The Still Small Voice

Sharing my journey navigating faith, motherhood, friendships, and singleness

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    Abiding Joy

    Perhaps the most profound joy we can experience comes in the midst of our deepest pain. Only then are we truly able to surrender—our expectations, our dreams, our longing for control—as we free fall into the grace of God.

    Let us thank Him for being a good Father. For wanting good things for His children.
    Let us praise Him even when our world feels upside down.
    Let us trust Him, even in the valley of the shadow of death, or fear, or grief, or loss.

    “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning.”
    — Lamentations 3:22–23

    Never forget: He is good and full of mercy. He is King of Kings and Lord of Lords, Creator of heaven and earth, Jehovah Rapha—the God who heals.

    He can take a heart of stone and make it flesh again.
    He brings beauty from ashes.
    The rainbow after the storm.

    Fear not. What can mere man do to you?

    Jesus said, “Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the Kingdom.”

    No matter our circumstances, no matter what fiery trials we walk through, may we have the courage to surrender and to rest in our good Father.

    And may we rise above whatever we face that feels frightening or unknown.
    Amen.

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    Navigating Heartbreak

    Lately, my heart hurts. For the first time in years, I gave my heart away. When the relationship ended, my hope felt shattered.

    The first couple weeks after it ended, every morning when I woke up, I felt sick. The first month, I was overwhelmed with grief.

    Because I fell in love. Because I felt seen, known, and chosen. Because I thought, for a little while, that maybe God was writing a new love story for me.

    I am sad that it didn’t work out. I am sad that I lost someone I cared about so deeply.

    A friend recently told me, “You have done so much work on yourself. You’re capable of loving in a way you never were before.” This insight brings me comfort. I know my heart is open and capable of giving immense love.

    Despite my profound sadness, I am proud of my growth. I haven’t reverted to unhealthy coping mechanisms to deal with the pain. This is progress, and I take solace in it.

    All of this has caused me to reflect on my life. Recently, while traveling, I was riding a ferry boat and saw an elderly couple standing at the prow of the deck. The husband embraced his wife, his arms wrapped around her as they gazed at the sea. My heart ached with longing. I thought, I want someone to grow old with. When will I finally find my person?

    Traveling solo with my son brings reminders of my singleness. On our return flight home, there was a 90-minute delay at the luggage drop that almost caused us to miss our flight. I heaved 150 pounds of luggage while pushing a three-year-old in a stroller through a mile-long, winding line to reach the conveyor belt. I found my blood pressure rising as I kept checking the time on my phone.

    Finally, after we checked the bag, there were less than ten minutes until our plane was to board. The TSA security line snaked endlessly around the airport, threatening another two-hour wait. Then, I spotted a sign that read “Clear ID.” Desperately, I approached a woman working there and asked if this would help us get through security more quickly. After a retinal scan and fingerprinting, we were set but still faced a wait.

    Just then, an employee noticed my struggle with the stroller and luggage. “I got you,” he said with a reassuring smile. “I’m a dad; I get it.” He took the stroller with purpose, guiding us toward the front of the line. Tears welled up in my eyes and spilled over. I was overwhelmed with gratitude. Someone had noticed. Someone cared. Someone helped. Relief washed over me as I realized we wouldn’t miss our flight and be stranded at the airport.

    Embarrassed by my tears, I quickly slid off my boots and placed our bags on the conveyor belt for X-ray. After gathering our things, we made a mad dash to the gate. Pushing the stroller, balancing two carry-on bags, a purse, and a backpack, I kept glancing at the time. The sign at the gate said “Final Boarding” as we approached. We hurried down the sky bridge, collapsed the stroller, and hefted the bags into the overhead compartment with a heavy thud. Finally, we sank into our seats, exhausted but immensely relieved.

    It is in moments like those that I long for a partner to share life with—someone to stand at the prow of life with me, co-captaining our ship through calm and stormy seas alike.

    Through this season of aloneness, my trust remains steadfast in God. I hold onto His promises, believing in His goodness and wisdom. I trust that He knows the desires of my heart and that He will provide everything I long for and everything I need.

    “Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.” -Psalm 27:14

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    Beauty from Ashes

    Even amidst the wreckage of life’s disasters, whether caused by our own choices or imposed upon us by a world that so often seems unfair, God always provides a saving grace.

    This grace might show up in our lives in the form of a sweet animal companion, an unexpected gift, a phone call at just the right time, or affirmation from a friend. There is goodness amidst the difficult. There is still joy to be found every single day.

    Life is not a fairy tale, but there is redemption.

    We may fall after taking a leap of faith, but sometimes our landing breaks us in a way that leads to healing.

    And, after chaos rages, we can look to heaven and find revival in the stillness.

    For it is out of the ashes of broken dreams, that beauty emerges, like the dawning of the sun.

    “I will give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness, that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that He might be glorified.” – Isaiah 61:3

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    Accepting Disappointment

    One of the most challenging circumstances in life is facing the reality of our powerlessness. In some cases, we have a great deal of agency, yet in others, we must simply accept defeat. This can be incredibly painful.

    Once a decision is made, we can’t convince a boss to hire us. Or a school program to admit us.

    Sometimes, our bodies go rogue, and we may feel we are losing control of our health. We also can’t convince a partner to make it work—to stay.

    Scriptures say, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick” (Proverbs 13:12). Scriptures also say, “Those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”

    Some days, I grow weary—I ask God why my hopes are lifted momentarily, with what feels like the sun’s rising—only for a dark cloud to unleash a torrential downpour and darken the light again.

    In all such circumstances, God tells us to trust Him, even when nothing makes sense, even when we feel tired, disappointed, and powerless: “No weapon forged against you will prevail” (Isaiah 54).

    God is a just and loving God. He understands our pain intensely and is deeply invested in our hearts.

    He asks that we remember He is on the throne and trust that He will tend to and bind up our hearts for His own glory–because He is a good and mighty God: “I am the LORD, the God of all mankind. Is anything too hard for me?” (Jer. 32:27).

    Trust Him, forgive others, and do not be afraid. Forge ahead bravely and know that God is the lover of your soul, and your heart is always safe with Him.

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    How Can We Know God Is Real?

    If you’re grappling with this question, I want to say upfront: it’s not my aim to convince you through a theological treatise or scientific argument that God exists. I cannot use the powers of rhetoric at my disposal to force belief.

    I’ve observed that many people resist belief in God not because of evidence, but because accepting His existence would be irreconcilable with the way they live, and they’re content with that life.

    But if you’re not content—if you find yourself doubting, wrestling, questioning—then I want you to know: you’re not alone.

    I’ve walked through seasons of deep skepticism, even cynicism. I’ve stared at the Creation account and wondered, Is this just a folktale? I’ve asked the same hard questions many have asked:

    • If God is omniscient, then why this?
    • If He’s omnipotent, then why that?
    • If He’s good, then how could He allow any of it?

    And yet, in the midst of all that questioning, I have also encountered a deep and unshakable truth: ou will know God is real when you open your eyes and your heart and allow Him to show you.

    He is there.

    He is there in Scripture, in words so ancient and piercing they feel carved into the soul.

    He is in the natural world—in the elegant precision of the universe and its immutable laws.

    He is in the kind of love that defies human instinct: radical and self-sacrificial.

    He is in the Spirit, whispering through conviction, through longing, through the kind of coincidences that defy probability.

    In my own life, I have experienced this firsthand. When I walk in alignment with Him, I find peace—even when my circumstances are far from peaceful:

    “You make known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence.” — Psalm 16:11

    When I’ve turned from Him, I’ve known the ache of separation, the consequences of my own self-will:

    “Your iniquities have separated you from your God.” — Isaiah 59:2

    But thank God for grace. Thank God that His mercies are new every morning and the He never gives up on us, even when we’ve given up on Him.

    God is real.
    God loves you.
    God knows every hair on your head and every longing in your soul.

    And He invites you not to religion but to relationship, to a life of wholeness and peace: “I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you.” — Psalm 32:8

    All it takes to begin is one small, quiet step of faith.