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.
Reflecting on the moment when the impossible happened, I’m amazed by how often we dismiss what we can’t explain. Guarding your heart isn’t about withholding but about creating space for God’s timing to unfold. There’s a season for every revelation, and not every thought or plan is ready to bloom just yet.
When I listen, God speaks to my innermost being, to my interstitial spaces. When I obey and act by faith, God moves big and bold on my behalf.
The only way to truly do this wrong is to not do it at all. So here I am, taking my own advice—showing up, even if it’s imperfect. Because what’s the alternative? To keep my thoughts to myself, trapped by the idea that I need to fit into some imaginary mold? As my nephew used to say at the beautiful, ripe, polite age of 2, ‘No, thank you, please!’
“Your will and mine be one,” I prayed! I didn’t know what I was praying for exactly, but I knew it’d be good. And yet again, here you are doing exceedingly and abundantly!”
Grief goes where I put it, just like anything else. When I set my water bottle or keys down and can’t find them later, they’re lost. But grief is different. Sometimes it’s exactly where I left it. Other times, I wonder, ‘Where did my grief go?’ and feel like I’ve lost it. So now, I choose where to place my grief.
