Scripture Anchor: Joel 2:25
“I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten…”
— Joel 2:25
When the director invited me to coach 5th and 6th-grade cross country, I felt overwhelmed with anxiety. I could barely sleep. My mind was restless, my body was tense, and something deep inside of me seemed to awaken.
At first, I did not understand what was happening.
Then I realized it was a younger part of me—the 6th-grade girl who once loved sports, teammates, laughter, practice fields, and games. She had been asleep for many years. Actually, for decades.
I remembered being part of a team. Softball. Volleyball. Kickball. Track. I remembered how much I loved to play. I remembered the joy of belonging, moving, running, competing, laughing, and being with my teammates.
But I also remembered the trauma that closed the door to that part of my life.
The last day I played was the last day I saw my cousin on the school grounds, where we all gathered to practice softball and other sports. We waved at each other as though we were saying goodbye for the day. But later, I learned that goodbye was different. My cousin was killed in an accident shortly after he rode his bike home; he forgot his baseball glove. When he was returning to the field, he was struck by a truck.
He was only twelve years old.
After that day, I did not play sports anymore. Something in me stopped running. Something in me stopped playing. Something in me stopped growing in that place. My life went in a direction of darkness, confusion, grief, and survival.
The lights went out on the field for me that day.
But God.
Years later, when I was asked to coach, I realized that the little girl inside of me was still alive. She had not disappeared. She had only been hidden, waiting in a place of sorrow until the Lord’s healing Presence came near.
And she wanted to be on the team.
For days, I could not sleep until I finally acknowledged her. I listened to her. I made room for her. I agreed to let her help me coach.
And after that, I finally rested.
What I thought might be me losing my mind was actually the Lord bringing a wounded place into the Light. He was not taking me backward to hurt me. He was taking me back to restore me.
The Bible says, “I will restore to you the years that the locust has eaten.” The Lord was allowing that promise to become more than words on a page. He was letting me experience it.
He was returning me to the field.
He was turning the lights back on.
He was giving me back what grief, trauma, fear, and darkness had stolen. And through coaching, I began to experience pieces of the childhood that had been interrupted. I began to grow in places where my growth had been stunted.
The Lord did not erase what happened.
But He entered it.
He did not pretend the loss was not real.
But He showed me that loss would not have the final word.
Sometimes restoration looks like standing in a place where you once broke and realizing you are no longer alone. Sometimes healing looks like coaching children at the same age you were when something inside of you stopped. Sometimes God lets the younger places within us come forward, not to lead us into the past, but to remind us that nothing He loves is truly lost.
The little girl who loved being on the team was still alive.
And by the mercy of God, she got to run again.
Sacred Pause
Lord, is there a place in me where the lights went out?
Is there a younger part of my heart that stopped growing because of grief, fear, trauma, or loss?
Jesus, meet me there.
Turn the lights back on.
Restore what the locusts have eaten.
Prayer of Repentance and Restoration
Lord Jesus,
You are the Light of life, and You know every place in me where sorrow shut the door.
I repent for believing that what was stolen could never be restored. I repent for agreeing with fear, grief, and darkness when they told me that joy, belonging, and childlike wonder were gone forever. Forgive me for the times I buried wounded parts of myself instead of bringing them to You.
Lord, I surrender the fields where the lights went out. I surrender the memories that still ache. I surrender the little one within me who stopped running, stopped playing, and stopped believing she still belonged.
Call her into Your healing Presence. Let her know she is safe with You. Let her know she is not forgotten. Let her know she is still welcome on the team.
Restore what the locusts have eaten. Restore what trauma interrupted. Restore what grief silenced. Restore what fear buried.
Thank You, Lord, that You do not waste our pain. Thank You that You can bring us back to the very place where sorrow entered and let us find You standing there with mercy, healing, and resurrection life.
Turn the lights back on, Lord.
Let the child within me run again.
Let every restored place give glory to You.
In Jesus’ Name,
Amen.
Soli Deo Gloria