Between Me & God

Still Trusting God… Even When My Body Is Not Okay

April 16th, 2026

There are mornings I don’t talk about much.

Mornings where I wake up long before my alarm—not because I want to, but because my stomach won’t let me sleep.
Mornings where I sit on the edge of my bed, gagging and dry heaving, just waiting… praying… for my body to calm down enough so I can get ready for the day.

Some days, the only relief I get is standing in the shower, letting hot water run over me, hoping it relaxes what I can’t control.

And then somehow… I still go to work.

There are days I sit in my office with stomach cramps that feel almost like labor, pain wrapping around into my back, trying to focus, trying to push through like everything is normal.
There are days I can’t eat because the nausea is so overwhelming.
Days where I’ve watched the number on the scale drop—almost 50 pounds this year—without ever trying.

And the hardest part?

Not knowing why.

Some days are lighter.
Some days I can get out of bed and almost forget something is wrong.

But other days… it’s constant.

Nausea that lingers all day.
Pain that doesn’t let up.
Nights where sleep doesn’t come because the cramping won’t stop.
Even drinking water isn’t simple anymore.

I find myself scared to eat.
Scared that one wrong choice will send me into a flare that ruins days… sometimes a week.

And in the quiet moments, my mind goes places I wish it didn’t.

I ask questions like:
Why is my body doing this?
What did I do to deserve this?

There are days I catch myself wondering if this is punishment.
For the years I spent drinking.
For the choices I made in the past.

And even though I know in my heart that God doesn’t work like that…
those thoughts still try to creep in.

What hurts just as much as the physical pain…
is the kind of mom I am on my worst days.

I have a son who just wants to play, to go, to experience life.

And there are moments where I’m short.
Moments where I’m snappy.
Moments I wish I could take back the second they happen.

I don’t want to be remembered that way.

That part… that part weighs heavy.

But even in all of this…

I have not lost my faith.

Not even close.

Because on my hardest days, I remind myself of this:

God has never left me.
Not once.

He has carried me through every storm I’ve faced before this one, and I believe with everything in me that He will carry me through this too.

I may not have answers yet.
I may not understand why my body is struggling the way it is.

But I do know this—

I am not walking through it alone.

God gave me a husband who stands beside me in this every single day.
A man who is my rock when I feel like I’m falling apart.
That is not by accident. That is God’s provision in my life.

And even on the days where I feel weak… I am still held.

Life doesn’t pause for pain.

It doesn’t slow down because you’re tired, or sick, or overwhelmed.

So I’ve made a choice.

I will keep showing up.

I will keep fighting through the hard days.
I will keep listening to my body, even when it frustrates me.
I will keep choosing faith, even when fear is loud.

Because this life—
this beautiful, messy, unpredictable life—
is still a gift.

And I want to experience it.

With my husband.
With my son.
With the people I love.
And with Jesus at the center of it all.

If you’re walking through something similar…
If your body feels like it’s working against you…
If you’re in a season of not knowing—

You are not alone.

And this is not the end of your story.

Closing Prayer

Lord,

I lift up anyone walking through struggles in their body right now.
You see their pain, their exhaustion, and the questions they carry.

Bring them comfort, strength, and peace in the middle of it all.

I also pray for the loved ones who stand beside them—
the ones who feel helpless but continue to show up with love.
Give them patience, strength, and peace as well.

Remind us all that we are not alone, and that You are with us through every moment.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

A Prayer for the In-Between

March 20th, 2026

God,
I don’t have everything figured out —
and I’m learning that I don’t need to.

There are parts of my life that still feel unfinished,
places where I wish I had more clarity,
more direction, more certainty.

But right now, I’m here.
And I know You are here too.

Help me to trust You in the middle of it all —
not just when things make sense,
but when they don’t.

Teach me how to take the next step
without needing to see the whole path.

When I feel overwhelmed, slow me down.
When I feel uncertain, remind me I’m not alone.
When I want to rush ahead, bring me back to stillness.

Thank You for walking with me —
through every question, every step, every quiet moment.

Help me to keep showing up,
just as I am.

Amen.

A Quiet Beginning

February 17th, 2026

I didn’t start this space because I had clarity.
I started it because I needed somewhere quiet to be honest.

For a long time, life felt loud — decisions, expectations, grief, the pressure to keep moving even when something inside me was asking to slow down. Faith was still there, but it didn’t always look the way I thought it should. Some days it felt steady. Other days it felt tired. Most days, it felt unfinished.

Somewhere along the way, I realized that God was meeting me not in answers, but in stillness. In quiet mornings. In open spaces. In moments where nothing was required of me except honesty. That’s where rebuilding began — not all at once, but slowly, gently, without an outline.

There were days when faith didn’t look like certainty for me — it looked like showing up without words. I stopped trying to force clarity and started allowing stillness. Somewhere in that quiet, I realized God wasn’t waiting for me to be stronger — He was already there.

I also know I didn’t find my way back alone. Through the steady guidance of my husband, I was gently led to reconnect with Jesus and to trust God again, even when it felt hard. For the past couple of years, that trust has been something I’ve had to practice step by step — walking forward alongside my husband and family, learning that faith isn’t meant to be carried alone.

Between Me & God is a place for that kind of rebuilding.

This is not a space for polished faith or tidy conclusions. It’s a space for prayers that don’t always sound confident, for questions that don’t need to be solved right away, and for reflections that are still forming. Some entries may be longer. Some may be only a few honest lines. Some may simply be where I am that day.

I’m learning that faith doesn’t have to be loud to be real. It doesn’t have to be explained to be strong. Sometimes it’s just sitting still long enough to breathe and trusting that God is present in that quiet.

If you’re reading this and you feel like you’re in-between — between what was and what’s next, between certainty and trust, between exhaustion and hope — you’re not alone. This space isn’t here to rush you forward. It’s here to let you rest where you are.

I don’t know exactly what this blog will become, and I’m okay with that. What I do know is that honesty belongs somewhere. Faith deserves room to breathe. And stillness has more to offer than we often give it credit for.

This is where I’m starting.
Slowly. Honestly.
Between me and God.

Still Trusting God… Even When My Body Is Not Okay

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A Prayer for the In-Between

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A Quiet Beginning

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