This morning during devo, they were talking about leftovers.
It made me think about how much we can actually enjoy them. Sometimes yesterday’s meal becomes today’s comfort food. We know what it tastes like, we know it is there, and there is something comforting about opening the refrigerator and finding something already prepared.
But then there are the leftovers we forget about.
The ones pushed to the back of the refrigerator, hidden behind everything else.
We keep opening the door, reaching for what is easiest to see, while something else quietly waits. Until one day we realize that what once looked so good has changed. It is no longer fresh.
And I couldn’t help but wonder…
Do our hearts have refrigerators too?
Perhaps they do…
That’s where we store everything people leave behind—their love, their attention, their words, their memories.
Their disappointments, their apologies, their excuses, the moments they showed up, and the moments they didn’t.
Over time, those things become what we keep reaching for, whether they nourish us or not.
Sometimes what we receive is life-giving. It fills us, strengthens us, and reminds us that we are loved.
But sometimes we keep returning to leftovers—the fragments of love we’ve learned to accept, even when they are not enough.
The company that is available, yet still leaves us feeling alone. The attention that comes only when it is convenient. The conversations that never change. The hope that this time things will somehow be different.
And because we have lived with it for so long, we begin to confuse familiarity with nourishment.
Meanwhile, something fresh may be quietly waiting behind it—a friendship that brings peace instead of exhaustion, a relationship built on consistency instead of uncertainty, someone who shows up without making us question our worth, or simply the quiet gift of peace we have overlooked because our energy has been spent trying to make the leftovers enough.
The thought that stayed with me all morning was this:
We can become so used to leftovers that we forget what a fresh, nourishing relationship feels like.
Not because we want less.
Not because we don’t deserve more.
But because familiar has a way of convincing us that it is enough.
We keep reheating the same conversations, revisiting the same disappointments, and returning to the same places in our hearts, hoping that somehow they will satisfy us this time.
Sometimes they do.
But often, they simply leave us hungry again.
Perhaps this isn’t about throwing anything away, but about opening the refrigerator of our hearts—not to judge what we find or blame ourselves for what we’ve kept, but simply to notice.
To notice what still brings life, what has quietly taken up space, and what we continue to reach for simply because it has become familiar.
Maybe Wave 51 is an invitation to simply breathe, to pause, to be present, and to notice what you’ve been feeding your heart.
Not with judgment or guilt, but with honesty.
Because we can become so used to surviving on the fragments of love we’ve learned to accept that we forget what a fresh, nourishing relationship feels like.
🌊 What have you been reaching for that feels familiar, but no longer nourishes your heart?
– TodayWaves
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