There was a time in my life when I was insecure and misunderstood God’s love. But God met me and revealed his true character. Now I walk with confidence in him, knowing that my circumstances—whether hard or beautiful—are not a reflection of his care for me.
I accepted Christ at 8, was baptized in a backyard pool in my small hometown, and was doing Bible studies before I could drive. I was blessed to be immersed in God’s Word, small groups, accountability, and community at such an early age.
I went to Baylor, where I continued pursuing the Lord, staying plugged into church, and eventually spending summers working at Pine Cove Camps. It was there that my faith became personal. The Bible became more than a rule book or something to analyze—it became the way I knew him.
I remember mornings sitting on the porch of a cabin while campers slept behind me, talking with the Lord, journaling, and growing in my faith.
It was also there that I met my husband. Our first three years of marriage were sweet. Up until then, life felt like it was steadily moving “up and to the right.”
Then everything shifted.
When our second child was born—just 13 months after our first—we learned he had a heart defect. It was the first major trial Lance and I faced together. We were scared, unsure of what was ahead, and terrified about our son’s future.
At three weeks old, he had heart surgery. I remember watching the doors close behind him, wondering if it would be the last time we saw him alive. In that moment, I had to stand on the faith I had proclaimed for so long.
Looking back, that was when we first realized that faithfully following Jesus doesn’t shield you from hardship. We also learned that hard isn’t always bad. The Lord was faithful—not just because our son lived, but because he was with us in the darkest moments.
Through that experience, and in raising our four children, Lance and I have come to understand that our kids don’t belong to us—they belong to the Lord. We are simply called to steward their lives for however long God allows.
In 2021, our family entered a season of repeated hardship. In just three years, my mother-in-law passed away, my mom was diagnosed with dementia, I was diagnosed with breast cancer, and our only daughter left for college.
With cancer, I was walking through things that struck at the core of my femininity, while the women closest to me were being stripped away. I faced hair loss, a double mastectomy, chemo, and reconstruction. The changes were physical, but also mental and emotional. No part of me felt unchanged.
Lance says cancer is a taker—but also a revealer.
He’s right. Our full lives came to a stop, and we saw with clarity that, at the end of the day, the only thing that truly matters is the love of Christ.
Before my diagnosis, I attended the Watermark Institute, a 10-month ministry training program. During the first semester, I gave a presentation on the Old Testament and ended with this line: “It is virtually impossible to read the Old Testament and not trust God, to read it and think I know better, to read it and question his faithfulness.”
It was weeks later that I was diagnosed with cancer. And rather than questioning him, I got to watch his faithfulness on display.
God used that season to strengthen our family in ways we couldn’t have planned. It became an opportunity to depend on him more fully, and he was faithful to meet each of us in every place we needed him.
Recently, I was reading about Hezekiah in 2 Kings. He was a faithful, prayer-filled, trusting king who restored true worship to Judah. Yet, God sent a prophet to tell him, “Set your house in order for you will die. You will not recover.”
That stopped me. It was eye-opening to realize that faithfulness isn’t tied to your circumstances. Hezekiah was faithful, and he still faced sickness and the reality of death.
For a long time, I believed that if things were going wrong, I must be doing something wrong. But that’s not always true. My faithfulness—and God’s faithfulness—are not determined by my circumstances. I may have known that before, but now I’ve lived it.
Today, the journey continues. I’m still on medications, receiving treatments, and learning a new version of myself. My family is still getting to know a new wife and mom.
I used to think endurance and perseverance were things we produce. But I could not have endured any of this on my own. It has been God’s endurance—through his Spirit in me—that has carried me. I’ve never felt weaker or more insufficient than I have in these last five years. But I’ve also never been more aware of his presence.
I remember one night in my car, crying out, “Lord, what are You doing? This is not what I expected.” And quietly, he reminded me: He is not done yet.
I needed that truth in the middle of my chaos—and maybe you do too.
God isn’t finished.
We all carry unmet expectations—whether in singleness, marriage, family, grief, or a life that doesn’t look the way we thought it would. But keep walking with him. He is faithful to be near.
He is not finished.