There was a time in my life
when I did not think
I would make it out alive.
Yet God keeps lifting me from the dust.
Truly.
Steadily.
This is my Heavenly Father’s faithfulness.
Despite every attempt the enemy uses to silence me,
to place obstacles along my path,
God continues to make a way
when no way seems possible.
I am on my knees with gratitude and praise—humbled.
Admitting I know nothing,
apart from this:
He is God,
and I am His to keep.
This has become enough.
From here into eternity,
I don’t want to breathe another breath
or take another step
without Him leading my feet
to walk where He has chosen.
I cling to His peace
like a child holding her father’s hand.
He is my rock.
My refuge.
My safe place.
All my trust is in Him.
This season of uncertainty
is deepening my faith and hope.
The deeper I surrender every detail to Him,
the more He shows me His power—
moving obstacles,
creating pathways
where none should exist.
His strength cannot be overcome.
There are layers to this.
Layers to living simply.
Layers to surrender.
Layers to being still.
Layers to deepening my trust and faith.
God has allowed my health to decline in ways
that have kept me from overworking,
overgiving,
overextending.
This is humility.
Another layer of dying to myself—
my ego,
my impatience,
my pride.
Just when I think I’ve reached my limit,
I am taught again.
Something is pruned.
Something is moulded.
Something falls away.
Pieces of self-sufficiency
no longer needed.
Through weakness
that humbles me again.
“But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.’”
[2 Corinthians 12:9 NKJV]
The closer I think I am
to understanding my purpose,
the more I realize—
I am not meant to control this.
This life must be lived in real time,
without grasping,
without needing to know.
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart,
And lean not on your own understanding;
In all your ways acknowledge Him,
And He shall direct your paths.”
[Proverbs 3:5–6 NKJV]
His thoughts are higher than mine.
And somehow—
even through tragedy,
His ways remain good.
And I feel this now—
deeply.
There is something stirring within me…
a quiet knowing
that I truly do not know
what lies ahead.
And I am learning
that I don’t need to.
None of it would make sense anyway.
The more simply I live,
the less I need.
The deeper I go into His Word,
the more I crave His leadership—
His tenderness.
I used to ask Him,
“Why do You keep letting me live?”
Now I find myself saying,
“I stand in awe
of how much You love and care for me.
And somehow…
You understand my heartache completely.”
My very best
is nothing compared to His provision.
And when I try too hard—
when I start moving outside of His leading—
He stops me.
Sometimes quickly.
Sometimes through my body.
Through weakness
that humbles me again.
I look around, stunned.
And then I remember—
confusion is not from Him.
His comfort is.
The kind that settles
without striving.
The kind that allows my breath to regulate—
turning gasps
into peace.
This is what I am learning to follow.
Even when I forget.
Even when I have to be reminded again.
Which clearly
I always seem to need.
There was a time I believed
writing publicly would be dangerous.
That it would cost me my life.
“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and of good courage; do not be afraid, nor be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”
[Joshua 1:9 NKJV]
Now I see it differently.
Writing is not rebellion.
It is obedience.
It is worship.
It is art.
Every word feels like something
I hand back to Him.
The healing happening within me
is something I cannot fully explain.
But it is real.
“He heals the brokenhearted
And binds up their wounds.”
[Psalm 147:3 NKJV]
It is happening
in my breaking,
with every offering,
and each time I show up
without giving up.
Even here—
at the edge of my faith.
I still ask Him:
If I let myself be seen…
will You stay with me?
If I speak…
will You protect me?
I may never hear an audible answer.
But I feel Him.
In my body.
In my breath.
In the quiet places within me.
He has never failed to catch me.
Not once.
“For He will deliver the needy when he cries,
The poor also, and him who has no helper.
He will spare the poor and needy,
And will save the souls of the needy.”
[Psalm 72:12–13 NKJV]
I’m not where I was.
And I don’t even fully understand
how I got here.
I just know…
I don’t deserve any credit
for pulling myself out.
God found me in the dust
and lifted me out.
Again.
And again.
Faithfully.
Whether I knew it in the moment or not.
There are still days I feel it—
the weight,
the questions,
the memories that do not simply disappear.
Sometimes I gasp.
Other days,
I tremble.
More often than not,
I stand in awe and wonder.
Because I am not buried in darkness anymore.
Something has shifted.
Perhaps strongholds have broken away.
“He raises the poor out of the dust,
And lifts the needy out of the ash heap.”
[Psalm 113:7 NKJV]
And I can’t stay quiet about that.
Because if He did this for me—
in the places I thought
would be the end of me—
then I’m quite certain…
He’s not finished
where you are either.
“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
And through the rivers, they shall not overflow you.
When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned,
Nor shall the flame scorch you.”
[Isaiah 43:2 NKJV]
With you in the surrender—
and in His holy nearness
that restores.
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