This new journey is still unfolding.
There was no big announcement, no dramatic turning point—just a quiet realization that I was tired of fighting God for control. Tired of the tug of war. Tired of trying to force clarity instead of allowing alignment.
So I let go.
Not in a careless way—but in a surrendered one.
I’ve always loved God, but loving Him didn’t always mean I knew how to sit with Him. My mind is loud. My thoughts scatter quickly. And for a long time, I felt guilty about that—like my faith had to look a certain way to be valid.
But I began to notice something: When I slowed down and approached my quiet time with intention and structure, I felt closer to God—not because God needs steps, but because I do.
There’s a misconception that faith must always be free-flowing and unstructured to be genuine. But Scripture reminds us that God Himself is intentional. Orderly. Purposeful. Creation didn’t happen randomly—and neither does growth.
Facing myself in the silence was the hardest part. At first, it was uncomfortable—painful. I wanted to make the call. It got so heavy that I did make the call. This time, though, it came with a different intention: to keep the relationship, to make it work, even when my entire body and soul didn’t want to.
It felt like a tug of war between:
“I can’t do this myself. This is my person.”
and
“Look up. Talk to Me. Invite Me. I’m knocking—let Me in.” (Revelation 3:20)
Letting go didn’t make things easier right away.
It was hard. It came with battles. With solitude. With moments that were beautiful and graceful—and others that felt chaotic.
Because when the noise quiets, you’re left with yourself.
I had to face all of me: The insecurities. The self-sabotage. The fears I carried quietly. And also the beauty. The heart. The passions I often minimized.
That was uncomfortable. Necessary. Holy.
One of the most important lessons God has been teaching me is this: Not every voice deserves a home in my spirit. Just because a thought shows up doesn’t mean it belongs to me. Just because fear speaks doesn’t mean it gets authority… So I stopped feeding the voices that pull me away from peace. I stopped claiming what God never spoke over me.
Instead, I give it to Him.
Again. And again. And again. And again. And again.
The person I am becoming still surprises me.
Not because I’ve arrived—but because I’m learning to trust the process. To trust God in the unfolding. To believe that alignment matters more than control.
I never thought I had this in me. But maybe God always did.
I’m sharing this for the person who loves God but feels overwhelmed in quiet moments. For the one who needs gentle structure, not pressure. For the one learning to surrender without losing themselves.
This journey is still ongoing. Still sacred. Still being written. And I’m choosing to walk it with grace.
If it feels right, you can peek at Rooted Grace 🤍
Rooted-Gracefully.com 
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