Last night, I strolled with my husband at dusk as the crisp autumn air refreshed my soul after a long day. We dreamt of the possibilities the coming year might bring, but I was reluctant to let my imagination run free.

​Lately, life has been a drag full of conflict, disappointment, and opposition. It is hard to see past the smoke of the wildfire that has set my life ablaze. My thoughts were clouded as I listened to the hope my husband exuded.

​Copper and crimson leaves blanketed the base of a tree, catching my eye. Immediately, my eyes rose to the sturdy branches that once held them. This observation reminded me of a poem I wrote a few years ago, Fall Tree. The resilience of trees inspired me as they release their leaves and embrace the changing season. I noticed these trees don’t fret about what is ahead; they yield and surrender because they know they will bloom again in spring.

The Holy Spirit reminded me that this season of affliction will pass. Winter is coming, but so is spring. Like a gentle breeze, hope slowly danced through the air, weaving its way into my despair. I came home and lingered with the words of Fall Tree.

September is here.
School is back in session.
The ministry season is rocking and rolling.

I find myself in the nonstop hum of activity. My body is adjusting to the early-morning rush of packing lunches and boisterous preteen boys arguing over who will use the bathroom first.

By 7:30 a.m., I am out the door, feeling like I’ve already experienced a day's worth of work. At the office, I’m greeted by a roster of meetings and projects with deadlines approaching. I brace myself for the unexpected ministry crisis that falls into my lap.

My stomach growls, reminding me it’s lunchtime. I stop to refuel before I cram in more work. Soon it's time to pick up the boys from school, make dinner, and help with homework.

I look up. The clock reads 8:30 pm. I wind down for the evening, heading to bed.

If I am not careful, I will miss my Savior’s quiet invitation for me to sit at His feet.

If I am honest, I have heard and ignored His voice beckoning me, “Danielle, come rest with me.”

Lately, my body has been feeling heavy. 

I wake up feeling the weight of my responsibilities pulling me down like a boulder sinking in the sea. Life caves in on me, leaving me confused with voices running through my head, speaking chaos out of sync, draining out the Voice that was once leading me. 

I find myself lost in a vortex of fear and uncertainty. The unknown path seems endless…suffocating…overwhelming. I wish to speak, but when I do, things from the deep emerge, enveloping the room. 

I feel vulnerable as my words imprint everything surrounding me.  But I don’t know any other way to let the layers of me be seen. 

“You don’t have to stand in agreement, Danielle.”

God’s voice cut through the noise.

Friend,

“You don’t have to stand in agreement with what people say about you or what you say about yourself. You don’t have to stand in agreement with the lies the enemy is speaking or the false things being said about My character.

Danielle, you can fall out of agreement. It’s your choice. But if you continue to cultivate these thoughts, they will lead you to a dangerous place.”

Friend, 

Last Fall, the church my husband and I planted moved to two services. This shift prompted structural changes within our staff, resulting in new or refined roles. I was content in my position as the Women’s Ministry Director. After a few years, I felt like I finally had a grasp on what to do. I felt secure in my responsibilities and in how to prepare for the coming year.

But I was suddenly thrown a curveball.