you’ve felt like a nomad, cast aside, questioning if you even matter—sometimes all it takes is a whisper from heaven to bring the tears.

The weight of abandonment is a soul-crushing burden pressing down, pushing you to the brink of suffocation. You look around for those you thought loved and supported you—the ones who were supposed to stand beside you through every storm.

But no one is there.

You’re standing in a long, dark hallway…

Praying for a way out…

A window…

A door…

A hand to reach for…

But there’s nothing.

Nothing but you and your pain. The ache isn’t just painful—it’s hollowing. It doesn’t just hurt—it carves out a void, an emptiness where love once lived.

And the worst part?

The disappointment of the loneliness lingers, whispering lies that maybe—just maybe—you never really mattered at all.

I know that voice. I’ve heard its cruel whispers. And for a long time, I believed them—and let’s be honest, sometimes, life gives you so many reasons to believe it.

The past several years, my family has walked through heartbreaks we never expected. The kind that knocks the breath out of you, that keeps you awake at night replaying conversations, wondering how things could have gone so wrong. Those we trusted—those we called family—became the very source of our deepest wounds.

You never see it coming.

And when it does, it shakes you to your core—the moment when you realize the people you thought would always stand beside you chose to turn their backs on you instead.

And yet…

God sees.

God loves.

And sometimes, He reminds us in ways we never expected.

Last week, I sat in church, weary of the weight our family has been carrying for far too long and God spoke. And in the middle of my heaviness, these words echoed from the preacher’s sermon:

“You are loved. You matter.”

Cutting through my grief like a whisper straight from heaven. Before I could even process it, my vision blurred, the weight of it all crashing down in an instant. The tears came fast, slipping down my cheeks, warm and unchecked, in quiet surrender—like my heart finally exhaling after holding its breath for longer than anyone ever should.

It was as if God Himself had leaned down, lifted my chin—gently, like a father reassuring his child—and then wrapped me in His arms. Not in a way I could physically feel, but in a way that my soul felt the depth of His love. The weight of those words settled deep, pressing against every ache that had been crushing my heart. And in that moment, I knew—I wasn’t alone. While many around us may have walked away, He never did and never will.

I left that service carrying those words with me, letting them settle into the cracks of my shattered heart. And just when I thought God had already said enough, He spoke again—this time, in the most unexpected of places.

I stopped for coffee at Starbucks—a rare occurrence these days. I placed my order, took my cup, and as I lifted it for the first sip, my eyes caught something written on the side.

‘You are loved.’

A lump rose in my throat. Never in all my years of frequenting Starbucks had I received anything more than my name scribbled on a cup. And yet, today—those words stared back at me, as if God Himself had written them, whispering them a little louder to my soul yet again.

Right there, in my car, I felt it—a love so relentless, so intentional, it chases me down in the smallest of details. A love that refuses to let me go.

Tears fell freely. Again.

I smiled the whole way home, my heart lighter than it had been in a long time. But oh, how God wasn’t done with me yet.

He had more to say.

As I pulled into my driveway, He whispered again:

‘You matter.’

But this time, He spoke through the hands and feet of dear, sweet friends. Standing there—warm smiles, willing hands, and arms loaded with bags of groceries.

Not just food, but provision.

Not just a kind act, but an answered prayer.

Not just groceries, but the tangible love of a God who sees, who knows, and who provides exactly what we need, exactly when we need it.

They had no idea how much their kindness meant—especially when so many had walked away.

But God did.

Because that’s the kind of God He is. A God who doesn’t just speak through sermons and scripture but through coffee cups and kindness, through whispered reminders and open hands. A God who shows up—in the heartbreak, in the waiting, in the smallest of details—just to remind you that you are seen, you are held, you are so incredibly loved.

And more than that—you matter.

Maybe you’ve been there too.

Maybe you’ve felt cast aside—left to carry burdens you were never meant to bear alone.

Maybe you’ve felt abandoned by the very people who once promised to stand beside you.

Maybe you’ve questioned if you even matter at all.

If that’s you, hear me—YOU DO.

And more than that, God sees you. He hasn’t forgotten you. He is weaving reminders of His love into your story, even in ways you might not expect.

So pay attention, dear friend. Look for Him in the little things. The whisper, the kindness, the provision, the reminder. Because He’s there. And He’s never stopped loving you.

You don’t have to wonder if you matter. You do. And the God who holds the stars is holding you too.