God is love. A love unending, great, pure, and true. To love God is to love myself. And to love myself is to love others. There’s something magical that happens in love. That’s why, despite all of our ‘failed attempts’ at love, we still seek it and yearn for it. Deep down, we all know that without love, we are nothing.
I realized I needed to go back to 2024, to begin again. But when I tried, I encountered resistance—big resistance. Something stood in the way. And yet, through it all, I held tighter to the steady thread, the one with God holding the other end.
These fears have been swirling around in my head for a while, but I hadn’t taken the time to name them. And as I was writing them out, something amazing happened—they started to dissipate. Fear isn’t from God—it’s something that tries to hold me back from the bold, courageous steps I’ve been called to take.
You, My dear, were created in love, by love, for love, to love! Your life is unfolding. Allow it to unfold with ease and grace. Like a flower in bloom, so too, are you!
Here’s the simple truth: their healing is not your homework. What we can carry is discernment—the God-given ability to see their chaos for what it is without letting it derail our peace. Think of discernment as your spiritual GPS. It whispers when to reroute, when to slow down, and when to take the next exit entirely.
God, I thank You that I reserve the right to change my mind. I thank You that I am happy, healthy, healing, whole, and well. I thank You that with You, there’s nothing in this world I cannot do.
God’s answer to me lately has been one word: Move. Not move cities or move houses—just move. Physically. Take the walk. Stretch your legs. Get up! Jesus walked. He communed with His Father as He moved, and there’s something sacred and holy and divine about that. When I go on walking meditations, I hear God more clearly, more fully, more deeply. I see Him in the diversity of the leaves on the trees, in the falling leaves, in the rhythm of my steps, the chirping of birds, and in children’s laughter.
Shame has been a mother tongue because I was taught to be ashamed—ashamed of my body, my size, the fullness of my nose, the width of my hips, the gap in my teeth, the volume of my laughter, the chocolate brown of my skin, and the depths of my joy. But those very things I used to hate, those very parts of me I used to loathe, have become the parts I love the most.
Faith allowed you to ask. Work and action allowed you to have, to be, to do. Do, be, and have all you’ve ever dared ask Me for!
How amazing it is that even as I sleep, God is restoring my body, renewing my mind, and whispering divine truths to my soul! Lord, teach me to trust You more deeply, more fully, more widely. Help me to rest in the peace of Your presence and to embrace the lessons You weave into my life, whether they come through moments of clarity or quiet reflection or loud clangs of cymbals.
