A Sacred Season
This post was originally written several years ago and has been lightly edited for clarity and relevance. It reflects my thoughts and experiences from that season of life.
It took me a while to process everything that unfolded during a particularly heavy season of my life. Honestly, I’m still not sure I fully understand it all or even know how to put it into words. I often wrestle with wanting to be completely transparent in my writing without sounding like a martyr or inviting anyone to a pity party they didn’t sign up for.
If there is anything I have learned deeply over the years, it’s this:
You cannot appreciate the good without tasting the bad.
There is a profound part of me that desperately wants to see the good in everything, to ignore pain and sadness and focus only on what is happy. I am human, and I long for pure joy. It feels woven into my DNA to crave connection, to love people, to seek happiness. And yet, I struggle to grasp that kind of perfect bliss.
Wasn’t I created for a world of perfection?
No sadness.
No pain.
No death.
No doubt.
No fear.
It all traces back to the story of a couple in a garden long ago and the gift of free will (Genesis 1). That gift reveals itself in our choices. Some choices lead us closer to glimpses of that perfect world we were made for. Others pull us into vulnerability, insecurity, fear, and doubt. I’m learning how deeply my choices are intertwined with the world around me and how often I am shaped by the choices of others.
So what do I do with all of that? How do I ignore the bad and focus only on the good?
I can’t.
Because without the bad and the sad, I can’t truly appreciate the glad (channeling my inner Dr. Seuss).
“Those who sow in tears shall reap with joy and singing.”
—Psalm 126:5
That season was marked by sadness and profound disappointment. After months of intense effort and hope, expectations gave way to outcomes we hadn’t anticipated. It was a time filled with emotional highs and lows, lessons learned, and sacrifices made. When the moment finally arrived that was meant to usher in a new chapter, I greeted it with hope, anticipation, and excitement.
And then life interrupted.
Grief entered suddenly and sharply with the loss of a young life in our church community. The weight of that loss overshadowed everything else. What followed was an outpouring of compassion and love so powerful it still gives me chills when I think about it. To witness a community rally together in grief and hope was a profound reminder of how essential it is to believe in something larger than ourselves, something that sustains us when words fall short.
In the midst of unpredictable emotions, disappointment, and sorrow,
I held tightly to one truth: I am cherished by the King.
As more layers of loss and uncertainty unfolded, I found myself sorting through months of effort, prayers, and expectations of my husband’s political campaign. While the results were not what we hoped for, clarity eventually came. There was peace in knowing that integrity had guided every step, that values had not been compromised, and that faith had anchored the journey. I believe deeply in a God who works powerfully through the unexpected, and I refuse to confine Him to my limited understanding.
Around that same time, my family faced another tender moment. My precious Nana’s health had declined, leading to one of those conversations you never forget with people who loved you deeply. There was laughter, love, and the ache of goodbye. Though my heart resisted the parting, I found comfort in the hope of reunion and the promise of eternity.
Being far from family during seasons like that is never easy. I’ve learned how much I treasure them and how deeply love stretches across distance. Even in uncertainty, I hold onto hope, trusting both earthly care and heavenly hands.
The following is from my journal, written during that season. Reading it later, I realized it felt less like my own words and more like something written for a future version of me. Sometimes, when I pour my heart onto the page, it’s not just for the present moment… it’s for what’s still ahead.
I am enjoying a quiet morning in a coffee shop. Reflecting on all that has transpired in the last week. I find myself resting in God's strength and hope. I am learning that He gives me what I need each day. He gives me daily doses of respite and blessings in the chaos. Just when I think I can't take another disappointment or curve in the road of life, He lifts me up with a supernatural strength to face it. I toughen up because its not my right to wallow in the sadness. It is my responsibility to reveal God's strength, compassion, love, and joy. (11/13/12)
