His Perfect Timing

"a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace." -Ecclesiastes 3:6-8

My cousin promised the boys an early morning pool run which gave me some quiet time. Overhearing their excitement made my heart smile. It didn't take much to get their little, overactive, rambunctious engines roaring. All of a sudden, the minor inconveniences proved to be worth every minute of sacrifice. I loved seeing others happy! It filled my cup.

I dragged my feet to the lobby for breakfast and immediately got swallowed up by the crowd. I desperately needed to "recharge my battery" from the prior full day of cramming on last minute homework assignments.

I decided to" pause" and enjoy breakfast outdoors on the patio until the rain forced me back indoors. My feet longed to feel the sand beneath my toes one last time but the rain provided an immediate reality check. I felt tension swelling, my heart was torn between staying and leaving.

Responsibilities echoed from afar that forced me back down 95 South; but somehow, it felt like I was travelling backwards. The familiar landmarks didn't seem to align with my destiny. My abundance felt like an overhead "smoke screen" fading into clouds of disappointments. My flight felt like it had been cancelled in mid air.

The migraines, the anxiety, and the stress was actually "grief" in disguise. I mourned because my hands couldn't "fix" what was broken-- my loved ones' hearts. The overwhelming needs magnified my shortcomings. I was not the Messiah nor did I need to be. He had already paid the price on the cross, so it was time for me to stop trying to "hang myself" there for others.

One single teardrop brought forth such revelation: Stop setting yourself on fire to accommodate those who refuse to acknowledge" the light/freedom" that is available.

God has me in a "maintenance season" of pruning and uprooting. It doesn't feel good, but it's quite necessary!

What have you been "dragging" around that God has asked you to let go?
What are you "harboring" that inhibts your peace?
What are you" allowing" to drain your well?

Comments

Broken Covenant

Once upon a time— I wanted to believe something was real so desperately that I silenced the Spirit within me just to keep the illusion alive. I saw every red flag— not as warnings, but as tests of how much I was willing to endure to feel chosen. I asked no questions because truth was already whispering, and I feared what obedience would cost me. So I made a covenant with denial— calling lies “grace,” and confusion “patience,” because the truth felt too vast, too holy, too disruptive to the future I had built in my mind. I clung to potential like it was promise, and mistook absence for peace. Yet the weight of it— this thing I called love— crushed my spirit daily. Still, desperation dressed itself as loyalty and convinced me to stay. And it didn’t get better. It decayed. Quietly at first… then unmistakably. Each time God unveiled truth, I chose the comfort of shadows over the calling of light. I pleaded. I prayed. I begged— not for revelation, but for permission to remain where I w...

From Chaos to Calm

After a while… the need to be heard at full volume begins to dissolve. The rooftops grow silent. The flames you once fed with trembling hands no longer feel like power— only exhaustion. What you burned never built a home. And somewhere along the way, you realize— not every echo returns, not every seed takes root, not every mountain was yours to climb. The grace you poured out like water in a desert, the love you offered with open, unguarded hands— it did not come back the way you imagined. And still… you are here. So instead of fighting what refuses to bend, you loosen your grip. Not in defeat— but in awakening. You release the need to be answered, to be chosen, to be understood by those who never learned your language. Your hands, once reaching outward, begin to rise— not in desperation, but in devotion. Upward. Open. Steady. God… I see You now in the quiet I once avoided. I hear You not in the thunder— but in the space where my striving used to live. And I am ready. Something within ...

Do Not Resuscitate (DNR)

What unsettles me most about some people is not the harm they cause— but the silence that follows it. No conviction. No trembling. No evidence that a soul was ever stirred. As if something sacred once lived there… and quietly left. What remains is form without fire. A body that breathes, but does not feel . A Walking corpse. Spiritually vacant, yet socially skilled— fluent in imitation, but foreign to truth. They move through people like weather— touching everything, anchoring nowhere. I once mistook that emptiness for mystery. Confused detachment with depth. Thought restraint was discipline, when it was really disconnection. But there was no rootedness in him— only appetite. An endless hunger dressed as desire. A man grazing on bodies, scrolling through souls like they were disposable moments. Not searching. Not building. Just consuming— to quiet something unnamed within him. Unhealed wounds don’t stay still. They wander. From bed to bed, from face to face, from high ...

A Daily Dose of Freedom

Search This Blog