Some days grief sits with you all day. You wake up with it. You carry it through the afternoon. You wake up in the middle of the night with it. You think about people you miss. You think about what used to be. You think about opportunities that are gone. You think about family, friendships, and seasons that have changed. Can I be honest? Grief was speaking too loud to me when I thought too much: -About my Mom. -My Dad sitting in a nursing home. -Missed opportunities w

There are moments when I pick up the pen to write and I bleed on the page. And I know I am not alone in the moments when my soul is tired. Not because I stopped believing. Not because I stopped loving Jesus. Not because I took my eyes off Him. I just felt tired in my soul. The kind of tired where you still know God is good. You still know He provides. You still know He shows up. You still know Jesus is enough. And still… Your soul aches for a calm in the storm. Just somewhere

There is something about depth that comes from low places. There is something about digging that changes a person. People who have never had to go down into trenches often do not understand what it feels like to be there. Not because they are bad people. Sometimes they simply have never been low enough to recognize the terrain. There are places in life that humble you. Places where survival is not theory anymore. Places where strength runs out. Places where you stop prete

This is not the end of the story. I survived, but survival was never the destination. Victory is not pretending life never hurt. It is learning how to rise when it did. It is not about never falling down. It is learning how to wipe your feet and keep walking. Learning. Growing. Becoming mature. Returning again and again to who God created me to be before life marked me. Still Rising is not denial of struggle. Some seasons hurt deeply. Some pits feel impossible to climb out of

There was a time I thought the struggle was the story. The struggle is real. The battle is real. The pain is real. But I do not think that anymore. Overcoming is real. Yesterday I lost an hour. Not twenty one days. Not weeks in bed. Not months buried under darkness. One hour. One hour where grief, exhaustion, guilt, loneliness, pressure, old wounds, and disappointment all collided inside of me. One hour where I wanted out. Not out of life. Out of pressure. Out of carrying. Ou

There isn’t a rope long enough to pull me out of this despair. One reaches for me only to tighten around my neck, stealing breath from weary places. But there is another Hand. A Hand that reaches lower than the pit I have fallen into. A Hand with eyes fixed upon me in my lowest moments, casting care, holding weight I was never meant to carry. My body lies still, waiting for strength to force another day forward, while fighting internal battles no one can see. Not depression.