Some mornings, the tiredness meets you before your feet even touch the floor. You wake up with that familiar weight, staring at the start of another day and asking yourself, 𝘐𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘵?

Because the reality is, the world doesn’t pause for our weariness. There is always a load of laundry waiting to be folded, a meal to cook, floors to clean, and a grocery list to manage. There are spouses, kids, and grandkids—a whole family of people we love dearly and care for every single day.

Beyond our own four walls, other relationships and influences matter, too. Not all of them are easy, but many are true blessings. Over the years, God has placed good, faithful people in my path—true friends who have poured into my life, encouraged me, and helped steer me in the right direction when I needed it most. But alongside those sweet friendships, there are also outside situations that bring friction—circumstances that leave you baffled, hurt, and asking God, 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨? I have asked Him that question more times than I can count.

For a while, the weight of a recent painful situation became so heavy that it completely consumed me. It took my focus, stole my peace, and quieted my voice. I stopped writing because I couldn’t think straight amid the noise of disappointment and pain. I was letting the trial steal my joy—until Kevin gently reminded me of what was happening: “𝗗𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝗽𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗹 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗷𝗼𝘆.”

He was right. I was letting the hurt dictate my days.

Looking back now, I don’t see this current season as a mistake or a bad thing. Sometimes, God permits these heavy trials not to break us, but to draw us closer to Him. It’s in these moments that He invites us to stop trying to fix or control things in our own strength.

When you follow Him in complete obedience and surrender it all—the lingering disappointment, the hurt, the confusion—something incredible happens. The hurt doesn’t instantly vanish, but the sting fades. The disappointment remains, but the deep, sharp pain gives way to something far greater. You find yourself standing in a place where you aren’t angry anymore.

At 62 years old, like so many of us as we get older, I sometimes look back and wish I had understood all of this in my youth. But the truth is, I couldn’t have. It took age. It took scars. It took chaos and the long, weary battles. It took every single one of those heavy seasons for my roots to grow deep and anchor down. It took all of that to finally open my eyes, open my mind, and truly accept the gift that had been offered to me all along.

A former pastor of mine once illustrated grace by holding up a pen in front of someone. He said salvation is right there—all you have to do is reach out and take it, yet so many people hesitate.

Years ago, I reached out and took the pen. But back then, I honestly didn’t know what to do with it. I held onto it without understanding its true purpose or power. It wasn’t until I walked through the wilderness, through the heartaches and the quiet surrenders, that God finally showed me what to do with what I’d been given.

In a strange and beautiful way, I find myself thankful even for the recent trial and the very circumstances that caused so much pain. Not because the hurt was easy or acceptable, but because that storm stripped away my self-reliance and drove me straight into the arms of the Lord. Without it, my relationship with Him wouldn’t be as deep as it is today.

It amazes me every single time, though it shouldn’t: the moment you truly hand it all over to Him, He replaces the turmoil with an undeniable, quiet peace.
I’m okay today. Not because the whole situation turned out perfectly or because all the answers arrived, but because I finally surrendered it—and I know God’s got it.