My story is a broken one. A thread of suffering can be found throughout my pages. From a little girl to now a mother, suffering has been my greatest blessing. It’s in that suffering I have found intimacy with the Father. He has taken my ashes and made them beautiful. When we’re in the middle of suffering it’s often hard to see the end. Embracing suffering, being able to lament, and shine in the middle of pain is beautiful to the Father. Others are then able to see His glory on display in the darkest days of our lives.

Sometimes God doesn’t answer our prayers the way we think He should. Learning to rest in grace and leaning into Him in the waiting shapes our hearts for what He has prepared. Grace in the waiting forces us to surrender our desires and trust a faithful Father.

I have walked with the Lord for many years. I met Him when I was five. However, it wasn’t until I walked through a season of infertility and watched a family member become an addict until I really experienced true intimacy with Father. I had seen Him in black and white my whole life, but when I was at the end of myself and desperate for more of Him, I experienced Him in beautiful color. He is waiting, pursuing, inviting us to step in closer and listen to the sound of His heart beating for us. I keep finding more of Him there, nestled up close to His heart. And His heart longs for other sisters to find Him there too.

The garden of our hearts can subtly become full of weeds during our wait. It’s easy to believe lies about ourselves, our stories, and even lies about God. But the Father wants to renew our minds and change our thinking. He’s unveiling our eyes to see the lies we have believed, and calling us to uproot them. In place, He’s planting seeds of truth, making our hearts bloom with beauty.

Mary of Bethany lived a life poured out at the feet of Jesus. She didn’t hold an ounce of her love back or care what those around her thought, she just knew she had to get to Him, her Love. The one time she thought He showed up late, He met her in the middle of her disappointment and displayed her miracle for all the world to see. I often find myself standing beside a grave disappointed and heart sore that He hasn’t yet shown up. But every time, He meets me there. I nestle my head in His chest and His hot tears of compassion fall on my face. He grabs my hand and together we walk to the grave. I get a front row seat of watching Him raise the dead back to life. Nothing from Mary’s story was wasted and friend, nothing is wasted in ours either.