Bear With Me, Pray For Me

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18

Today Is a Day I’ll Never Forget...

It always hits different.

I remember driving home from the hospital — exhausted, numb, praying for a miracle I felt wasn’t coming...but I was so hopeful.

Hours later, around 3 a.m., the call came from my brother.

He didn’t say anything at first, just that we needed to get to the hospital. And as we drove, I felt it in my bones — that somehow, despite the fear and uncertainty, it was going to be okay. He drove with calm, steady hands, guiding my sister and me through the chaos without a single tremor in his voice.

But the silence…oh, the silence crushed my heart. Every unspoken thought, every quiet prayer, hung heavy in the air between us. It was the kind of quiet that doesn’t soothe, but stretches the moment into something almost unbearable — yet beautiful, because it held all the love and strength he was trying to show without words, even while he wanted to break down himself.

In that drive, I realized how much courage lives in quiet steadiness, and how love can speak volumes even when nothing is said.

And when we arrived...coming out of that elevator...That moment changed everything.

It still echoes in the quiet hours when the world feels too still.

This week is never easy for me. Neither are the holidays.

From November through January, it’s as if the world keeps celebrating while my spirit quietly aches.

Grief has a way of showing up even when you’ve learned how to smile through it — a familiar ache that sits quietly beside you, even on your best days.

But Sometimes STRENGTH LOOKS SILENT...Right?

I’ve endured a lot — more than most people realize.

I’ve mastered the art of showing up even when my heart is heavy.

I’ve smiled when I wanted to break down.

I’ve worked, created, parented, and prayed while carrying a weight that doesn’t have a name.

There’s an unspoken exhaustion that comes with being “the strong one.”

You carry pain differently — tucked behind jokes, deadlines, and responsibilities.

You keep moving because stopping feels dangerous.

But sometimes, surviving doesn’t mean you’re okay…

It just means you’re still standing.

And sometimes, strength is simply the choice to keep breathing through the ache.

“My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.” — 2 Corinthians 12:9

But I'VE BEEN OFF LATELY…

Can you tell?

It’s been harder to focus.

Deadlines blur together.

Creativity feels quiet.

Even the things that normally bring me joy — posting, designing, dreaming — feel heavy.

The only thing that keeps me grounded right now is my kids.

They’re my reminder that love continues, even when life feels paused.

It happens every year — the shift, the fog, the heaviness that rolls in without warning.

And the ones who truly know me can always tell when it starts.

But I’ve learned to lean into it instead of fighting it.

It’s not weakness.

It’s awareness — my spirit’s way of saying, “Pause here. Feel this. God is near.”

And then MY MOTHER'S WORD SPEAK...

Before my mom passed, she left me something that still feels like a heartbeat on paper:

“…you are a jewel. I love you. Be strong and know that I love you. I will always be with you.”

I read those words often — especially in weeks like this. I grab the canvas print and hold

it tight, while tears fall.

She wasn’t asking me to be perfect; she was reminding me that even broken jewels still shine.

“She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she laughs without fear of the future.” — Proverbs 31:25

Her words weren’t just comfort — they were instruction.

Be strong, yes. But also, allow yourself to feel.

Allow yourself to rest.

Allow yourself to remember.

Her love still teaches me how to live: with faith, with softness, and with strength that doesn’t

have to perform to be real.

But man, sometimes it’s so hard.

I only wish I was as strong as her.

I’m reminded daily that I’m not there yet —

but maybe her strength was never about arriving.

Maybe it was about showing up anyway.

And it seems she had that mastered.

One day, hopefully, I’ll be able to conquer it all like she did.

But BEAR WITH ME...

If I seem distant or quieter than usual…bear with me.

I’m not lost, I’m healing.

I’m remembering.

I’m reflecting.

I’m letting God do what only He can: make beauty from ashes.

This time of year, I don’t just miss my mom.

I miss the version of me that had her here…

the sound of her prayers,

the calm in her voice,

the certainty she carried.

I miss the way she brought everyone together,

how she somehow held everything together,

even in the midst of chaos.

But God has been my comfort through every tear, every night that felt too long,

every moment I didn’t have words for. And somehow, grace keeps showing up...quietly,

faithfully, endlessly.

The older I get, the more certain I become...that’s how she did it.

Not by her own strength,

but by God, and God alone.

“He will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning.” — Isaiah 61:3

To anyone walking through a silent storm — you’re not alone.

Your strength doesn’t have to look loud.

Your faith doesn’t have to look perfect.

And your healing doesn’t have to happen all at once.

Bear with me. Pray for me.

And if this season is heavy for you too — I’m praying for you, right back.

Because there is GRACE IN GRIEF...trust me I know.

If you’ve ever felt this — if these words find you where it hurts — listen…I know it’s not easy.

And as much as I hate to say it, there really is grace in grief.

But here’s a scripture to anchor to:

“Be still, and know that I am God.” — Psalm 46:10

Because every year brings a season that tests both strength and faith.

For me, this is that season — the one where the ache meets the altar.

Grief doesn’t vanish; it transforms.

It changes how we see God and how we see ourselves.

It deepens compassion, reshapes endurance, and humbles pride.

It reminds me that love never ends — it simply changes form:

from presence to memory,

from voice to echo,

from hand to heart.

You know…even the strongest jewels need polishing.

Even the bravest hearts need rest.

And even the most faithful souls need to be reminded:

you’re allowed to pause.

LISTEN, I don’t know your religious background, but my mother raised me never to forget where

my help comes from...and I have to honor God in this.

So if you don’t mind, I’m going to say this prayer. And if you need it, PRAY WITH ME:

God, thank You for meeting me in the quiet places where words fall short.

Help me honor the memories without getting lost in them.

Teach me to find beauty in the in-between, grace in the grieving, and peace in the pause.

When my strength runs out, remind me that Yours never does.

Amen.

If this message spoke to your heart today, continue your journey in our companion devotional,

Bear With Me. Pray With Me, and walk through the 7-Day Mini Plan to reflect, pray, and let God

meet you where you are.

-Jolie Belle