I still don’t have it all together.
I still don’t have all the answers.
I still don’t understand why things happen the way they do.
I still don’t understand why things don’t go the way I want them to.
I still don’t like when the people I love are hurting.
I still don’t like when problems keep arising for my sweet Ridge.
I still don’t like when my kids are struggling and I don’t always know how to meet them exactly where they are.
I still don’t like when I walk away from moments feeling like I could have done better…been better…handled it differently.
But…that is life.
And life is still hard.
Today, I found my old blog post from 2018 titled "Thy Will Be Done".
Not because I went searching for it. Not because I even remembered writing it. But right when I needed it most. And as I sat there reading those words, my words from a version of me that felt so deep in the trenches, “Thy Will Be Done” was playing in my headphones. At the exact same time. And I just sat there. Because it felt too intentional to ignore. Like God gently reminding me, “Look. I’ve been here the whole time.”
Back then, I was overwhelmed. Exhausted. Desperate for things to get easier. Desperate for answers. Desperate for some version of “normal.”
And now, looking back…Ridge has overcome so much.
More than I knew how to pray for. More than I could have imagined. More than I probably even gave God credit for in the moment. God has been faithful in his life over and over and over again.
And yet…we are still in it.
There is still more ahead. More unknowns. More trust required. And if I’m being honest, that part is hard.
Because I can see now that so many of the things I worried about back then…the things I cried over…the things I begged God for…they came.
Just not when I thought they would. Not how I pictured them. Not in the way I had planned out in my head. But in His way.
“Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.” (Proverbs 19:21)
And His way was better. Even when it didn’t feel like it at the time.
But here’s the part I don’t always say out loud:
Lately…this has felt heavy again.
Not in the exact same way as 2018, but in a different, deeper, more internal way. Because spiritual warfare is real. And I have felt it.
On April 9th, I was in deep prayer while driving to Little Rock for an appointment. Not distracted. Not surface-level. I was seeking God with intention. Wanting to know Him more. Wanting to understand Jesus more deeply. Wanting my life to reflect Him more. Praying intently for the people in my life.
And ever since then…it feels like something shifted.
The anxiety that had been quieter came back, and it came back loud.
Persistent. Relentless.
I’ve found myself anxious about my own body.
About the pain. About the healing process. About another surgery coming on June 5th. Wondering how much more my body can take. Wondering how I’m supposed to keep showing up the way I need to.
I’ve found myself questioning my worth.
Feeling like I’m not enough for people. Not a good enough friend. Not someone people would choose to keep close. Hearing and believing the lies that sound like truth if I sit in them too long.
I’ve found myself questioning my motherhood.
Am I doing enough? Am I giving them what they need? Am I pointing them to God the way I should?
In the middle of the chaos of four busy kids…sports, schedules, appointments, life…am I actually making Him the center? Or am I just surviving the day?
And that’s where the weight sits.
Because it’s not just one thought. It’s all of them at once.
Stacking.
Spinning.
Getting louder.
But I know this now in a way I didn’t fully understand before:
That’s not random. That’s not just “a bad week.” That is spiritual warfare.
“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy…” (John 10:10)
To steal peace. To kill confidence. To destroy truth. Especially when you are drawing closer to God.
Because the enemy speaks loudest when you’re moving in the right direction.
And so I find myself back in the same place I was years ago.
Not because nothing has changed. But because this is what faith requires:
Surrender. Over and over again.
“Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.” (1 Peter 5:7)
Not some of it. Not the easy parts.
All of it.
The fears about my body. The doubts about myself. The worries about my kids. The weight of not feeling like I’m enough.
So here I am again.
Not with everything figured out. Not with perfect faith. Not without struggle.
But with open hands.
And the same prayer that has followed me through every season:
Lord, please heal. Please provide. Please make a way. Please take this weight.
But even if it doesn’t look the way I want…
Even if it doesn’t happen when I think it should…
Even if it’s harder than I hoped…
Thy will be done.
Because the truth is…the battle hasn’t stopped.
It’s still there when I wake up. It’s still there in the quiet moments. It’s still there when my mind starts running ahead of truth.
There are still days I feel overwhelmed. Days I question. Days I don’t feel strong. Days I don’t feel like enough.
But I’m trying.
Trying to choose truth over lies. Trying to choose faith over fear. Trying to fix my eyes on Him, even when everything around me feels loud.
“I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24)
Because if I’m being honest, that’s where I am.
Believing…and still needing help believing.
I don’t have a perfect ending to this.
I’m still in it.
Still walking it out. Still learning how to surrender in real time. Still fighting to make God the center in the middle of the chaos, not just in the quiet moments. Still asking Him to meet me here.
But I do know this:
God hasn’t changed. His promises haven’t changed. His faithfulness hasn’t changed. Even when my feelings do.
“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” (Psalm 34:18)
And right now, I’m clinging to that.
So if you’re reading this…
I would love your prayers.
Prayers for peace in the middle of anxiety that is consuming my head and my heart.
Prayers for strength through the physical healing and the surgery ahead on June 5th.
Prayers for clarity, for truth, for rest.
Prayers that I would lead my kids well—even when I feel like I’m falling short.
Prayers that God would remain at the center of our home, even in the busy, messy, imperfect days.
Because the battle is real. But so is my God.
And even here…in the middle of it…I’m choosing to believe He is still working. Still moving. Still holding us. Still writing a story that I won’t fully understand yet.
And so, again and again…with shaky faith, tired hands, and a heart that is still learning to trust, Thy will be done.
