When things fell apart, I thought God was punishing me. But becoming a single mother has taught me something I never expected: God doesn’t remove to destroy, He removes to replace. And what He gives back is always better than what was lost.

Sometimes the hardest trials are not the loud ones everyone sees but the quiet ache of feeling left out. Watching others move into new seasons while your own life feels still can be its own kind of sorrow. Yet Jesus’ words remind me that I am not overlooked. “Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.” Even in the waiting, even in the hollow places, His victory covers me and His love holds me steady.

Sometimes it feels like everyone else has moved on to the next chapter while I am still trying to figure out where I belong. In those moments, I’ve discovered that what looks like being lost is often just Jesus drawing me closer. Being “behind” in the world is not the same as being forgotten by God.

The morning of my appointment, I whispered something to God I didn’t expect to hear: “I want more children.” Hours later, I received news that may change everything. What do we do when new desires meet closed doors? What do we do when our health, our identity, and our dreams collide? This is the hollow I’m sitting in - and the place where I’m learning that my worth is not in my womb, but in the God who calls me His.

I used to believe that a calling was like a lightning strike - one shining road, one perfect assignment, one big reveal. But my life has looked less like a straight path and more like winding trails, detours, and small, ordinary beginnings that never turned into grand stories. What if calling isn’t one thing at all? What if it changes with the seasons, showing up in survival, in small faithfulness, and in love that looks ordinary but is holy? Maybe we’ve been holding our breath for a single answer when the truth is - we’re already living it.

Psalm 25 isn’t a prayer of the put-together, it’s a prayer of the desperate. It’s not glamorous, but it is honest. Sometimes that’s all faith really is — handing over what we can’t carry, and believing God really will.