It’s Time to Talk about the Valleys

“You led me to the mountain top just to watch me get knocked off – bumps and bruises, paralyzing, numbing.

I hit rock bottom. No transition. No journey down from the valley. Why am I here in this pit? Hurting, numb, in a haze? I know You’ll come for me. But why. Why am I here? Why the drastic drop from consolation to desolation?

 Anger rising, darkness pressing…” (6-15-25)

Our spiritual journeys are a combination of seasons, of ups and downs, periods of consolation and desolation, the mountains and the valleys. Usually, my seasons can be marked by external events that launch me into joyous peaks or depleting troughs. This trough has been the hardest one yet. Mostly because the external events have passed, but my interior life is still shaken. I’ve been rereading my journal entries for this year and wow…yikes…hallelujah…and ouch. So many cool pieces of writing that have come out of my valleys and so much wisdom God has shared in sealing me in His hope. (I’ll be sharing these for my next written series about God in the valleys.) Sometimes, because I “know” all the right answers when it comes to our spiritual life, like, I know I am never alone, I know He will come for me, I know without a shadow of a doubt that He is a Good, Good Father. I know Love wins. But I also feel. I feel deeply, and because I feel deeply, I’ve been learning to allow my feelings to speak, too, because only then can Truth truly cover it.

 So, it’s time. It’s time to talk about the valleys. That it’s okay to trust God but also feel abandonment. It’s okay to love Him and also be angry at Him. It’s okay to break, to fail, and to need a Savior. If my valleys had a voice, this is what they’d say…

 “Good morning, Jesus, my heart is really hurting. I’m constantly put in this position of questioning the intentions of those closest to me or those surrounding me. Lord, please expose my enemies. My chest hurts. All the love and hope and trust I’ve poured into the staff and girls. Last year it was betrayals from the girls, this year it’s the staff. The fear of allowing others to get too close to me is resurfacing. I want to crawl back into my wall. I want to push them away. “I can do it myself, then. I’ll just do it myself.” Comes flooding in.” -3-18-25

 “O rock of Ages, I need you. I feel so defeated and overwhelmed by his nastiness and lies, even to the police officer about me and the police seemed to believe him! Lord, speak! Pierce through the dark. I am hurt and sad at his relentless bullying.” -3-20-25

 “Wow, God, fasting has transformed me into your vessel, allowing Heaven to use me and not the other way around. Today was hard but beautiful. My body was physically battling, shaking with anger and hurt, feelings of disappointment and confusion, yet knowing with a deep clarity what I had to do – Trust you.” -3-19-25

 “Another one left. The girls are surprised at how calm I’ve been through this. That’s all You, not me. I feel a bit lost, though. Like I’m floating, not grounded. Please anchor me, and help me sleep in Jesus’ Name.” -5-30-25

 “It’s been over a week after she ran away, my body yet to shed a tear. The color of this moment – ocean-floor blue – dark and dangerous.”  -6-1-25

 “I don’t know what you expect me to do? How can I keep showing up in a place where it feels like people don’t show up for me? You expect me to come with a smile, to show up even when I’m crushed because that’s what I do – I show up even when it’s hard. The moment I fail, the moment I show weakness, the moment I make a mistake, I’m written off… Am I expected to be perfect? To not flinch? To not break?

-6-8-15   To be fake?

“I am a porcelain doll

Chosen for hope of perfection

But at first sign of blemish

...rejection

...they tire of me

...Still, I bleed”

 

“What is this madness, this storm, this chaos, this Judas?” -6-15-25

 

“Jesus, come and get me. The darkness is closing in. Mocking, beckoning, sardonic. Hitting the mark.”

Sometimes I wish my internal season of temporary darkness was external. Because I feel like those are more easily solved. Like, if I were on crutches and had to see a physical therapist to recover, I wouldn’t have to explain why I can’t walk – people would just see the cast and the crutches and know. Maybe they would see and help. Maybe they’d send Get Well Soon cards and recovery gestures. Not that anyone wants sympathy in a season of valley, but at least when it’s physical, there are measured goals of growth and recovery. There is somewhat of a timeline and a context. Not so with the interior life. How do you explain to someone two months later, you’re still not okay? How do you explain it to yourself? How do you measure growth in the valleys? The ebbs and flows are so inconsistent in these places and often times it is dark and lonely even though you’re not alone. What God has been showing me in this season is to stop trying to manipulate my external circumstances, aka my healing, and just allow Him to work even in the haze. After all, my Best Friend glows in the dark. Darkness is not dark to Him. And that’s what I cling to in the valleys. And I hope this encourages you if you’re in a season of valleys, too.

 What better companion to have in the valley than the One who can see through it all. He may not tell you everything, but He sees, He knows the way out, so just keep holding His hand.  

Even When

I love you, not only because You're Good

I love You when you're distant

and when it feels like You've abandoned me.

I love You when you're silent

and when you're hard to understand.

I love You when dreams break 

and healing seems hard to reach.

I love You when I'm angry and empty

and darkness settles in, and I'm still alone.

I love You when You bless those arounds me

even if I am without.

I love You when I see miracles performed for others

even if my prayers are left unanswered. 

I will love You anyway.

You see, I love You not for what you do,

but for Who You Are.

I love You because you are my Savior, 

You left the 99 for me.

I love You because you are my Good, Good Father,

and You have set me free. 

I love You because You are my Best Friend

and You have never forsaken me. 

---------------------------------------------------------------

I love you, child, not only because you're good

I love you when you're distant

and when it feels like you don't want Me.

I love You when you're silent

or when you demand "to know" instead of understand.

I love You when My Heart breaks 

because you become hard to reach.

I love You when you're angry and dark

and you forget I am your Light.

I love You when you praise others around you

even if you've forgotten to thank Me.

I love You when you are loyal and faithful to others

even if my calls to you are unanswered. 

I will love you anyway.

You see, I love you not for what you do,

but for Who You Are.

You are my beloved, 

I will leave the 99 for you.

You are my child,

and I delight in you. 

You are my Trusted Friend

and I will never leave you.

-Love, Papa

A couple months ago, a reading from the "Imitation of Christ" really pierced me, especially in this season of particular internal valleys. "Jesus has many loves of His heavenly kingdom, but few cross-bearers. Many desire consolation, but few tribulation. Many will sit down with Him at table, but few will suffer for Him."

"Many will follow Him to the breaking of the bread, but few will drink the bitter cup of His Passion. Many revere His miracles, but few follow the shame of His cross. Many love Jesus when all goes well with them, and praise him when he does them a favor; but if Jesus conceals Himself and leaves them for a little while, they fall to complaining and become depressed."

Ugh. Right to the heart on that one. I've been complaining and depressed. Wanting Him to take me out of this inner turmoil and into a different season. A better season. Consolation, comfort. I say I love Him, but I didn't want the cross. I've been going to an adoration chapel almost every morning, trying to shake myself from this darker place I'm not used to. And it has been SO healing. There is no match for joy than the actual presence of Jesus Himself. And finally, my complaining has turned to whispers of adoration and praise and promises. This very morning, poetry started coming back again. I grabbed the small devotion book, the only paper I had handy, and the bright orange pen in my pocket, and scribbled my promises onto this book. (The picture above) Then I started writing a reply from the Savior. Oh how powerful is His love for me and us! And I revisited this passage from the book I couldn't keep reading a couple months ago. I opened to the very page I left, because two months ago, I didn't want the sufferings or the cross. I wanted His banquet not his poverty. I wanted a return for my labor and a return for my love. Oh how I found myself a lover of majesty and despiser of the manager. Lord, forgive me.  

If I'm Being Honest

If I’m being honest

I’m seeking to be seen

Because You’ve forgotten

about meeting all my needs.

I know You once parted the Red Sea

But where’s the manna for me?

I struck the rock once to take care of Your sheep

So why do I find myself alone in the dark valley

Aren’t you supposed to lead?

If I’m being honest

It feels like You lied to me

 

You said “Harvest”

But all I see is desert

You said “Joy”

But what I got is jaded.

You said “Rest”

But what You gave was chaos

You promised Healing

But all I feel is broken.

 ---------------------------------

You brought me to the mountain top, and the view was worth the climb. 

Springtime Blossoms in their fullest.

After chest pain and lung issues, I got to rest on top of the world with stars as companions.

I could breathe the freshest air, my lungs filled with untainted satisfaction

My burdens below my feet, my baggage lifted

Peace

I fell asleep that night on top of the mountain, on top of the world, thinking You led me through the miserable climb to show me greater things.

I closed my eyes with my lips curling into a smile, knowing I could finally rest and wake up with joy in the morning.

But I woke up dazed and confused

I couldn’t see properly, everything was hazy, I felt dizzy and heavy, labored and sore

So sore, something was broken

Like I had been hit by a bus

When I looked up, I realized my fate was worse

I had fallen off the mountaintop

No, not fallen

I had been pushed.

No, not pushed.

Shoved, launched, dumped off the mountaintop

And woke up in the valley – dark, blinding, and cold

False springtime

With my Savior nowhere in sight

 

I know my enemy pushed me off, cruel and evil, attacking me at my moment of rest

But what about You, God? I know my enemy is evil, but You? You’re supposed to be good.

How could you allow the thief to come and steal this joy, this rest from me?

 

Yet, I pressed on.

Trudging through the valley of the shadow of death

Knowing You were somewhere close

I reached a clearing and my heart leaped for joy

But it sank quickly to my toes when I realized it was just a break in the trees

We were still in the valley

I trudged on

And reached another clearing, again my heart leapt for joy

To get smashed down to my feet

Upon realizing it was the same disillusioned clearing

I had simply walked in circles

A third time, a clearing appeared and joy danced around me

Quickly muted by the devastation of realizing I had walked in circles – again

I’m never going to get it right.

It’s not going to change.

I fell asleep that night with dark shadows as companions

No miracles left for me

But as sunlight came, so did my resolve

But there was no more anticipation, no more excitement

The joy had been jaded, misled, misused

Only myself to blame, anger burned

Finally, the trees of the valley thinned

And the dark forest ended

The real clearing lies up ahead

Joy surged, but I caught it in my fist, keeping it on a leash this time lest it disappoint me again

Good thing

Because my feet reached the clearing and all I saw from horizon to horizon

Was desert.

Devasting.

But I walked on. Now numb. Why should I care when You don’t?

A well full of water.

I’m unmoved.

A sandstorm.

I’m unmoved.

A basket of bread.

I’m unmoved.

A thief in the night.

I’m unmoved.

Good, bad, pretty, or ugly.

It all looks the same to me now.

 

Sand in my eyes, blurred vision

Parched heart, Torched hope,

What exactly do You expect from me?

 ------------------------------------------------

They expect me to hold the weight without breaking

Walk through fire without burning

Take the punches without bruising

Still, I bleed.

Where are Your promises for me?

 

Becoming Unwintered: The Beauty of Springtime Blossoms

How did I forget that Spring had blossoms? 

The sound of mowers in the background, the smell of freshly cut grass, the feeling of wind rippling through your shirt on a bike ride, the neighborhood garage sales. This is spring.

I snuck home for a friend’s wedding and some family functions which just so happened to all be in one month! And I have been captivated by the trees here (ironic because I wrote a blog about the beauty of death [Fall]) But oh! What blossoms! What beauty there is in new life!

How did I forget that spring had blossoms?

The purple with a tint of pink, the white with a hint of purple. Royal, pure delight. How did I forget?

This spring, how timely, how wonderful, how symbolic. My winter season (2024) had numbed me to my bones. A previous spiritual director had told me that I seemed “bone-tired.”

A frost-bitten heart.

They say, “Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me.” I must be the fool of them all, because over and over, I think the best and see the best in others, only to be betrayed, blamed, rejected, lied to, manipulated. Lies. A sheep in wolf’s clothing. A sudden turn of character from someone I’ve known for over a decade. Confusion, aggression, threats. Case opened. Other disappointments by colleagues or peers, trust challenged. And then of course the heartbreak of losing my own to poor decisions or just plain rebellion, but being a constant revolving door – people coming into my heart, and people going out.

A frost-bitten heart.

Bitten by betrayal, frosted by the repetition of it. For the first time in my ministry life, last year my heart went cold. “I don’t want to be someone’s leftovers, their fallback plan. I don’t want to be the bandaid or the rotating door, people coming in and out,” I wrote in my journal.

Painted on smiles and pretend hugs, when behind my back, my heart is spit on, my work mocked, like a beautiful painting I spent years mastering, just to get a blob of paint thrown on it. That’s the feeling of failure. Beauty turned to trash. Once a visionary, now a stained vision. I didn’t know who to trust. Not even myself.

At the end of last year, I was home for three months, but I didn’t call and check on the girls or anyone back home. I didn’t want to. I was numb, cold. Like my toes after having fallen through the ice when I was younger. I don’t remember how old I was, maybe 10, but we were ice skating and there was a tiny patch of thin ice. The crackle was too quick to be an alarm, and the ice broke beneath my skates. I only fell through to my chest, catching myself on the strong edge of ice with my arms. My family had to pull me up, and while my mom roasted my toes over the fire for the next hour, to this day, they still freeze up at early signs of cold. I never thought my heart would ever feel like my stone-cold toes.

Journal Entries:

Dec 3^rd: I’m worried I won’t be ready to leave. I’m not ready now. What is this unsettling feeling? It terrifies me. I’ve never felt it before. What if it doesn’t go away? What if things don’t change? Why am I not aching to get back and see everyone like I used to do? What’s wrong with my heart?”

Dec 14: “I feel like I’m stuck in this darkness, waiting to be taken to the light. But it’s like You’re waiting for me instead. Me, sitting in my anger and pity because I’m afraid even in the light, I won’t be happy. I’m afraid nothing will change.”

I was on the plane flying back to Swazi on Dec 30th and writing in my journal; I begged God to change something – anything, because I didn’t feel anything. I wasn’t excited to return for the first time in all my 16 years of traveling (since 2008). I was simply numb. Like a stubborn layer of snow, the fear refused to melt even when the sun came out. I felt like a failure – I couldn’t heal the way I planned to.

I wrote: “I am so deeply wounded. I wanted to be healed before I returned. I wanted to be fixed, strong, whole…I am none of it. I am broken, weak, fractured. Sad. Bracing myself for impact.”

Fear. So much fear.

In God’s goodness, amid my innumerable what-ifs and fear, the Holy Spirit stopped me in my tracks with, “What if it’s better than you’ve ever had before?”

That alone restored some hope. Not because I was good, whole, strong, or happy. But because I knew God was all I couldn’t be. I wanted to go home strong and healed and whole, so I didn’t have to feel like a failure. He wanted me just as I am. So He could remind me, He is the hero in this story, and His love never fails.

Dec 30^th: "I’m sitting in Dubai and feeling a sudden rush of uncertainty and fear. But I declare I am because You Are. You are strong enough, wise enough, trustworthy enough. You are a miracle-working God, a Transformer, a Deliverer, a Redeemer. Come and redeem my heart to be on fire like Yours again. Jesus, transform my fear and anxiety into courage and peace.  I want to love well even when I’m wounded and weak.

Even if my stomach doesn’t settle, even if my mind still races, my heart is secure in You.”

Nothing extraordinary happened when I arrived. Nothing notable. I didn’t feel strong but I knew His love for me. Peace. And I knew He wanted to heal me His way, on the very grounds in which my deepest wounds had been afflicted.

Jan 3^rd: "I feel like a twist cone, or twizler candies wrapped together as one…a side of joy, energy, contentment but mixed with blood red color tinged with layers of sadness, heaviness, apathy, avoidance. But I am here. I came back. Not to run or hide or avoid it. I came back to do something extraordinary. To love anyway.”

Looking back, no big moments marked my healing, but winter indeed had ended.

I simply showed up each day, took each day as it was, one day at a time. And soon, I was laughing like I couldn’t stop. Giggling at things that I couldn’t remember laughing at before. Enjoying and playing like a kid again. There was a deep, unspeakable joy. A forgiveness that seeped from under the once snow-covered branch, now a sprout of new life.

The transition from winter to spring is not sudden. It’s painfully long. Day after day, it seems like nothing changes, and then one day everyone is out in their shorts and tank tops, as if winter never happened. That’s how healing came for me. Not suddenly, not in an extraordinary moment, but in the simple graces of every day life, warming up my heart just one degree at a time. One degree. Small changes that don’t seem to matter until the “one degree” changes everything. One degree difference and a water droplet freezes. One degree difference and water boils. Oh, the power of one.

One little hand holding mine. 

One kiss on the cheek. 

One prayer from a friend. 

One hand-written Valentine’s Day card. 

One hour of cleaning my house. 

One apology. 

One night of cooking dinner for me. 

One by one by one. Love came daily. 

Only this time, I was unwintered enough to see it.

Fall used to be my favorite season for as long as I can remember. But oh, the Springtime! How did I ever forget about Springtime blossoms? They have captivated me this year. The delicacy of their scent, the delicacy of their colors, the delicacy of their petals but the power it represents! Behold it. Breathe it in. Spring, the season of hope! It changes everything.

Oh, how my cup runneth over with springtime blossoms.