Scripture — Joel 2:25 KJV
“And I will restore to you the years that the locust hath eaten…”
Welcome back to 31 Days of Prayer for Estranged Family and Friends—a journey of surrender, healing, forgiveness, and restoration.
Yesterday, we prayed:
“Father, turn our hearts toward one another.”
Today, we’re going to bring God something that can be especially painful in estrangement:
The lost years.
Maybe your estrangement has lasted months.
Maybe years.
Maybe even decades.
And sometimes the grief isn’t only:
“I miss them.”
It’s:
“Look at everything we’ve missed.”
Birthdays.
Holidays.
Weddings.
Grandchildren.
Family dinners.
Phone calls.
Ordinary Tuesday afternoons.
All those little moments that should have become memories…
but didn’t.
Today’s Scripture comes from Joel 2:25:
“And I will restore to you the years that the locust hath eaten…”
Today we’re going to bring God the years we cannot get back and pray:
“Father, redeem what has been lost.”
We Cannot Go Back
There’s something we need to acknowledge honestly today.
We cannot turn back the clock.
If five years have passed, we cannot physically relive those five years.
We cannot go back and attend the birthday we missed.
We cannot have the conversation we would have had three Christmases ago.
And sometimes that realization carries tremendous grief.
Especially for parents separated from their children.
You may think:
“I’ve missed so much of their life.”
Or maybe you’re separated from a parent and wondering how many years you still have.
That can create urgency.
Fear.
Even panic.
And fear may whisper:
“You have to fix this now because you’re running out of time.”
But we’ve learned throughout this journey not to let fear become our guide.
We can grieve lost time…
without allowing lost time to make us desperate.
Restoration Isn’t the Same as Recreating the Past
When God says:
“I will restore to you the years…”
it doesn’t mean the past never happened.
The book of Joel describes devastating loss.
The destruction was real.
But destruction wasn’t going to have the final word.
And maybe that’s what we need to hear today.
Loss does not have to have the final word.
If God restores a relationship, He doesn’t need to recreate every missed moment to bring something beautiful from the years ahead.
Maybe you missed years of conversations.
But perhaps one day you’ll sit together and talk for hours.
Maybe you missed holidays.
But perhaps there are future holidays waiting to become precious memories.
Maybe you weren’t there for part of someone’s story.
But perhaps God can give you grace to listen as they tell it.
Restoration doesn’t erase yesterday.
It gives us a different way to walk into tomorrow.
Don’t Let Regret Steal the Years You Still Have
There’s another danger with lost years.
We can become so consumed by what we missed that we fail to appreciate what God gives us now.
Imagine reconciliation finally comes.
But instead of enjoying the relationship, every conversation becomes:
“I’m so sorry we lost all that time.”
“I can’t believe you weren’t here.”
“Why did this take so long?”
There may certainly be a time to grieve together.
There may be conversations about what happened.
But if God gives us something new, we don’t want yesterday’s grief to consume tomorrow’s gift.
If the door opens…
walk through it looking forward too.
Release the Timeline
Maybe reconciliation hasn’t happened yet.
And you’re looking at today’s devotional thinking:
“But we’re losing more time every day.”
I understand why that thought hurts.
But remember Day 24:
Know when to reach out.
And Day 25:
Rebuild trust slowly.
Fear of losing time can tempt us to rush a process that actually needs patience.
We might think:
“We’ve already lost five years! We don’t have time to rebuild slowly!”
But healthy restoration can’t be forced simply because we’re grieving the clock.
So today we’re going to surrender something else:
the timeline.
“Father, I wish this had happened sooner.
I wish things were different.
But I will not let regret about yesterday cause me to mishandle today.”
Returning to Our Garden
Let’s look again at our echinacea and mustard.
The echinacea reminds us of healing.
The mustard reminds us of faith.
But today I want you to look for something on one of your plants that tells its history.
Maybe an old leaf has died.
Maybe there’s a stem that was damaged.
Maybe something didn’t grow the way you hoped.
A gardener doesn’t stand over that old leaf forever saying:
“If only.”
We tend what is still alive.
We prune when necessary.
We nourish the soil.
We look for new growth.
And we trust God with the season ahead.
Maybe there have been barren seasons in this relationship.
You cannot change them.
But you can pray:
“Father, let something beautiful grow in the season ahead.”
Today’s Action — The Lost Years Page
Take out your journal and write:
“Father, I give You the years I cannot get back.”
Then, if you feel able, write down some of the things you grieve.
A birthday.
A holiday.
A graduation.
A birth.
A conversation.
Ordinary time together.
Don’t stay there too long.
Acknowledge the loss.
Then underneath that list write:
“But the story isn’t finished.”
And below that:
“Father, help me faithfully receive whatever good You place in the years ahead.”
You might even leave the rest of that page blank.
Let the empty space represent:
The memories that haven’t been written yet.
Today’s Prayer
Let’s pray.
Heavenly Father,
Your Word says:
“And I will restore to you the years that the locust hath eaten.”
Father, today I bring You the time that has been lost between __________ and me.
You know every day we’ve been apart.
Every birthday.
Every holiday.
Every milestone.
Every conversation that never happened.
Every memory we didn’t get to make.
You know how much that hurts.
And Father, sometimes I wish I could go backward.
I wish I could change things.
I wish I could recover every moment.
But I cannot.
So today…
I give You the years I cannot get back.
I give You my regret.
I give You my grief.
I give You the questions about what might have been.
I give You the moments I replay.
And I give You the fear that we’re running out of time.
Father, don’t let regret about yesterday make me anxious about tomorrow.
Don’t let the fear of losing more time cause me to force something that needs patience.
Help me trust Your wisdom.
If You restore this relationship, teach us to treasure the time You give us.
Help us not spend every new moment mourning the old ones.
Give us grace to make new memories.
Have new conversations.
Laugh again.
Learn who one another has become.
And appreciate the ordinary moments we once took for granted.
Father, where there has been barrenness…
bring fruit.
Where there has been grief…
bring joy.
Where there has been distance…
make a way.
Where years have been lost…
bring restoration according to Your wisdom and Your will.
And if restoration looks different than I imagined, help me recognize Your goodness without demanding that You recreate the past.
I cannot rewrite yesterday.
But I trust You with tomorrow.
Give me mustard-seed faith to believe that even after a long barren season…
new growth is still possible.
I place the past in Your hands.
I place today in Your hands.
And I place every year still ahead of us in Your hands.
In the name of Jesus Christ,
Amen.
Before we finish today, look once more at our garden.
Maybe there are leaves that have fallen.
Maybe some growth didn’t survive.
Maybe the garden carries evidence of difficult weather and difficult seasons.
But look carefully.
There is still life.
The echinacea reminds us that wounds can heal.
The mustard reminds us that even tiny faith can keep believing.
And the garden reminds us:
One difficult season does not determine every season that follows.
We cannot return to yesterday.
But God is already present in tomorrow.
So today, don’t stare so long at the empty spaces in your story that you miss the pages still waiting to be written.
Grieve what was lost.
Give it to God.
And then leave a little room in your heart for the possibility of new memories.
Plant the prayer. Tend your heart. Release the lost years. Treasure the time God gives you. And trust Him with the seasons still to come.
And as always,
may your roots grow deep and your spirit stay nourished.
God bless you, and I’ll see you tomorrow.
