A Kiss from Rose | Extra Dose: The Apologies Will Come

There are some apologies you should never have had to wait for.

Some of you have been carrying the weight of words that were never spoken. You were hurt, abandoned, mistreated, overlooked, lied on, lied to, neglected, betrayed, or simply handled in a way you did not deserve. And somewhere in your heart, you have wondered, Will they ever acknowledge what they did to me? Will they ever say they’re sorry? Will I ever get the closure I deserve?

I want you to hear this: the apologies will come.

They may not come when you want them. They may not come in the way you imagined. Sometimes an apology comes with tears, trembling hands, and the words, “I was wrong. You did not deserve that. I knew better, and I should have done better. I hope you and God can forgive me.”

And sometimes the apology comes differently.

Sometimes it comes through silence. Through distance. Through somebody finally removing themselves because deep down they know what they did. Sometimes the apology is hidden inside changed behavior, a humbled spirit, or a person finally realizing that the way they treated you cost them access to you.

Every apology will not arrive wrapped beautifully.

But truth has a way of finding its way to the surface.

So if you are the one waiting, don’t spend your whole life standing at the door looking for somebody to knock. Keep living. Keep healing. Keep praying. Keep becoming whole. Don’t let somebody else’s delayed accountability become a delay in your own peace.

God can give you peace before they ever find the courage to say, “I’m sorry.”

And now, Grandma has to talk to the other side of the room.

If you owe somebody an apology, stop waiting.

Stop blaming pride. Stop blaming time. Stop telling yourself, “That was years ago.” Time passing does not automatically repair what you broke.

You cannot keep asking God to forgive you while refusing to acknowledge the people you wounded.

You cannot pray for blessings over your life while knowingly leaving hurt everywhere you have been.

You cannot demand apologies from other people while acting as though you have never owed one yourself.

Maybe you were an absent mother or father.

Maybe you were the aunt, uncle, sister, brother, husband, wife, girlfriend, boyfriend, best friend, or family member who should have been there and wasn’t.

Maybe you sat at the same tables, prayed together, celebrated birthdays together, watched their children grow up, laughed in their homes, ate their food, shared their memories—and still never addressed the hurt sitting quietly between you.

How do we sit beside people for years and never become present enough to recognize their pain?

How do we say we love somebody but refuse to have the conversation that love requires?

How do we ask God for mercy while withholding accountability?

Sometimes we become so comfortable pretending nothing happened that we convince ourselves we did nothing wrong.

It was their fault.

They’re too sensitive.

They misunderstood me.

That was a long time ago.

Everybody makes mistakes.

Yes, everybody makes mistakes.

But mature people own theirs.

An apology does not make you weak.

An apology does not erase your dignity.

An apology does not mean the other person was perfect.

It simply means you are humble enough to say, “What I did hurt you, and I take responsibility for my part.”

Sometimes the apology is for something enormous.

Sometimes it is as simple as, “Excuse me, I stepped on your foot.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shut the door in your face.”

“Pardon me.”

“I was wrong.”

Respect lives in the little things, too.

So, whether the apology is owed because of childhood wounds, broken families, failed relationships, friendships that fell apart, abandonment, betrayal, harsh words, neglect, or one careless moment between strangers—accountability still matters.

And if you are waiting on an apology, don’t allow impatience to turn your heart bitter.

If it comes, receive it in whatever way protects your peace.

Remember: forgiveness does not always mean reconciliation. An apology does not automatically restore access. Closure does not always mean reopening the door.

You can forgive and still have boundaries.

You can accept an apology and still move forward separately.

You can hear “I’m sorry” and decide that your healing requires distance.

And if you are the one apologizing, understand something else: a sincere apology does not demand forgiveness on your timetable.

You apologize because it is right.

You apologize because you have grown.

You apologize because somebody deserves to hear you acknowledge what you did.

Then you allow them the freedom to decide what healing looks like for them.

None of us should walk through this life believing everybody owes us something while refusing to look at what we owe others.

Sometimes you are waiting for an apology.

Sometimes you are the apology somebody else

has been waiting for.

Ask yourself tonight:

Who hurt me that I still need to release?

And just as importantly—

Who did I hurt that I still need to make things right with?

Because peace sometimes comes from hearing the words.

And sometimes peace comes from finally having the courage to say them.

The apologies will come.

And when your moment comes—whether you are receiving one or giving one—may you have enough grace to recognize it, enough wisdom to handle it, and enough humility to let healing begin.

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