Open-Handed Living: When God Asks Us to Let Go and Make Room for Something New

Five years ago, I gave away my beloved upright piano. I had played it for years, but we were preparing to move, and I wasn't playing it as often anymore. Rather than move it with us, I advertised it for free to anyone willing to pick it up. I was away when a couple came to get it, and I remember feeling a little sad when it was gone. After we moved, I bought a keyboard and began playing again. Over time, though, I played less and less. I didn't know then that God was quietly writing another chapter in the story of that piano.

In time, we hired a wonderful woman to work for our business. I knew her as a worship leader at a local church, but I didn't know the painful story unfolding in her life. Her husband eventually filed for divorce, and she found herself starting over alone in a tiny apartment. One day, she told me through tears that her husband had moved her beloved piano into their front yard—left outside for anyone to take. She couldn't afford to have it moved. And then it rained. The piano was ruined. I was heartbroken for her.

A few months later, I felt God prompting me to give her my piano keyboard. I surprised her with it, and she was overjoyed. Then she told me something I never could have imagined: It was my original upright piano that her husband had picked up from our old home years earlier and eventually left to be destroyed. Somehow, without knowing it, I had given this same woman two pianos—one five years ago when I thought I was simply letting go, and another when I saw that she was hurting.

I can't help but see God's fingerprints in this story. Both of us have experienced loss and transition, and both of us have grieved the destruction of something we loved. Yet I wonder if the story was never really about the pianos. Perhaps it was about learning to let go—and trusting God with what happens next.

My husband Pete and I are now in a similar season. Our home and our business are both for sale, and after nearly 30 years of running our business, we are preparing to release a huge part of the life we've known. At the same time, we both feel increasingly called to a new chapter: To help Christians grow in their walk with Jesus, build deeper relationships through discipleship and small groups, and encourage people to live out their God-given calling.

We're also feeling a strong desire to simplify. We want to downsize, let go of things we don't need, and create more margin in our lives. We've learned that sometimes our possessions, responsibilities, and even our dreams can become so heavy that they leave little room to breathe. We want to live more simply—not because "stuff" is inherently bad, but because we want more freedom to focus on what matters most: Faith, relationships, wellness, service, purpose, and calling. And we want to help others do the same—to simplify their lives in ways that reduce stress, create margin, support healing, and make room for the meaningful work God may be calling them to do.

I don't know where our home, our business, or even our own lives will end up—but I trust the One who does. And if the story of two pianos has taught me anything, it's this:

When we release what we have into God's hands, we can trust Him with both the letting go and whatever comes next.

Sometimes, in the middle of our deepest losses, God is quietly preparing something we cannot yet see. Sometimes He comforts us through the most unexpected people and circumstances. And sometimes, years later, we look back and realize that what felt like an ending was actually part of a new story just beginning.

Perhaps that's the invitation God is giving us in this season:

To let go with open hands, to make room for what He has next, and to trust that even in our pain and uncertainty, He is still caring for us in ways we don't yet understand.

(Reprinted from a blog posted on my author's website at https://julie353.wixsite.com/juliemaymorrill/blog )