Kalen Olson On The Love That Stays, the Grace That Frees, the God Who Holds

On a cold day in November 2017, I had a choice — to keep living as though I were separate from God, or to move with God in every area of my life. The journey wouldn’t be easy, but it would be worth it. Little by little, I began walking it — until I realised it wasn’t me making the journey at all, but God calling me home. The same gentle whisper that calls each of us to remember our unending innocence and the inheritance we’ve been promised: Love.

It began with a crash, the sound of life rearranging itself. I could feel something big coming. As much as I wanted to prepare, it wasn’t preparation that was being asked of me — it was surrender.

In a world obsessed with climbing ladders, I was being asked to fall — into God’s grace. It was not a time to hold tighter, but to release. Like autumn leaves that let go when the air cools, I was being asked to trust that life has always held me, even in the falling.

When doctors told me my dad had two weeks to live after a long battle with leukaemia, I could hardly breathe. There was nowhere to run. I had to face death head-on. Yet in what seemed like hopelessness, love began to emerge. Instead of counting down his days, I began counting the moments of joy. We remembered stories, laughed through tears, and I realised — no matter the circumstance — love is never missing.

Until then, I’d relied on my own strength to survive hardship. My prayers were commands more than surrender: God, I’m going here, please support me. I hadn’t yet learned that I wasn’t in charge. At the time, I was teaching and terrified to leave my students on bereavement leave. But grace had other plans. A colleague reached out and offered his lesson plans. Friends and family surrounded me with love. It wasn’t luck — it was proof that we are always held by something bigger than us.

What seems like challenge is often an invitation: How big is the God we believe in? If God is smaller than our circumstances, we’ve forgotten about love. But if God is mysterious, infinite, and always greater than our understanding, then love becomes the only constant in a sea of change.

This time of year, amidst so much change, God invites us back to the heart — to remember that God is always at work. Even the hardest seasons can be blessings in disguise. The heart doesn’t yearn for more ladders to climb; it ripples out through ecosystems of love. According to Pema Chödrön, “things come together and fall apart”, and the constant underneath it all is love.

Lately, God’s been teaching me to be uncompromising in this realisation — that love is the only constant. My ego resists, but each surrender brings peace. Even in the smallest moments, the lesson deepens.

This morning, I came home to find our dog had torn through the rubbish — think Christmas Vacation kitchen vibes, haha. Anger arose in me instantly. My mind reached for blame as a means of control. Then I remembered a teaching from A Course in Miracles: Only what you are not giving can be lacking in any situation. I placed my hand on my heart and asked what I truly needed. Patience. Pulling from Marshall Rosenberg’s Nonviolent Communication list of needs, I found beneath that — harmony and order.

I sat on the bed, breathing slowly, asking God to help me find those qualities of patience, harmony, and order. A calm returned as I picked up the pieces. Harmony and order had been restored — not by blame, but by love. Peace wasn’t out there; it was something I extended to my circumstances and had reflected back to me.

It can be tempting to believe people must change for us to feel peace or God’s love. But the good news is we can remember God’s love in any situation. I continue deepening with this lesson.

This is the work of a spiritual warrior — to meet life as it is and choose love. When we tend to our inner ecosystems with care, we become light for others when the world feels dark. Giving what we most need transforms every moment into an act of love.

When you feel unseen, ask God to slow you down so you can truly see the other person. When you need patience, ask for patience — and then give it. The act itself affirms that nothing is missing in you or in an abundant universe. You are already complete in Love.

Autumn is a season of letting go — the trees reminding us that release is not loss, but renewal. We are in a shedding year, a time to let go of what no longer serves. Releasing doesn’t mean we failed; it means we did our best with the awareness we had. Letting go makes space in the heart to welcome the new and to feel the quiet, joyous celebration of what is.

Instead of piling more on to feel full, consider lightening the load of any self-judgement to make room for what matters most: Love.

This holiday season, pause and notice what feels heavy. Ask God to give you what you think you need and share those qualities from the heart. Because you lack nothing, life reflects this fullness of love. Who benefits most from loving? You, dearest one.

Love is never gone. Love knocks on the door of those who are ready to remember: in the end, it was all a dance of grace.