sometimes healing is a flicker, sometimes it’s a return to the wound. but even in the unraveling, i’m learning to move forward with courage— one honest breath at a time.
there is room for your mourning and room for your dancing morning comes gray with rain asking its old questions of the heart joy waits quietly inside the ache sometimes the rain must finish speaking before the sun is allowed its say i am learning to dance where i stand not against the drops, but with them both ways of being are holy
*a quiet reminder that life’s beauty, value and significance often lie in its smallest, most ordinary of things — the everyday, often-overlooked aspects of life. we get to choose what we reach for…
a quiet reminder that imperfect faith is still faith
do you ever feel like you’ve stumbled in your walk with god? like something you said or did might cause others to question your faith? do you feel that quiet conviction of the holy spirit when that happens? and do others sometimes criticize you for not living up to a picture‑perfect standard of righteousness?
if there’s one thing i’ve learned on this journey, it’s this: there will always be someone who makes you feel inadequate — like you’ve let the lord down. there will always be messy moments when life gets in the way and you trip over your own intentions.
but let me remind you:
we are all imperfect. we are all messy. and i’m not ashamed to say that my faith is messy too.
i need god. i need the holy spirit. and as long as i’m trying — truly trying — to live in truth and righteousness, i believe god sees past my flaws and failures. he sees my heart. he sees yours too.
he sees you rise each morning, trying again to lead others toward him. and maybe we don’t always get it right — but the goal was never perfection.
if all you have to offer is a messy, real, raw, and authentic faith, that is enough.
you are loved. god loves you — even in your mess.
so have a blessed day, even if it’s imperfect. even if it’s filled with effort and not ease. it counts. it all counts.
keep growing. keep trying. keep showing up.
love, tina ♡
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Today’s quiet reflection is resting on my substack, if you’d like to read it.
… “live and breathe beauty”— fully immersing oneself in the aesthetic and wonder of life, finding joy and inspiration in the beauty that surrounds us.
… “beauty is all the earth” hints to nature itself is a manifestation of beauty, and the earth being a “canvas of its LOVE” points to beauty is an expression of divine or universal love. It’s a poetic way of describing the interconnectedness of beauty, nature, and love.
(we) all is intertwined by beauty, love and nature and our lives are a canvas for both…
Personally, I’m finding that with each passing day, I’m becoming more authentically myself — more aligned with who He created me to be. And I’m eagerly anticipating deeper intimacy with Jesus and greater alignment with His purpose for my life tomorrow.
May you grow more into your authentic self with each new day, finding joy in the journey of discovering and embracing your true identity in Christ. May tomorrow bring you even greater clarity, peace, and confidence in being beautifully, wonderfully you, rooted in His love.
A psalm of brokenness and restoration. May these words be a sanctuary for your heart today.
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I carry shame for actions, words, and thoughts. The inability to trust You still escapes me.
Though doubts and confusion make me feel so weak, still You call me worthy— more than I can believe.
Even in my most broken state, You still call me daughter. How can You remain so faithful when I continually falter?
I often wonder if I am truly chosen, or destined to a life undone by the world, when trials shake me to my core— when I cannot feel Your Presence, and Your voice seems so distant, the silence pressing in like stone.
You whisper:You are not defined by misery, nor by a life without purpose. The refining fire is painful, even breaking at times, yet beyond the surface a greater work is unfolding.
You stretch the limits of my sight, so I may see through clouded glass, bask in surrender’s light, and drink deeply of living water— drawn into intimacy with You.
The burden I carry, the weight of my heart, is being woven into a tapestry, a work of art.
You are preparing me. In the stillness, You mold and shape me, making room for my story that will propel me forward— not perfection, but mercy, a blessing that lingers in the lives of others.
My testimony will no longer be bound by pain. For when I walk in my calling, a lioness will rise forward to guard the hallowed ground with reverence. Your strength will be my armor. Your power will be my shield.
Not perfection, but grace. And in You, I am made whole.
There are moments when weakness feels louder than faith, yet I have found a deeper truth: even in my frailty, His love calls me His. What seemed like breaking has become shaping, and grace has carried me into wholeness.
Do you hear that same love naming you, even in your own fragile places?
Like seasons quietly shifting, I’m bringing our conversations home. From now on, these letters will arrive directly from this space we’ve created together – no longer scattered across distant platforms, but rooted here where our stories first began to bloom.
There’s something sacred about gathering in one place, where thoughts can settle like morning light through familiar windows. Your inbox will still welcome these gentle reflections, but now they’ll carry the warmth of home.
Nothing changes in our rhythm of sharing – only the path these words travel to find you.
If you’ve been quietly following along but haven’t subscribed for email updates, now is the perfect time to ensure these reflections find their way to you.
Thank you for walking this path with me, for letting these words find a home in your heart.
If this resonates with you, I’d love to have you subscribe and stay connected as we continue this journey together.
