04/03/2026
This Holy Week, Jesus met me at the river.
I was done. I was angry with God, asking Him why He would do this to me, telling Him I’m not strong enough and that I can’t handle any more. And then I heard it so clearly: “Be still… and know.” That stirred something in me, so I stayed. I slowed down. I let myself feel everything I had been trying to outrun, and He met me there.
Shortly after that, I noticed the only flowers around me. They stood out so clearly. And then a little girl and her mom, who had been playing on the river bank across from me, came over and asked if I needed prayer. I completely broke down and said yes.
The mother held my hands in hers, and the little girl placed her hand over mine. I opened my eyes for a moment and saw her curls blowing in the wind. It felt so gentle, so intentional.
As they walked away, I heard the little girl say, “God loves her so much.”
Then a man across the river started playing his guitar. After a bit, he walked all the way around to me and apologized for being loud while I was trying to relax. I laughed and told him, “Metallica is my favorite, so it was actually very soothing and appreciated.”
He let me tell him why I was sad, and then he looked at me and said, “You know what to do. You just have to listen… and know.” He gave me a hug- one of the most genuine hugs I’ve ever felt- and then he walked away.
I kept walking after that, miles, just trying to process everything and catch my breath.
Eventually, I couldn’t anymore. I fell to my knees in the grass, lifted my face to the sun, and just surrendered. Then I felt it—a heavy hand on my shoulder. It was an older man praying over me, calm and gentle, and then he quietly walked away.
A few moments later, I ran into a friend I hadn’t seen in forever, right when I needed it most.
None of it felt random. It felt like God was covering me, like He sent people to meet me in my breaking point so I wouldn’t be alone in it, because I was ready to give up.
But He called me into stillness, into Selah, to quiet my mind, to sit in the pain instead of running from it, and to let Him meet me there. And He did.
Sometimes I still feel like I’m hanging on by a thread, but that thread is at the hem of His garment, so I know I’ll always be okay.
