This is my first birthday celebrating with God in my life. I do not feel perfectly aligned yet, but I feel awake again. And for the first time in a long time, I am genuinely motivated to do better, with Him beside me.

Today my son walked into his first day of preschool, and I walked into a new version of faith. The kind that doesn’t pretend it’s easy. The kind that budgets with trembling hands and still whispers, God, I trust You. This is a story about the in-between season: living at my parents’ house, stretching every dollar, grieving what I thought life would look like, and choosing what’s best for my child anyway. It’s also a story about the God who meets single mothers in parking lots, in drop-off lines, and in the quiet after goodbye, and says, I see you. I’ve got you. Keep going.

In Genesis 3, after everything had already fallen apart, God asked a question that feels surprisingly tender: “Who told you that you were naked?”
I’ve been sitting with that question in this season of rebuilding my life as a single mom. Because when your story doesn’t turn out the way you thought it would, shame gets loud. It tells you that you failed, that you’re behind, that your life is somehow smaller now. But the more I’ve prayed through this season, the more I’ve realized something important. Some of the loudest voices in my head never came from God.

Writing the vision doesn’t mean I have everything figured out. It means I’m willing to trust God with what I’m still becoming. As this year comes to an end, I’m learning that clarity isn’t a prerequisite for obedience. Hope doesn’t have to be loud or certain to be faithful. Sometimes it’s as simple as putting pen to paper and saying, “Lord, this is what I’m trusting You with.”

Lately I haven’t felt God as loudly as I wish I could. Not gone, just quieter - like His voice slipped into a softer frequency. But even in that quiet, He keeps showing up in ways I can’t deny. And somehow people keep telling me they’re drawn to my faith, even on days I feel anything but holy. Maybe that’s the truth about this season: I don’t have to feel Him loudly for Him to still be close.

Spiritual warfare got louder the moment I started getting closer to God, but it taught me something I did not expect. The heaviness was never proof that He stepped away. It was proof that the enemy was afraid of who I was becoming. Every time the confusion, fear, or doubt tried to settle in, I had to remind myself that God is not the author of chaos. His voice brings peace. His presence brings clarity. And the more I learned to recognize His tone, the easier it became to reject the lies that tried to pull me under. God was not hurting me. He was holding me through a battle I did not see. That truth changed everything.