I’ve been quiet lately. I’ve been filling my mixed media journal with paintings that have no words. I’ve been struggling to find the ways to speak and pray what is going through my mind.

Right now, I’m broken.

Before I launched Gritty Faith, one of the things that weighed on my mind was how would I lead a community built on faith as I battled my own personal crisis?  It is one thing to lead from a place of healing, but it is entirely different when you are deep in the trenches yourself.

I pondered this thought for many months. And ultimately, I landed on the reassurance that by the time my next personal crisis rolled around (and I knew it would someday because… well life) I would have a team.  I would have people that knew how to do the things when I could not.

But apparently that was just my plan, not God’s. Because here I am, once again deep in the trenches… less than a year in.

Right now I am broken.

I am broken watching my in-laws—two people I deeply love—fight COVID. Two people battling to regain their life as they know it.

I am broken because we cannot physically be there to help. The only comfort we can provide is through a screen connecting our living room with the ICU.

I am broken at the thought of what ifs and the heavy realization that we have moved into the sandwich generation, where we are caring for both our parents and our children.
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I am broken because the timing of my first year as an entrepreneur is in the middle of a global pandemic where normal no longer exists.

And I am broken, because God didn’t even give me the time I needed before He laid more on me and my family, despite everything I have sacrificed.

Over the last week, I have thought a lot about all of this brokenness. This isn’t the first time I have been a heap of shattered pieces. I know this place. I know there is a way out, even if I cannot see it now.

When I am quiet, I can still hear the beat of my heart and the steady rhythm of my sister’s voice whispering, “Faith Over Fear, Faith Over Fear.”

Even if I am broken in this moment, God is still there.

Even if I do not understand the whys, He knows the plan.

Even if I doubt His intentions, He is still weaving His Golden Thread.

Yesterday, He sent me a good friend to check in. She didn’t offer lukewarm prayers, advice, or help. She simply sat with me in my brokenness and allowed me to be. No fixing. No judgement. No suggestions.

She was a God Thing to me yesterday. She was the thing that got me through that tough moment.

And today, He sent another to check in on me and give me exactly what I needed in the next moment.

And tomorrow, I’m sure there will be another breadcrumb. Maybe it will be a well-placed written word, a song on the radio, or maybe I’ll finally see the meaning in all those paintings with no words.

It is because of moments like this that I choose gritty faith.  Life can be incomprehensibly hard and ugly and just plain unfair.  I need my faith to be able to withstand the battle. I don’t want it wrapped up in ribbons and bows and flowers–a gorgeous book of perfectly scripted verses. I need my faith to be used and abused, dirty and imperfect, torn and battered—and still hold strong.

Right now, I may not be a very good leader. But, I know we have built this community on gritty faith and I know I am in good company as I dig myself out of these trenches.