I honestly can't remember why I stopped writing. Maybe it was the busyness - college, work, life in general. But reading back through my old posts from seven years ago, I'm reminded of how introspective I used to be. I rarely shared those posts, but when I did, there was always a reason behind it, something I was trying to say, maybe even a quiet hope that I longed for someone to understand.
Teenagers are good at that - reaching in all kinds of strange ways to be understood. Now, as a 27-year-old woman, I’m still that same soul, just wrapped in new experiences, new lessons, and entirely new cells. Life has surprised me in ways I never expected, but the good news is: it brought me right here.
Seven years can hold a lot.
Regrets? Yep.
Heartbreak? Been there.
Loss? More than I imagined.
Mistakes? Plenty.
Friendships? Some stayed, however many faded.
Sure, I could use this space to detail every twist and turn of my story, but I think it’s more important to talk about how God used all of it - every regret, every tear, every misstep - to shape me into someone stronger, softer, and more aware of who He is.
When I chose my own desires over God's will, it felt amazing… but only for a moment. Like being desperately thirsty and someone gives you the coldest, most refreshing sip of water... but just a sip. That tiny relief feels so good that you keep chasing it, again and again. But it never truly satisfies. That’s how it was choosing myself over Him: thrilling for a second, but empty in the end. And that cycle of temporary highs and inevitable shame? It went on for years.
I remember one night, a roommate looked me dead in the eyes and asked, “Don’t you think we’re kind of being lukewarm?”
I brushed it off.
Told myself this was the normal 20-something experience - the fun phase before settling down. Isn’t this what the world celebrates? The freedom, the independence, the wild nights in the city?
But deep down, I was afraid. Afraid to face the truth. Afraid to admit that with no accountability, I was spiraling. I had everything I thought I wanted, but none of it was real.
Thankfully, God didn’t leave me there.
He pulled me out - but not overnight. I had to move. Literally. I had to step out of the environment, the friend group, the habits that kept me stuck.
And I did.
But let me be honest: moving didn’t magically fix anything.
For a while, I still clung to that party culture. I still ran on autopilot, chasing that same temporary thrill. It wasn’t until I met my now-husband that something began to shift. As we got closer, I started thinking about marriage, about the kind of wife I wanted to be... and it hit me: I wasn’t there. Not even close.
And honestly, it sucked to realize I needed help. For so long I’d prided myself on being independent, self-sufficient. But God knew what I needed, and He gave it to me - through Tate.
"Two are better than one." (Nope, not the 2009 Taylor Swift song, though now it’s stuck in your head!) That truth comes from Ecclesiastes 4:9. And it’s one I’ve come to believe deeply. I needed someone to walk beside me. For me, that was my husband. For you, it might be someone else. But no matter what culture says, we’re not meant to do life alone.
We need people.
People who sharpen us.
People who lovingly call us out.
People who remind us what really matters.
God redeemed my story, and He’s still writing it. I’m thankful my detour lasted just a few years and not a lifetime. I’ve learned that your circle matters. Your habits matter. And maybe even more than that, your attitude while doing the everyday, mundane stuff matters.
Now, instead of obsessing over "What is my purpose?" and spiraling into existential dread, I ask, "How can I seek God today?"
Today is what He’s given me. That’s all that’s guaranteed.
Manna for today.
Even if there are dishes in the sink, laundry waiting to be folded, cat turds in the litter box, and dust balls that go ignored - I can still meet God in those tasks. That’s where He often shows up: in the ordinary.
One thing that’s always bothered me about some modern churches is this constant emphasis on going: missions, travel, big mountaintop moments. And don’t get me wrong, those things are beautiful and necessary. But what about the single dad who can’t leave town because he’s working two jobs? Or the elderly woman losing her memory, confined to a wheelchair? Is their purpose less meaningful?
No.
God's purpose for each of us is the same: Seek Him.
So that’s what I’m trying to do. Every single day.
And yes, it’s hard.
I still want comfort. I still want to stay curled up in my own little world. But comfort rarely transforms us. Seeking God means getting uncomfortable. It means confronting the things we’d rather ignore.
We make thousands of choices every day, most of them automatic. But if we can choose to seek Him even in the small, seemingly insignificant moments, our lives will change.
Mine sure did.
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