Sometimes grace doesn’t feel like power. It feels like survival. This is one of those stories.
Maybe I’m Supposed to Create Anyway
A gentle blog series for those called to build in quiet. This series is a spiritually reflective journal of becoming—anchored in faith, creativity, and obedience. These aren’t polished teachings. They’re honest moments. Small altars. If you’ve ever wrestled with the question “Am I allowed to build this?”—you’re not alone.
The Grace to Make Changes
Post #6
When It’s All Too Much
It didn’t come in a lightning bolt. It came in the silence—when there was no plan, no margin, and no energy left to perform.
There was one morning in late 2022 that still lives quietly in my memory. I don’t remember the exact day. Just the atmosphere: The house was loud. The inbox was full. The toddler was wailing. And in one hand, I held a positive pregnancy test.
Not fear, exactly. More like… awareness. That life was shifting again. That I wouldn’t get to pause this time. That if grace didn’t carry me, I might not make it through—not dramatically, just slowly. Quietly.
I thought of Elijah, crumpled under the broom tree. Not angry. Not faithless. Just… done.
Maybe you’ve felt that too. The soft unraveling. The sense that things can’t keep going like this, but somehow… they do. Because you do.
Still Becoming in the Middle of It
I was already stretched thin before the test.
We had just welcomed Desmond home from deployment. His mother, Pat, had been diagnosed with cancer, and treatment had to start right away. Our oldest was struggling emotionally. Lily had just turned one and was loud with feelings she couldn’t explain yet.
I was commuting between states for drill, working full-time in HR, and trying to be present at home in a house where no one—not even me—had much left to give.
And then came the MRSA. The kind of sickness that demands rest from someone who has no time to stop. The kind that says, you don’t have a choice now.
I used to think grace would feel like peace. Or maybe ease. But in that season, it felt like barely enough breath to make it through the day.
Just enough to get out of bed. Just enough to make dinner. Just enough to fold the laundry. Just enough to not give up.
I wonder if that’s what Elijah felt when the angel touched him. When the bread was still warm and the water close by. Not an escape. Not a miracle. Just enough to keep going.
Maybe you know that kind of grace. The kind that isn’t glamorous or pretty. But it’s there—steady, strong, unspoken.
Grace didn’t feel like strength in me. It felt like strength holding me.
The Mess Still Had Meaning
Around that time, we were also starting the embroidery business—something I wrote about earlier, when I was still asking whether I was “allowed” to create anything at all.
It didn’t feel like purpose then. It felt like survival.
Threads and boxes everywhere. Orders printed after the kids went to sleep.
But looking back now, I can see how even in the mess, grace was making room for something creative to live—even if I couldn’t name it yet.
Somehow, we were still smiling in pictures. Still showing up to therapy. Still managing grocery runs and bedtime stories. Still finding a way to keep going.
Looking back now, I can see the thread of grace running through it all. Not as a rescue. Not as a fix. But as presence.
Just like with Elijah.
God didn’t scold him for needing rest. He just let him sleep. Fed him. Spoke again only when Elijah was ready.
I keep thinking about that. How the journey wasn’t canceled just because Elijah paused. How grace made space for recovery before direction.
Becoming Isn’t Always Bright
There wasn’t a single turning point in that season. No breakthrough. No miracle resolution.
But there was change. Slow, internal, holy change.
And maybe that’s what grace does when we let it sink in.
It softens how we define strength. It loosens our grip on perfection. It gives us permission to be human again—to be tired and still worthy, overwhelmed and still becoming.
Maybe you’ve had a season like that, too.
One that didn’t make sense while you were in it. One you couldn’t explain to anyone else. One where the only thing that kept you upright was knowing that somehow, God had not walked away.
And maybe, like Elijah, you’re not supposed to climb the mountain yet. Maybe today, grace is just enough to lie down and rest.
If so, let me say this gently:
You’re not weak. You’re not failing. You’re just learning how to live inside grace.
Scripture to Hold Onto
“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’”
—2 Corinthians 12:9 (NIV)
Just Enough
Some days, grace looks like vision. Other days, it looks like survival.
But both are holy. And both are enough.
This was Blog Post #6 of 16: The Grace to Make Changes
From the Maybe I’m Supposed to Create Anyway series
I’d love to hear from you—what has grace looked like in your life lately?
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