The past few years have felt… interesting… as a writer. This is mainly because I haven’t written many words. My last update in December gave an overview of life and, if I’m honest, that ride sort of continued into 2026. Answers were hard to find. Energy was hard to muster. But, on the writing front, the thoughts that used to come on long walks with the Lord felt – largely – quiet.
I held onto the promise I was given that I’ve mentioned before in March of 2025, that I was to wait on the Lord and that he would reveal himself to me. But goodness, my idea of waiting is much shorter than what he seemed to have in store. It’s funny how impatient we can be. Life felt quiet.
It might sound funny – especially to those outside of the faith, maybe even to those inside the faith – but many days, what I felt most drawn to was the idea of just asking the Lord to help me walk with him, to imagine myself in his hands. I didn’t understand it then, and I probably have a very shallow understanding of it now, but y’all. Life. Was. Quiet. Not in the every day chaos of 5 kids and ninja and sports and friendships, but in the voice that used to seem so clear and so path guiding. Quiet.
What I realize now – not fully on the other side of it all, but definitely with a more clear path for forward momentum, is that the waiting I was being called to was more than just stillness… it was a call to abide in the Lord.
We’re all called to this. John 15:9 tell us to Abide in my [Jesus’s] love.
Abiding. I think it’s a concept that we sometimes miss as believers. It’s so easy to feel the urge to GO, to find or chase the next thing, to have the next spiritual conversation, to feel a sort of urgency to move forward, but, abiding is different from that.
In a general, Webster’s Dictionary sense, to abide is to accept or act in accordance with something. But in a scriptural sense, it means to remain stable or fixed in a state.
Huh?
Jesus asks his followers – us – to stay constant in relationship with him, to trust his love for us, and to stay within the boundaries of that relationship.
On a personal level, it’s felt like a call to rest in and depend upon him. From the outside – or rather, to the outside – it’s been hard to explain. With 5 orthopedic surgeries and a hysterectomy in a single year, a diagnosis of connective tissue disease, additional injuries, and then a diagnosis of Adrenal insufficiency (surprise – my body physically cannot handle stress, which is super helpful as a mother of 5!), the comments from friends – well meaning ones! – and those we casually bump into who see a new brace or indication of injury fall toward the “I’m not sure how you’re dealing with this” side of the spectrum, I think (and could be wrong), sometimes with the expectation that perhaps we – as a family – are falling apart.
Yes. This season has been difficult. And yet… it has never felt hopeless. Personally, I have felt God’s presence, even in his perceived silence. It’s not Sunday School language for me to say that my belief in him has not waivered; it is factual and honest that I believe his plan is good, even when it’s hard.
I believe that contradiction exists because of abiding in him. For me, it has been a sense of inner peace as the outside has felt like a storm – sometimes of epic proportions. It has also felt like a time to be quiet, and to stop putting words on paper, mainly because my source of inspiration – the Father – hasn’t released me to use them. But still: peace.
There’s good news here, and I’m getting to it!
The good news (for me at least), is that it feels like the hold or call to quiet seems to be slowly lifting. In ways that only God could, new connections have dropped into our (my husband and my) lives that have lead to new ministry and work opportunities for me, opportunities that feel right rather than a desperate attempt to bring in a paycheck. They feel freeing and exciting rather than filled with trepidation, like other opportunities that have come in the past year.
And along with those opportunities, a call to write words again seems to be brewing. In fact, this morning, on my walk, I felt that small nudge to come back here and share again… for the first time in nearly a year.
I don’t know what this means for me, and I’m not sure what it means for you if you’ve stuck with reading this far. But I do know this: when we abide in the Lord, and spend time in quiet, he will use that time for his purpose. It may not feel good. It may not feel purposeful, but if we are called to it, it has a purpose.
I’m still learning as I go and I believe that will continue as life moves forward. Can you relate? Have you felt the call to abide in the Lord on your own heart? What could it mean to you on a personal level? Friends, as always, there’s hope here. Let’s hold on to it. Let’s abide.
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