Endurance isn’t passive. It’s active. It’s faith in motion. It’s knowing that even when I was failing chemistry exams, even when I doubted my ability, even when I thought I wasn’t smart enough—God already knew I would make it. And I did. Not because I was the strongest or the fastest, but because I refused to quit.
I made it through because I always make it through! I am resiliency personified. As I look back at a journal entry from June 2024, I am stunned by the growth. Tears well and fill my eyes because, holy moly, I can’t believe this is my life! This is the life God and I co-created this year.
And for too many of us, they turned into self-hatred so deep, so consuming, that it felt like an unbearable truth. But what if I told you that everything you’ve believed about yourself—the shame, the doubt, the fear—was never true? What if I told you that you were made in love, by love, for love, to love? That the world doesn’t get the final say—God does?
I am healed, and I am healing still. I am recovered, and I am recovering still. I am nourished, and I am nourishing still. Thank You, God, that I serve the God who says, ‘I Am That I Am.’ And because I know that, I know that I AM, TOO.
May we flow in Your grace, knowing that You created us 70% water and 100% capable. With You, nothing is impossible, and in You, we are victorious. It’s already done. Amen.
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’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.
