Monthly Archives: November 2025

Rooted in the True Vine

Finding Strength in “I AM”

How many negative thoughts endlessly repeat in your mind each day? It’s more common than we think. Our brains tend to latch onto fear, shame, or insecurity like a looped playlist. Did you know that your body can’t tell the difference between anxiety and excitement? That’s why daily affirmations are powerful—they help rewire the brain, the hard drive of our body, replacing negative thought patterns with truth and hope. The stress response we feel can be channeled into something powerful. With time and practice, affirmations can build self-esteem and reshape how we view ourselves.

I started using “I AM” statements, and wouldn’t you know it—I began seeing them everywhere! The very first line when I opened Jesus Calling that day said, “I AM A GOD WHO HEALS.” At a staff meeting, I noticed a framed picture that simply said “I AM.” I’d never noticed it before.

Boy, God is something, isn’t He?

For me, this was especially meaningful. My health wasn’t great due to Rheumatoid Arthritis. Depression crept in, and I found myself grieving the life I once had. Life has a way of throwing curveballs, and before you know it, you’re spiraling into a rabbit hole of negativity. But I didn’t want to stay there. I began saying things like:

“I am loved.”

“I am healthy.”

“I am worthy.”

“I am enough.”

“I am confident in my ability to change my life.”

“I am not my negative thoughts.”

“I am capable.”

These weren’t just words. They were seeds—mustard seeds. And something began to grow.

It was then that a friend shared with me the “I AM” statements of Jesus—seven bold declarations that are recorded in the Gospel of John. They are:

“I AM the Bread of Life” (John 6:35)

“I AM the Light of the World” (John 8:12)

“I AM the Door of the Sheep” (John 10:7)

“I AM the Good Shephard” (John 10:11)

“I AM the Resurrection and the Life” (John 11:25)

“I AM the Way, the Truth, and the Life” (John 14:6)

“I AM the True Vine” (John 15:1)

That last one—“I AM the true vine”—deeply resonated with me.

This is such a beautiful symbol of Jesus—the true vine—our spiritual lifeline.

Picture this: God is the keeper of the vineyard—tending, pruning, and caring for His children.

Christ is the true vine, the very source of our spiritual nourishment and growth.

And we? We are the branches. A branch cannot bear fruit unless it is connected to the vine.

Likewise, we cannot experience real spiritual transformation without remaining connected to Jesus.

As John 15:4 says, “Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in Me.”

What fruit is your life producing? Are you abiding in the Vine—or trying to produce in your own strength?

When we abide in Christ, we receive the sustenance, and the guidance we need to live a life that honors God. Our relationship with Him becomes a living testimony of His transformative power. God’s desire is that we bear fruit—fruit that reflects our faith, obedience, and love.

May your life be rooted deeply in Christ, the Vine—so that your fruit may be bountiful and your life, a reflection of His love.

Lord, thank You for who You are—the one true Vine. By Your grace and through the Holy Spirit, keep us connected to You so we can produce fruit that glorifies God. In Your precious name, Amen.

Lovingly & Faithfully,

Sally

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Beauty in the Ashes—Part 1

The Pattern in the Pain

Grief doesn’t just break your heart—it opens your eyes.

After my brother and my husband passed away, I began to see something I hadn’t noticed before. In the middle of sorrow, certain numbers started to speak.

My brother was born on May 17. My husband died on April 18.

When I added the numbers of those dates—5 + 17 and 4 + 18—they both equaled 22.

Later, I looked at the other set:

My brother died on April 1. My husband was born on May 2.

When I subtracted the numbers—4 – 1 and 5 – 2—they both equaled 3.

22 and 3.

And then I saw something else:

2 + 2 + 3 = 7.

In Scripture, seven is the number of completion. It’s the whisper of “It is finished.” It reminds us of God’s finished work in creation, and Christ’s finished work on the cross.

Even in the ache of loss, that quiet total said to me: There is a wholeness you can’t yet see. Something has been fulfilled, even if it broke your heart in the process.

Reflection

In spiritual symbolism, 22 is called the “Master Builder”—a number of deep purpose, divine alignment, and soul legacy. And 3 is the number of divine presence: Father, Son, Holy Spirit. Unity. Wholeness.

These numbers whispered to me that their lives were part of something eternal. Something God-designed.

“In Him all things hold together.” —Colossians 1:17

Even the dates. Even the grief. Even me.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” —Psalm 34:18

When you love deeply and lose deeply, you begin to look differently. Listen differently. Sometimes, even in sorrow, you hear the rhythm of heaven breaking through.

God of design and detail, thank You for showing me that even in loss, You leave traces of hope. Thank You for the patterns that help me remember that love is never wasted, and nothing is outside Your hands. Help me listen for You, even in the quietest grief. Amen.

Lovingly & Faithfully,

Sally

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Beauty in the Ashes—Part 2

Marked by God’s Calendar

Some dates don’t just stay on the calendar. They burn into your memory. They carve meaning into your soul.

My brother died on April 1st. My husband died on April 18th. For a long time, those days just brought sorrow. But this year, something sacred broke through.

April 1st, I learned, often aligns with the start of the biblical year. In Exodus 12:2, God says, “This month shall be for you the beginning of months.” That month is Nisan—when God rescued His people from Egypt and began a new story of freedom, symbolizing new beginnings and redemption. Significant for the Passover holiday in which Israel was delivered from slavery.

My brother died at the start of God’s calendar. A new beginning. Not an end.

Then, I looked at April 18th, 2025. The 7th anniversary of my husband’s death.

It’s Good Friday. The day Jesus gave His life.

He died on the same day we remember the cross—the day love paid the ultimate price, and hope seemed lost.

That’s when I realized: their dates weren’t just personal. They were sacred.

Reflection

God doesn’t waste our pain. He weaves it into something bigger than we can see.

My brother’s passing on the first day of God’s redemptive calendar reminds me that even in death, there is a beginning. And my husband’s passing on Good Friday echoes the deep truth that sacrifice is never the end of the story.

“Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints.” —Psalm 116:15

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens… a time to be born and a time to die.” —Ecclesiastes 3:1-2

Maybe our grief lives inside God’s seasons. Maybe our losses are not random, but woven into His holy calendar.

Lord of all seasons, thank You for revealing the sacred in the sorrow. Thank You for showing me that even the hardest days are not forgotten—they are marked on Your calendar, full of purpose and promise. Help me trust You with the dates that hurt, and believe You are still writing a story of resurrection. Amen.

Lovingly & Faithfully,

Sally

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He Was There

Scripture Focus:

“Evan though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and staff, they comfort me.” —Psalm 23:4

How can someone possibly understand what you’re going through if they’ve never experienced it themselves?

I’ve been through a lot since childhood. My parents were deaf, and I was what they call a “parentified child.” With sign language being my first language, I spent my early school years in speech therapy. By the third grade, I was the voice for our family—translating, interpreting, and even disciplining my siblings through my parents’ words. I carried adult responsibilities far too early.

It’s no wonder I left home at 14 and found myself in a toxic relationship with a man four years older. I became pregnant at 15. Then, while pregnant again at 16, I lost my brother in a car accident—the father of my children being the driver.

Religious pressure forced me into marriage with that same man. After the accident, he became violent and turned to drugs. My life spiraled. I remember crying out to God, “Why? Why me? Why do You hate me so much?”

For many years, I was broken inside. That pain poisoned my relationships, my view of myself, and my faith. I became someone I didn’t recognize—someone hurting others because I was so deeply hurt.

Then, everything changed when my mother passed. I was 32. Her death cracked something wide open in me. For the first time, I stopped asking, “Why?” and began asking, “What?—What are You trying to show me, God?”

I was empty. Done. Worn out from pain. And that’s when I felt it—a tap on my shoulder. A quiet invitation to fast. And in that sacred act of surrender… He was there.

Not angry. Not distant. But present.

God didn’t hate me—He had been grieving with me. Waiting for me. Pursuing me through every loss, every wrong turn, every silent night of tears. And when I finally turned back, He met me with mercy.

Psalm 23 became my anchor:

“The Lord is my shepherd;

I shall not want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures.

He leads me beside still waters.

He restores my soul.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil,

for You are with me;

Your rod and staff,

they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;

You anoint my head with oil;

my cup overflows.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me

all of the days of my life,

and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord

forever.”

He was with me. He is with me. And friend, He is with you too.

Lord, thank You for being with me in the valleys. For never leaving me, even when I doubted You. Thank You for restoring my soul and leading me beside still waters. I pray for anyone reading this who feels forgotten or unloved—wrap them in Your presence today. Remind them they are not alone. In Jesus’ name, Amen

Reflection Questions:

1. What valley are you walking through right now?
2. Can you shift your question from “Why?” to “What are You showing me, Lord?”
3. How might God be meeting you right in the middle of your mess?

Lovingly & Faithfully,

Sally

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