A Rising Remnant

Tag: healing

  • Insecurity vs. God: Who Defines Me?

    Insecurity vs. God: Who Defines Me?

    The Question That Shifted Everything

    I’ve been realizing lately that insecurity is still one of the biggest stumbling blocks in my walk with Christ. It keeps me from fully stepping into who He has called me to be.

    I was journaling recently, and the question I asked myself was, “Why do I still struggle with worrying about what people think of me?”

    And I noticed a common theme that was coming up in my answers… I still care so much because I fear I’ll end up alone.

    When Circumstances Speak Louder Than Truth

    A lot of times, I make God seem small because I get hyper-focused on everything I don’t have but wish I did. That focus alone can leave me feeling everything but good. But here’s the truth: even though that little voice in my head wants me to believe my feelings define reality, I know God says otherwise.

    On the outside, it may look like lack, but I trust He’s working behind the scenes of my life, bringing all things together for my good (Romans 8:28). One day, He’ll get the glory, and I’ll be able to look back and say, “God was always working.”

    Friendship and Romance Are Connected

    What I’m starting to notice is that the same insecurities I feel in friendship are the very ones that show up when I think about romantic relationships. It’s connected.

    If I fear rejection in friendships, I’ll carry that same fear into dating or marriage. If I base my worth on whether people stay or go, I’ll end up performing for approval or walking on eggshells just to keep someone close… whether it’s a friend or a partner.

    Relationships as a Reflection of Christ

    I’m learning that my earthly relationships… platonic or romantic, should always reflect my relationship with Christ. How I give love, how I receive it, and even how I respond to disappointment or rejection are mirrors of what’s happening in my walk with Him.

    When my identity and worth are rooted in God, I can love freely without fear. I can set healthy boundaries without guilt. And I can trust that whether a friend drifts away or a partner disappoints me, I’m still fully known, fully loved, and fully secure in Christ.

    The closer I walk with Him, the healthier my relationships become. Not because people are perfect, but because His love is perfect, and it flows through me into every connection I have.

    Rooted in Christ Alone

    But here’s the shift I’m learning to make: my identity has to remain in Christ, not in who accepts or rejects me.

    Because if my worth is rooted in Him, then even if someone disappoints me, I don’t lose myself in the process.

    That’s the freedom God’s inviting me into. To abide in Him so deeply that whether it’s friendships or a future relationship, I can show up whole, secure, and loved, because I already know who I am in Him.

    Closing Thoughts

    Maybe that’s the bigger picture. The very lessons God is teaching me in friendship are preparing me for love, too.

    He’s showing me that rejection doesn’t define me, circumstances don’t limit me, and insecurity doesn’t have the final word.

    God does.

    And if I keep my eyes on Him, I won’t just survive relationships, I’ll thrive in them.

    Because I’ll finally understand that I’m already chosen, already loved, and already secure in the One who never leaves.

    A Prayer

    Lord, help me to see myself the way

    You see me, loved, chosen, and

    enough. Teach me to abide in You so

    fully that no fear of rejection or

    disappointment can shake me. Help

    me walk confidently in friendships

    and relationships, showing up as the

    whole, secure person You created me

    to be. Protect my heart, guide my

    steps, and remind me that Your love

    is my anchor in every season.

    In Jesus Name, Amen.

  • What If the Thing You’re Praying For Showed Up Tomorrow?

    What If the Thing You’re Praying For Showed Up Tomorrow?

    A story about passivity, pain, and preparing for the very thing you say you want

    Let’s be real—waiting is not easy.

    Whether you’re waiting on healing, a relationship, a promise God gave you, or just some peace in the middle of the chaos… it can feel like you’re sitting in the middle of a silent storm, wondering if anything is actually shifting behind the scenes.

    When Waiting Starts to Feel Like Doing Nothing

    For a long time, I thought waiting meant doing nothing. Just sitting still, praying, and hoping something would change. And don’t get me wrong—sometimes, being still is obedience. But other times, we confuse stillness with passivity. We confuse rest with procrastination. We confuse patience with avoidance.

    And then we wonder why the promise still feels so far away.

    The Question That Shifted Everything

    At some point, I had to ask myself a hard question:

    “If the thing I’m waiting for showed up tomorrow… would I actually be ready for it?”

    The honest answer?

    No.

    Not mentally. Not emotionally. Not spiritually.

    I was asking for blessings I hadn’t even made room for.

    And that’s when I started to understand:

    That waiting is preparation.

    That waiting is where you become.

    I Thought I Was Trusting God… But I Was Just Passive

    But the truth is… I didn’t always see it that way.

    I used to expect God to do it all for me, just because I was hurting. But I had to learn, God will heal you, but He won’t baby your passivity. He’s not just the God of comfort. He’s also the God of callings. And callings require action.

    Passivity is bottling up emotions and pretending you’re fine when you really have questions, but instead you just go with the flow in hope of things getting better.

    For years, I thought I was waiting on God when I was really just being passive.

    I told myself I was trusting Him. I repeated all the right things: “God’s timing is perfect.” “He’ll come through.” But deep down, I wasn’t preparing for anything. I was sitting in fear, hoping something would just fall into place.

    If I’m being completely honest, I wasn’t moving. I wasn’t healing. I wasn’t growing. I was just stuck—mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

    How Passivity Affected My Faith

    And that passivity didn’t just slow down the things I was praying for… it strained my relationship with God too.

    I started to confuse His silence with rejection.

    I started assuming that maybe I wasn’t good enough, spiritual enough, or ready enough to be chosen.

    But what I’ve come to realize is… it wasn’t about worth.

    I simply wasn’t positioned.

    I wanted blessings I hadn’t made room for.

    I wanted breakthrough without breaking the cycles.

    I wanted to receive without being refined.

    It took me a while to see that sometimes we don’t need “more faith.”

    We need movement.

    We need obedience.

    We need to stop calling fear “patience.”

    Where the Passivity Came From

    But here’s what I had to dig into…

    This passive behavior didn’t come out of nowhere.

    It was formed in me. Layer by layer, experience by experience.

    Growing up, failure didn’t feel like something you learn from, it felt like punishment.

    So I learned early: Don’t try if you’re not sure. Don’t speak if it might stir something up. Don’t move unless you’re guaranteed a win. It felt safer to sit still than to risk being wrong.

    When Silence Becomes a Way of Life

    And honestly, I got used to not having a voice.

    Sometimes it was implied. Other times, I was just too scared to say what I really felt.

    So I stayed silent. I shrunk. I avoided. I waited.

    And over time, that waiting turned into hiding.

    Small Moments Can Make A Big Impact

    I’ll never forget this one moment in high school… I was on the basketball team. I wasn’t the best, but I kept showing up. One day, coach finally put me in a game.

    I was nervous. I wasn’t great at remembering the drills, and it showed. I messed up. Bad.

    The ball came my way and I dribbled it so hard and awkward that the other team snatched it. It felt like the gym turned against me. Coach pulled me right out of the game.

    I was so embarrassed, I just wanted to disappear.

    I never played again.

    I’ve laughed about that moment since, but if I’m honest…

    That one moment became a seed.

    It told me: “If you’re not already good at something, don’t even bother.”

    And I carried that into so many areas of my life… including my walk with God.

    What I Wasn’t Taught About Faith

    I wasn’t taught to wrestle with Him. I wasn’t taught that faith could include frustration or that questions could lead to deeper trust.

    I was taught to say “trust God” even when it didn’t look like it was working.

    I watched people declare promises over and over in church that never came and then watching them die with those promises still unfulfilled.

    That kind of disappointment stays with you.

    So I started believing that maybe… waiting was just spiritual language for nothing happening.

    Where the Passivity Really Came From

    The passivity didn’t come from laziness.

    It came from pain.

    From disappointment.

    From fearing that if I moved, I’d mess something up.

    From seeing people hope hard… and still be let down.

    But God… He’s Still Forming Me

    But here’s the part I hold on to now:

    God can un-form what fear formed.

    Passivity may have robbed me of time, but it hasn’t robbed me of purpose.

    God is still calling me. And this time, I’m not sitting still.

    Not because I have it all figured out, but because I know He does.

    What Preparation Really Looks Like

    Now, I’m learning that waiting doesn’t mean shrinking.

    Waiting doesn’t mean hiding.

    Waiting means preparing… actively, intentionally, faithfully.

    Sometimes preparation looks like therapy.

    Sometimes it’s forgiving people who didn’t ask for forgiveness and never said sorry.

    Sometimes it’s organizing your life, cleaning your space, taking care of your health, or building something God told you to build.

    Sometimes it’s just learning to rest and trust without checking the clock every five minutes.

    I’m Still in the Thick of It

    I’m still in the thick of it.

    Still learning.

    Still surrendering.

    Still untangling old beliefs and unhealthy mindsets.

    But I see now that God’s delays aren’t always denials, they’re divine developments.

    So Let Me Ask You What I Asked Myself…

    So if you’re in a season that feels quiet and like you’re in the-in-between, ask yourself the same question I had to face:

    If what you’re praying for showed up tomorrow… would you be ready for it?

    And if not, don’t shame yourself.

    Just start preparing.

    Not from a place of desperation or pressure.

    But from a place of hope.

    Because when the door opens, I want to walk through it whole

    not broken,

    not frantic,

    not faking it…

    but ready.

  • When You Want to Be Understood but Choose Peace Instead

    When You Want to Be Understood but Choose Peace Instead

    Because sometimes peace is louder than being right.

    Growing past the need to be right

    Let me be real… I love a good heart-to-heart. Like, I genuinely want to understand and be understood. I want resolution. I want clarity. I welcome challenges. I try to make sure I create a safe space for people to be vulnerable and heard. I want to walk away from conversations feeling like, “Yes, they saw me. They heard me. They got it.”

    But life doesn’t always give that back.

    Sometimes, after all the explaining, all the deep breaths, all the emotional preparing… you still feel unheard. Misread. Misunderstood.

    And let me tell you, that’s a hard pill to swallow. Especially when you’ve spent so much of your life not having a voice, or constantly having to defend it. When you’ve been silenced, overlooked, or brushed off in the past, feeling unheard now can feel like reopening a wound you thought was already healed.

    But here’s what I’m learning, slowly and painfully:

    Peace sometimes looks like walking away without the last word.

    It’s not that I don’t care. It’s not that I’ve given up. It’s that I’ve grown.

    Because growth says:

    “I don’t need to be right. I just need to be obedient.”

    “I don’t need to prove anything. I need to protect my peace.”

    “I don’t need to win this battle if it’s going to cost me my healing or drain my energy.”

    That doesn’t mean I don’t still want to be heard. Oh, I do. I really do.

    But I’m learning to choose what matters more in the long run.

    ⸻

    God reminds me in His word…

    “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.”— Romans 12:18

    There’s so much freedom in that verse. It doesn’t say:

    “Convince them.”

    “Change their minds.”

    “Make them understand your pain.”

    It just says: if it’s possible… and as far as it depends on you… live at peace.

    That means I can only control what I bring to the table.

    I can only control how I show up, how I speak, how I respond.

    I can’t control how someone receives me.

    It doesn’t say we’ll always get the last word. It doesn’t promise mutual understanding or a perfect outcome. It says do your part. Make room for peace. Be responsible for your end, and let God handle the rest.

    So today, I’m choosing peace. Not because it’s easy. Not because I’m passive.

    But because I’m learning that peace is power. It’s strength. It’s evidence of growth.

    And honestly, sometimes the most powerful thing you can say… is nothing at all.

    ⸻

    If you’ve ever been in that place:

    Where you wanted to scream, cry, explain, and break it all down word for word, but instead, you chose silence, prayer, peace or a quiet “okay”…

    You’re not weak.

    You’re not giving in.

    You’re not running.

    You’re growing.

    You’re protecting your peace.

    You’re becoming someone your healed self can be proud of. 

    The Healing in Surrender

    There comes a point in your healing where you realize: peace doesn’t always come with full understanding.

    Sometimes, it shows up wrapped in surrender.

    Not the kind that makes you small, but the kind that reminds you that choosing peace over proving your point is sometimes the most powerful thing you can do.

    We often think healing means closure, but sometimes healing is choosing not to carry the same weight forward, even when the answers never come.

    And here’s the part that challenged me deeply:

    “All this is from God, who reconciled us to Himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation.”

    — 2 Corinthians 5:18

    The ministry of reconciliation.

    That sounds big… because it is.

    It means we’ve been entrusted with the grace to pursue peace and healing, to bridge what’s been broken, not in our own strength but through the example Jesus gave us.

    It doesn’t mean we stay in unhealthy places. It doesn’t mean there’s no room for boundaries. It means we allow God to lead us in repairing what can be repaired, and releasing what can’t.

    Reconciliation may not always look like relationship.

    But it can look like peace in your spirit, clarity in your role, and love that no longer has to prove itself.

    That’s where I’ve landed lately… and it’s a freeing place to be.

    A Prayer for the One Choosing Peace Today

    God,

    Help me trust that even when I feel misunderstood, You see me clearly.

    Keep reminding me that I don’t have to fight every battle, only the ones You’ve assigned to me.

    Give me the courage to let go when I’ve done all I can.

    Let my peace be proof that I’m walking with You.

    And when I can’t make sense of the silence, hold me in it.

    In Jesus name. Amen.

  • When I Had Nothing Left to Give

    When I Had Nothing Left to Give

    “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, And wisdom to know the difference.”—Reinhold Niebuhr

    Just Trying To Get By

    I didn’t post last week. And to be honest, I didn’t want to.

    Not because I didn’t care. Not because I didn’t have anything to say.

    But because I didn’t have anything left to give. I was mentally exhausted. Emotionally raw. Spiritually low.

    Sometimes following Christ feels like I’m fighting a war. Not a war against the world, but a war against myself. It felt like everything hit me all at once and kept hitting. 

    Old wounds constantly resurface as I’m trying to heal. Heavy memories pressing on my chest.

    And most days I have more questions than I have answers and prayers that I can’t even finish without crying just hoping God hears my heart instead. 

    Did saying yes to God mean life was supposed to get easier?

    No, but with the way life’s been hitting me lately, I can’t lie… sometimes it feels like it should have.

    I’ve been showing up here, sharing my journey, my healing, my heartbreaks, the hard truths I’ve had to face, and the moments where God met me in my mess. I’ve done it with honesty. But lately… life cracked something deeper. And I knew I had to pause.

    The truth is, I’ve been carrying so much.

    Trying to heal, but also trying to skip over the middle… the process itself and jump straight to the end. Wanting the healed version of me without going through the messy part first, while still feeling stuck in places I thought I’d already left behind.

    Trying to be strong and grounded, while some mornings I wake up feeling like I’m barely holding it together.

    It felt like my heart was crying out,

    “God, I can’t do this. I’m tired. I’m trying… but I’m tired.”

    And I didn’t want to pour from a place that was dry. It wouldn’t be genuine. It wouldn’t feel right. I didn’t want to write just to say I posted something.

    I’m learning that it’s okay to take a time-out for the sake of my spiritual health.

    This space isn’t about performance. It’s real, real life experiences, real triggers, real wounds, real struggles. But it’s also about presence, a place for me to share my heart, true healing and truth.

    And in order to be honest with you, I had to be honest with myself first.

    So I paused.

    I gave myself permission to not be strong.

    Not to be ok.

    To not be productive.

    To not have it all figured out.

    To be completely broken.

    Completely open and exposed to God like never before.

    And to be completely honest, that pause was deeply needed. Because even in the silence, God was still speaking.

    Even in the chaos that is my life right now, He’s still been present. Even when I felt unseen, He saw me.

    Sometimes, we need to stop pouring and start resting.

    Sometimes healing looks like pulling back for a while and letting God refill what life, family, friends, relationships, jobs and even you…have drained.

    If you’re reading this and you’ve felt the same… this is for you.

    If your smile has been forced, your prayers have been whispers, and peace feels far away, this is for you.

    If you’ve been showing up for everyone else, while secretly hoping someone would notice you or see you.

    You are not alone.

    And you don’t have to keep pretending you’re okay when you’re not.

    Healing is messy and painful.

    Faith gets weary.

    And strength?

    Sometimes it looks like being still instead of pushing through.

    Last week reminded me: I don’t have to have it all together to be loved by God. He doesn’t withdraw when I’m low. He draws near.

    And even when I had nothing left to give, or I feel like I’m doing something wrong, He gently reminded me:

    “I’m still here and you’re still mine.”

    ⸻

    I was reminded of Job a couple of days ago.

    Everything he went through… devastating loss, deep pain, betrayal by the people closest to him and yet he never cursed God.

    Yes, he questioned. He grieved. He lamented. But even in his confusion and heartbreak, he kept bringing it to God.

    His wife told him to curse God and give up. His friends tried to convince him he was to blame.

    But Job held on.

    Not perfectly. Not without struggle.

    But faithfully.

    That kind of faith wrecks me.

    Job didn’t fake strength. He didn’t try to defend or explain away his circumstances. He didn’t even pretend to be okay. 

    But he did choose to stay anchored in God… even when it hurt.

    It makes me ask myself some real questions:

    Am I truly taking everything to God?

    Or am I relying on my own will, my own wisdom, my own strength?

    Is my faith built on the rock or on sand that washes away when life gets hard?

    ⸻

    And if I’m honest?

    I question my walk sometimes.

    I don’t like the pruning process.

    I constantly feel like I’m doing something wrong.

    I don’t like the pain, the tears, the frustration of it all. But I’m committed to God no matter how shaking my walk is. Why?

    Because I know it’s necessary.

    Necessary for this season.

    Necessary for my growth.

    Necessary for the woman I’m becoming.

    And this journey? It’s not just about me.

    It’s for whoever needs to know they’re not the only one feeling like this.

    Honestly, I’m just now starting to feel the strength of God again.

    Because as long as I tried to stay in control, life felt like I was being tossed by the wind.

    But when I surrendered, God reminded me:

    “I’ve been here the whole time.”

    No matter if I can’t see Him moving, or if He seems silent…

    I’m choosing to trust who He’s shown me He is time and time again.

    I’m trusting in His promises.

    I’m trusting that He knows best, that His will is best.

    His way is better.

    His timing is perfect.

    Lord, help my unbelief.

    He sent people to pour into me when I wasn’t even asking for help.

    He caught the tears I didn’t want anyone to see.

    He fought battles I didn’t have the strength to face.

    God is always near.

    And when it’s all said and done, He will get the glory.

    ⸻

    “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”—Matthew 11:28 (NIV)

    He doesn’t ask us to be strong for Him.

    He just asks us to come.

    ⸻

    A Prayer for the Weary

    God,

    Thank You for loving me in the places I don’t show to anyone.

    For seeing me when I feel invisible.

    For catching every tear, every whisper, every broken prayer.

    Help me to trust You in the pruning.

    To lean into the process.

    To remember that You’re still good, even when life doesn’t feel that way.

    Give me the courage to rest.

    To release control.

    To let You be God and not try to carry what was never mine to hold.

    And for anyone reading this who feels tired and unseen, wrap them in Your peace.

    Whisper to their hearts: You are still mine.

    In Jesus’ name,

    Amen.

    ⸻

    With love and healing,

    Toya 💛

  • When Healing Feels Like Breaking

    When Healing Feels Like Breaking

    —2 Kings 20:5

    The in Between

    If healing were a straight line, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much.

    If it always looked like worship music, soft tears, and fresh journal pages, then maybe I wouldn’t question whether I’m doing it right.

    Real healing… that deep, soul-level, God-led healing… doesn’t always feel good.

    Sometimes it feels like breaking in places that I keep trying to rush through, knowing they’re still fragile.

    Sometimes I don’t want to go through the breaking. Sometimes I wish I had a Time Machine, so I could take a glimpse into my future… just to see if I ever get through it.

    But I know, that’s not reality.

    Sometimes healing feels like facing the same wounds, just with a stronger heart, but still feeling the sting.

    Grief in the Quiet Moments

    This past week… it’s like the surface of my healing was peeled back a bit.

    Not in a dramatic way, but in a quiet, uncomfortable one.

    I’ve felt moments of sadness I didn’t want to feel. Emotions that caught me off guard.

    And I had to face the fact that I’m still carrying some things I thought I had laid down.

    It’s like every week I discover something new, something that was buried deep. Hidden even.

    As if it’s God’s way of reminding me this is a journey of discovery, not a journey to a destination.

    Sometimes it’s not the big heartbreaks that set you back, it’s the little reminders.

    A conversation, a tone, a familiar silence.

    Things that seem small, but hit deep when your heart is still tender.

    And I’ll be honest, I’ve had moments where I wondered if I’m really healing at all.

    Because how do you explain crying over something you’ve already given to God, and already forgiven?

    How do you tell people you’re moving forward when emotions still comes in waves?

    What Healing Really Looks Like

    I’m learning that healing isn’t just the absence of pain.

    It’s the ability to feel it without it undoing me.

    Healing isn’t always visible.

    It doesn’t always feel victorious.

    Sometimes healing looks like holding it together long enough to fall apart in God’s presence.

    Sometimes it’s forgiving again.

    Surrendering again.

    Choosing peace again, even when your heart still feels sore.

    Healing isn’t linear. It loops. It lingers. It surprises you.

    But it also builds something deeper in you each time.

    It’s being honest with God about the mess and letting Him hold you there.

    Brokenness can be a doorway to wholeness, as it reveals a need for God’s grace.

    In the tears that turn into prayer.

    In the questions that push you closer instead of further away.

    God Never Said It Would Be Easy

    God never said this would be easy.

    He said He would be near.

    He uncovers before He restores.

    He reveals before He rebuilds.

    And this space I’m in right now, the in-between, the not-quite-there, is still part of His master plan.

    So I remind myself:

    Feeling pain doesn’t mean I’ve failed.

    Struggling doesn’t mean I’ve gone backward.

    Needing grace doesn’t disqualify me, it invites me closer to God.

    This season is stretching me.

    But it’s also grounding me.

    Teaching me that healing isn’t about “getting over it.”

    It’s about letting God into the places I can’t handle alone.

    And even now, even here, I believe…

    He’s doing something beautiful with the broken parts of me.

    Because sometimes healing is subtle.

    Sometimes it’s slow.

    Sometimes it’s one shaky prayer, one deep breath, one brave “yes” at a time.

    And even in the discomfort of this season, I know this much is true…

    God is working.

    Even when I can’t see it.

    Even when I don’t feel whole.

    Even when I don’t feel “better.”

    Scriptures That Keep Me Grounded

    — Psalm 147:3 – “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”

    (God’s ability to restore wholeness and bring comfort to those who are hurting, both physically and emotionally.)

    — 2 Corinthians 4:16–18 – “Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day…”

    (Encourages Christians to focus on the unseen, eternal rewards promised by God, rather than getting discouraged by the temporary troubles of this life.)

    — Romans 8:18 – “I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.”

    (This provides comfort and encouragement. A reminder that present hardships are temporary and will be overshadowed by eternal joy.)

    A Prayer in the Middle of It All

    God,

    I don’t always understand why I still feel this way. Or understand the way You heal.

    Why something I laid down shows up again in a different form.

    But I trust that even in this, You’re near.

    Teach me not to rush what You’re doing in me.

    Give me the courage to sit with the hard parts.

    Remind me that I’m not behind, I’m just becoming.

    Be close to me in the places that still ache.

    Because I know You’re not finished yet.

    Not with this season.

    Not with this story.

    Not with me.

    In Jesus name.

    Amen.

  • Welcome

    Why Listen to Me?

    You might be wondering… why should you listen to anything I have to say?

    Truth is, you don’t have to. I’m nobody special. Just a small-town girl from Newton, Mississippi, who finally decided to take Jesus seriously.

    I’ve had my fair share of trouble, starting way back in childhood and following me into adulthood. I’ve been through homelessness, heartbreak, and deep hopelessness. I’ve battled suicidal thoughts, depression, and loss.

    I’ve known love and what I thought was love. Happiness and what I thought was happiness. I’ve walked through sexual trauma, emotional trauma, rejection, abandonment, and the kind of grief that makes you question everything.

    So no, my life hasn’t been glamorous. And to be honest, it still isn’t. But at 36 years old, in 2025, I’ve found something worth more than anything money could buy:

    Real change.

    Not the kind of change that just makes your life look better on the outside, but the kind that transforms your mind, your heart, and your soul. The kind only God can bring.

    Looking back, I’m in awe of how much trauma once controlled my life, my thoughts, my choices, my identity. And now, I’m in awe of how miraculous God’s healing really is. I had no idea I could experience the deep, intimate, intricate love of the Father. I didn’t know that building a relationship with Him would be the key to finally improving my mental and emotional health.

    If you’d told me five years ago that I’d be in the best state of mind I’ve ever been in… I wouldn’t have believed you.

    The mind is a powerful tool. If used the wrong way, it’ll lead you into destruction. But used God’s way? It can open your eyes to hope and a future you never thought you deserved.

    So again… why listen to me?

    You don’t have to. But if any part of my story sounds like yours—if you resonate with even one line—I’d love to build a community with you. A place where we can talk real talk about healing, trauma, faith, and hope. A place where you can be honest, even if you’re still figuring things out.

    I’m just a country girl who finally gave Jesus a real try.

    And this is just a blog about healing, God’s way.

    So let’s walk this out together.

    He’s not finished with me yet. And He’s not finished with you either. 💛