Category Archives: My Journey

In the Mess, He Is There

Finding God in Healing, Brokenness, and Surrender

There was a time when I didn’t understand the Word of God. It felt distant, like something meant for someone more spiritual, more holy—definitely not me. But everything started to shift when I made the choice to put God at the center of my life.

Slowly but surely, the Bible began to speak. Scriptures I’d heard before but never truly grasped began to resonate deeply. The Word wasn’t just ancient truth—it became my present help.

This season of isolation has been uncomfortable, even painful. But in the silence, God revealed some truths I could no longer avoid.

One of the most jarring? I had never truly healed.

I’d carried wounds from childhood, through adolescence, and into adulthood, believing I had tucked them away neatly. But trauma doesn’t stay buried—it leaks, it lingers, and it limits. And while I became a master at hiding it, I could no longer hide from God.

Healing began when I started to unpack that closet—layer by layer, memory by memory—with Jesus at my side.

It hasn’t been pretty. Healing rarely is. But it has been holy.

As 1 Peter 5:7 reminds us,

“Cast all your anxieties on Him, because He cares for you.”

This isn’t a suggestion. It’s a command. It is God’s invitation to stop carrying what He already died for to take from us.

Overthinking won’t save us. Anxiety won’t lead us home. Only surrender will.

And in that surrender, I’ve tasted His goodness. “Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good! Blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him!” —Psalm 34:8

I now thank Him not just for the blessings I see, but for the comfort He brings in the unseen places of my soul.

Here’s what I’m learning—God chooses the broken.

He’s not looking for perfect people—He’s looking for surrendered hearts. Being broken is not a curse; it’s a calling. Because in our brokenness, we become aware of our desperate need for a Savior.

If you’re feeling defeated today, know this: you’re closer to God than you think. He is near. He is sculpting you. And He’s not done.

You were never meant to break alone. You were meant to break open—to become a vessel of His love and healing for others. The storm you’re in? It’s revealing your strength, not your failure. God is making something beautiful out of what you thought was beyond repair.

Let me leave you with this powerful reminder from 2 Corinthians 12:8-10:

“Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me… For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

This is the gospel: beauty from ashes, strength from weakness, glory through surrender.

Keep pressing in. He’s not finished with you yet.

Lovingly & Faithfully,

Sally

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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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From Darkness to Discernment

I AM the Lighthouse

There’s a light inside me now that cannot be turned off. It burns with a brilliance I no longer fear—though at times, it overwhelms me like waves crashing against stone. This light is not new. It was always there—hidden, buried, suppressed under the weight of others’ projections, opinions, expectations, and needs.

For so many years, I could not shine.

But something changed.

There was a death—a death of the ego, of who I thought I had to be. And in that quiet, sacred unraveling, something holy happened. I ascended—not in a way the world sees or understands—but in a way that can only be described through Spirit. I encountered God not as something external, but as something within. Not separate, but unified.

This light is no longer broken

It has been restored, renewed, and reignited. It stands tall, unmoved by storms, offering guidance through the darkness. And it cannot, will not, be dimmed again.

There is power in this awakening

A sacred empowerment that comes from knowing—truly knowing—that God is not just around me—He is in me. I am not alone. I am not lost. I am found in Him, and He in me. In every sense of the words: I AM.

With this clarity comes discernment. You begin to see not just what is on the surface, but the spirit within. You stop reacting to the world, and start observing it. You begin to move differently. Freely. You are no longer tied to the fear of rejection or the approval of others.

Some will turn away. Some will misunderstand. Some will be drawn to your light without knowing why. But you are no longer here to people-please. You are here to guide, to love, to awaken.

Gravitate toward those who have awakened too—those whose light doesn’t dim yours, but amplifies it. These souls are your mirrors, your guides, your spiritual companions on this journey.

You are no longer operating in just the physical realm. You see in Spirit. You move in peace. You live in truth.

You are the lighthouse—and you are finally home

“Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord rises upon you. See, darkness covers the peoples, but the Lord will arise upon you, and His glory will be seen upon you. Nations will come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn. Then you will look and be radiant, your heart will throb and swell with joy; the wealth on the seas will be brought to you, to you the riches of the nations will come.” — Isaiah 60:1-3, 5

Father God, thank You for the light You have placed within me. Thank You for healing what was once broken, for awakening what was once asleep. May I never dim this light to make others comfortable. Help me to walk boldly in truth, to move with compassion, and to always be guided by Your Spirit. Surround me with others who reflect Your love, and let my light be a beacon for those still searching in the dark. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Lovingly & Faithfully,

Sally

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The Love I Found Within

A Journey from Longing to Wholeness

For much of my life, I found myself longing—for connection, for acceptance, for someone to love me fully and see me completely. That desire was often wrapped up in another person, someone I thought would finally make me feel whole. I thought, “If I can just love them enough, maybe I’ll feel loved too.”

What I didn’t realize then was that in all my seeking, my soul was gently leading me toward something greater.

In wanting to be better—for them, for us—I unintentionally opened a door within myself. A quiet transformation began. With love constantly in my thoughts, I was unknowingly inviting it into the most sacred place: my own heart. And in doing so, I discovered the most extraordinary gift—self-love.

This love wasn’t about ego. It wasn’t about pride or performance. It was about seeing myself the way God sees me: flawed yet beautiful, growing yet worthy, broken yet chosen. In the stillness of reflection, I realized I wasn’t just trying to be better for someone else—I was learning to value my heart, my voice, my worth.

Loving myself wasn’t something I had to strive for—it was something I had to remember. I had to return to the truth that had been buried under years of people-pleasing, perfectionism, and silent battles:

I am loved, deeply and unconditionally, by the One who created me.

As 1 John 4:19 so powerfully reminds us,

“We love because He first loved us.”

His love is not a reward—it’s the foundation.

And once I started standing on that foundation, everything changed. I stopped searching for someone to complete me. I stopped measuring my value by someone else’s ability to see it. I stopped dimming my light to be more palatable or acceptable.

I started showing up for myself the way I had longed for someone else to. I began speaking gently to my heart, allowing space for my feelings, and celebrating who I was becoming. I show up not to prove anything, but to shine from the inside out. Because once you’ve tasted divine love, once you’ve stood in front of the mirror and truly see yourself through His eyes, you never want to go back to hiding.

Love found me, when I finally turned inward. And there, I found Him, too.

God had been with me all along, whispering love through my longing, turning my seeking into awakening.

Now, I don’t just desire love—I live in it. I don’t want someone to see me—I see myself. I don’t just look for wholeness—I walk in it.

Lord, thank You for gently guiding me back to the truth of who I am in You. Thank you for showing me that love is not something I have to chase—it’s something I already carry, because You live within me. Help me continue to grow in this divine love, and let it overflow to every part of my life. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Lovingly & Faithfully,

Sally

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Unequally Yoked

When Your Soul Begins to Fade

Towards the end of my last relationship, it got so bad—I could feel myself dying inside. I don’t say that lightly. Day after day, it was as if pieces of my soul were slowly slipping away. The light within me dimmed, my joy was hollow, and I no longer recognized the woman in the mirror. I wasn’t living—I was surviving. And not thriving, not growing… just existing. I didn’t know it then, but the deep emotional and spiritual turmoil I was experiencing had a name: being unequally yoked.

I remember the first time I heard that phrase—equally yoked. My first thought? Eggs, anyone?? But the real meaning is so much deeper and, once understood, so eye-opening.

What Does It Mean to Be “Equally Yoked?”

The term comes from 2 Corinthians 6:14, where Paul writes:

“Do not be unequally yoked with unbelievers. For what partnership has righteousness with lawlessness? Or what fellowship can light have with darkness?”

In ancient farming practices, a yoke was a wooden beam used to join two oxen together so they could work side by side, pulling the same plow, sharing the same load, moving in the same direction.

But if those oxen weren’t equal in size or strength, the entire process fell apart. One would drag the other. The plow would veer off course. The work would be slow, painful, and often destructive. One would carry too much. The other would resist or collapse. And neither would get where they were meant to go.

Now, picture that in a relationship.

When the Yoke is Unequal, the Strain is Inevitable

In the relationship, I kept trying to “pull the weight.” I gave more. I prayed harder. I compromised deeper. I kept believing that somehow, someday, we would find our rhythm, that love would be enough.

But love alone isn’t what keeps a yoke balanced. Shared faith. Shared values. Shared direction. Those are what steady the weight.

The contemptuous spirit within was not just affecting him—it was affecting me. I was being pulled into bitterness, anger, confusion. My health was failing. My spirit, once vibrant and alive, began to wither under the heaviness of it all.

I lost my voice. I lost my peace. I nearly lost me.

God Did Not Create You to Shrink

If you’re in a relationship that feels like it’s slowly suffocating your soul, I need you to hear this: God did not create you to shrink to fit someone else’s brokenness.

You were made to flourish in love, truth, and spiritual harmony. Being equally yoked isn’t about perfection—it’s about partnership. It’s about both hearts being submitted to the same God, pulling in the same direction, encouraging one another, not exhausting one another.

You deserve to walk beside someone who fuels your faith, not fights it. Someone who sees your light and helps it shine brighter, not snuff it out.

Healing and Becoming Whole Again

Leaving that relationship was one of the hardest decisions I ever made—but also the most freeing. My healing didn’t happen overnight. But as I released that yoke, the weight began to lift. My spirit found space to breathe again. I rediscovered my identity in Christ. I started to dream again. Pray again. Laugh again.

And most importantly—I started to live again.

To Anyone Struggling Right Now…

You don’t have to stay where your soul is dying. God calls us into life—abundant, joyful, peace-filled life. Don’t settle for a love that chains you when God has one that will carry you.

Let Him break the yoke that’s dragging you down. Let Him restore your strength. Let Him lead you into relationships that reflect His love—not confuse it.

You are not too broken. You are not too far gone. You are deeply loved, and your peace is worth protecting.

Lovingly & Faithfully,

Sally

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Finding God in the Word

A Personal Revelation

How do you invite God’s Word into your life? It may seem like a simple question, but for many of us, the journey is anything but straightforward. Today, I want to share how Scripture became alive in my life and how God used it to answer a question I carried for over two decades.

The Beginning of My Bible Journey

When I first started attending my home church, I asked my pastor where to begin reading the Bible. He suggested starting with the Gospel of John. That led to bouncing around the Bible, absorbing pieces here and there.

Eventually, I opened up Genesis and started from the beginning. I was reading a King James Version, and I’ll be honest—it felt like I was reading a foreign language. It was difficult, overwhelming, and at times discouraging. Still, I didn’t give up. I knew deep down that I couldn’t let that confusion stop me. So, I looked for a Bible I could understand better and found the Life Application Study Bible. This helped, but I still longed for something deeper—more personal.

The Game-Changing Tool

Then one day, I discovered something I didn’t even know I needed—a spiral-bound Bible designed for notetakers. It changed everything for me. Suddenly, I had a place to write my prayers, my thoughts, my reflections, and questions all right alongside the Word. For the first time, the Bible became not just a book I was reading, but a conversation I was having with God.

The Moment of Revelation

With everything happening in the world today, especially in Israel and the Middle East, I felt compelled to go to the end of the Bible—to Revelation. What I didn’t realize then was that God was leading me not to just read the Word, but to experience a revelation of my own.

You see, for 26 years, I carried the deep, aching pain of losing my younger brother in a tragic car accident. I always wondered why it wasn’t me as I was supposed to be in the car that day, not him. For years, I asked God why. Why him? Why not me? I carried guilt, anger, and grief for years. The pain was so great that for a long time, I resented God. I couldn’t see past the grief and guilt.

But as I sat with my spiral Bible open to Revelation, something stirred me. I reached chapter 14 (my birthday number) —and my heart stopped when I read verses 4 and 5:

“These are those who were not defiled with women, for they are virgins. These are those who follow the Lamb wherever He goes. These were redeemed by Jesus from among men, the first fruits to God and to the Lamb. In their mouth was found no lie, for they are blameless.”

A wave of peace came over me. I wrote “my brother” in the margin and drew a heart around it. Then I heard the voice within whispering: “Go back to 4:1.”

And my heart skipped a beat. 4:1—April 1st. My brother’s angelversary.

A Divine Connection

Revelation 4:1: “After these things I looked, and behold, a door standing open in heaven. And the voice I had first heard speaking to me like a trumpet said, ‘Come up here, and I will show you what must take place after this.”

I burst into tears. Tears of joy! After all these years, God answered the question that had haunted my soul. My brother was with Him. He always had been.

Verse 3 took it even further: “There was a rainbow around the throne, like an emerald.”

My brother’s birthstone is emerald.

And then verse 7: “The fourth living creature was like a flying eagle.”

The accident happened on Eagle Lake Road. And to this day, my family and I see eagles at spiritually significant moments, especially during times of mourning and remembrance. The day we buried my mom—16 years after my brother’s passing—two eagles perched nearby on our way home, as if to say she was with him now.

I laughed through my tears. Overcome. Humbled. Grateful.

God answered!

Through His Word. Through symbols. Through love. He had been speaking all along. I just had to open the Word and listen.

My dear friends and readers, if you take anything from this, let it be this: You will find Him. He wants to be found. Whether it takes 26 years or one prayer whispered into the dark, God is near. His Word is alive, and His Spirit will meet you right where you are.

So pick up your Bible—any version that speaks to you. Write in the margins. Ask questions. Let your tears fall on the pages.

Because one day, those words won’t be just words. They will be your answers. They will be your peace. They will be your healing.

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

Lovingly & Faithfully,

Sally

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