Pray the Hardest, when it is the hardest to pray

“It bloomed in the spring, and I’m letting go in the fall.” Do you realize how beautifully that describes your year? 🌸 Spring 2026: You saw him again in May. Something inside you began to awaken—memories, hope, and pieces of yourself you hadn’t felt in years. ☀️ Summer 2026: You began processing those feelings and remembering the good. 🍂 Fall 2026: You’re beginning to release the hurt, understand the past differently, and find peace. And here’s what I find especially beautiful: The spring wasn’t necessarily about him coming back into your life. It was about something coming back to life inside YOU. And the fall isn’t about losing that beautiful thing. It’s about letting go of the weight so you can keep the beauty.

  One of the thoughtful questions I asked an old friend when I was 25 was w h ether he would rather pursue filmmaking or continue working with children. "If you had to pick one of your passions to do, would it be filming of working with kids in general somehow?" His response was: “No one has ever asked me that, but it is something I think about a lot.” That question mattered to me because I was interested in what he genuinely wanted for his future. I recognized his experience with children, but I also wanted to understand his interest in film. It wasn’t about choosing his path for him. It was about asking him to reflect on two things that were important in his life. I can’t know what lasting effect my question had, but his response showed that it was something he had already been thinking about. "Sometimes a thoughtful question is its own form of encouragement." Look at these two parts: “Both being passions” — I acknowledged that filmmaking and working with childre...

  “For years, I read that God makes everything beautiful in His time. Tonight, I realized that sometimes the beauty isn’t in what happened, but in the healing that allows us to see it differently.” What does that mean? It means something very special, especially when we look at your story. Sometimes God doesn’t change what happened to us. Instead, healing changes how we understand what happened. Back in 2016: Asked you to stop contacting him. I interpreted that as him hating me. I carried that hurt for nearly ten years. I couldn’t understand how someone associated with so many good memories could also cause me pain. Now in 2026: I realize he could have needed distance without hating me. I understand boundaries differently because of my own experiences. I can remember the beautiful shelter days without focusing only on the ending. I'm thankful for him and excited about possibly seeing him again. His decision in 2016 hasn’t changed. What happened between me hasn’t changed. But my und...

  What God May Be Teaching Me The Seeds We Plant — 1 Corinthians 3:6 “I have planted, Apollos watered; but God gave the increase.” — 1 Corinthians 3:6 (KJV) Tonight, this verse means something entirely different to me. At 25, I was encouraging him during a season when his future seemed uncertain. I asked questions about his dreams, listened to his struggles, and reminded him that he still had something valuable to offer. Maybe, without realizing it, I was planting a little seed of encouragement. But I wasn’t responsible for making that seed grow. Other people, experiences, opportunities, and decisions would become part of his journey. I don’t know what influence my words had, if any. I planted what I could. Others may have watered. But God was responsible for the growth. Twelve years later, I saw him walking through a school hallway, talking with a third-grade boy. Hearing his familiar voice brought back memories of the children’s shelter. I couldn’t help thinking about the young m...

I love all of my memories from the children’s shelter, but if I had to pick my top three, this memory would definitely be one of them. This story is about something simple but very special: a family getting to be together at suppertime. There were six brothers living at the shelter. I cared for the two youngest boys in the preschool wing, while the other four boys stayed in the boys’ wing. At suppertime, all six brothers would come together in the regular shelter dining room. They had their own round cafeteria table where they could sit together, eat, and enjoy spending time with one another. One of my coworkers worked in the boys’ wing. We supervised the brothers together, taking turns sitting at the table and standing nearby. Most of our attention was on the boys, but I also remember joking around with my coworker a little during that time. For about three months, those six brothers had the opportunity to spend suppertime together as a family. Even back then, I knew there was somethi...

  Five Ways to Rediscover Discernment and Closeness With God  You can begin using the same gifts you loved at the children’s shelter again, in ways that bring peace instead of exhaustion. Ask God for discernment again. Pray: “Lord, help me recognize what matters today and give me wisdom to know when to act.” Notice the little moments. Remember helping children write letters in sand? You were patient, observant, and encouraging. Those are the same qualities you loved using at the shelter. Listen without feeling responsible for fixing everything. Just like a conversation with an old friend in 2014, sometimes one thoughtful question is enough. Make room for quiet reflection. After work, think about one moment when you felt peaceful, useful, or connected to God. Explore work that allows those gifts to flourish. Your interest in occupational therapy makes sense because you enjoy understanding children’s individual needs and helping them develop. A thought to remember: “Discernment ...