Last week, my notifications here said I had written a thousand posts. I would have never known; I don’t count. But as I reflected on this journey, I realized they were not Love letters written from me; they were Love Letters written to me from God. I share them with you as the LORD wants all of His children to know Him and be known by Him. Day’s Journey is just another instrument;
Jesus is LORD.
I didn’t write these posts or pages all at once, nor did I create them from a place of distance or theory. I wrote them during a journey—each one that unfolded slowly through prayer, reflection, and the quiet work of God restoring what had been wounded.
For many years, shame, silence, fear, and misunderstanding buried parts of my story. Yet as truth began to replace the lies I had carried, I discovered that the chains that once bound my soul were not unbreakable. One by one, the links loosened as I learned to sit in God’s presence and listen for His voice.
I also realized some chains weren’t holding me. I was holding on to them. There were chains I held so tight, I bled on others.
My testimony here in Day’s Journey was and is not meant to offer quick solutions or simple answers. I will not tell you what you want to hear.
Heart healing rarely happens that way. Instead, these reflections invite you on a journey—one that includes moments of honesty, Sacred Pause, prayer, and the gentle guidance of God’s Word—showing how faith-based practices can draw you closer to Jesus and how He brings real freedom and hope. I won’t give you dry crumbs to satisfy your hunger. The Holy Spirit will teach us how to live close to Him. Words are just words without the Word.
The Sacred Pauses gently invite you to slow down, helping you feel safe and calm as you reflect and breathe before God.
I hope that Day’s Journey becomes a companion for those who feel bound by invisible chains—whether forged by pain, fear, silence, or misunderstanding-such as feelings of worthlessness, shame, or spiritual emptiness. If even one reader discovers that hope is still possible and that God’s Love has not abandoned them, then these pages will have fulfilled their purpose.
The journey described here is not about perfection. It is about learning to walk with God one step at a time. For me, it meant walking out of the darkness and into His wonderful Light each day, because I lived in constant fear. Little did I know that sometimes the smallest step forward becomes the beginning of freedom.
An Invitation to the Table
The Table is set; the meal is prepped, and your place mat has your name on it. Isaiah 55 invites you to pause, listen, and sit at the Groom’s banquet table, where the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit welcome every searching heart into fellowship, healing, and truth. You don’t have to bring anything; the Spirit says, “Come.”
I didn’t write the reflections that follow all at once, nor did I gather them from a distant past. Many of them were born during the very journey they describe. Some were written in caves, some in the wilderness, some in grief, and some at the Table of fellowship.
Love letters from God encouraged me and helped me take one more breath, and one more step.
For years, parts of my story remained buried beneath layers of shame, silence, fear, and misunderstanding. But as truth began to break the chains that once bound my soul, the memories, lessons, and prayers began to flow like a river. Each reflection became a place where I paused long enough to notice God’s hand at work—guiding, correcting, healing, and gently revealing that He had been present all along.
As a result, you will notice a rhythm woven throughout these pages. A Sacred Pause and a prayer follow each reflection. These moments are not meant to be rushed. They are invitations to slow down, breathe, and bring your own thoughts before God. In the Pause, you may find yourself sitting beside a quiet spring, walking a mountain path with Jesus, resting in a garden at dawn, or listening for the Lord’s whisper in a quiet cave.
These sacred moments are simply places where the heart can grow still enough to recognize His presence and hear His gentle guidance.
These reflections come from my own journey, but the invitation in these pages is not limited to women alone. The soul’s wounds belong to no one gender. Many men have carried silent burdens for years, believing they must endure them alone. Yet the Love of Christ welcomes every wounded heart—man or woman—into the same freedom, healing, and fellowship with God.
Sacred Pause and Prayer of Repentance.
A Sacred Pause invites you to slow down and become still before the Lord.
For years, my heart raced as though I was constantly in a hurry. I remembered all the times I injured myself because I hurried and became clumsy. But one day, the Spirit said, “Slow down; I am not in a hurry. I made the sun and the moon, and they obey Me.”
Joshua prayed, asking God to extend the day. I remembered how many times hurry tried to rush me during prayer, time with loved ones, time with my children, or time with friends. One day a doctor at the hospital said, “Kick hurry out!”
Sacred Pause was born from fear and tears as I sat in corners, trying to breathe slowly. I remembered the doctor’s kind instruction.
“Breath in, breath out slowly counting, 1, 2, 3, 4.”
It is a moment to step away from hurry, noise, and reaction so that the heart can begin to notice what God is doing. I moved too quickly through pain, questions, and even Scripture itself. In my haste, I missed many of the beautiful lessons God was trying to show me. But in the Pause, I began to see, hear, and understand more clearly. My counselor said it was because my brain was on high alert. She was right; I began to understand things more clearly and attain what I was learning.
As you come to each Sacred Pause, I will invite you to imagine yourself visiting with the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Imagine sitting at the Table with Them and sharing a meal. Bring your struggles honestly, like a child who knows he is deeply loved and cared for. Here, you are safe enough to speak your heart’s truth.
Pause long enough to listen for Love calling your name. You will be distracted; don’t worry. God understands, and He is patient.
Imagine His compassionate gaze. He loves you.
Be still enough to recognize that He has always seen you, always cared for you, and has never turned away.
Then, in that place of fellowship, let repentance become natural—not as a religious ritual, but as the honest response of a heart returning to Love. Repent for doubting His care. Repent for believing lies that kept your soul bound. And pray for His help and guidance as a beloved child seeking the wisdom of a faithful Father.
These moments are included in the reflections as an invitation: to pause,
to listen, to return, and to be loved in the presence of God.
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Sacred Imagery
Imagery has always helped me understand things that words alone could not explain.
As a child, like most children, when life felt overwhelming, I pictured quiet places—streams of water, open fields, or a peaceful place where I could sit and breathe. Those images became small refuges for my heart. Now that I am older, I believe Sacred Imagery was a gift from God.
When my children were young and afraid, I spoke softly and guided them through imagery. We would imagine being at their favorite place. My daughter always imagined gummy bears jumping into a lake. I suggested it would be a lake filled with chocolate. We would giggle, and she would carry her dreams in her sleep.
I also realized that Scripture often invites us into the same kind of sacred imagery. God speaks of still waters, green pastures, mountains of refuge, and tables prepared with care. These images slow us down and help us carry them into our day, reminding us of His Presence, letting us experience His Presence, and helping us thank Him, rather than merely think about it.
For me, these images became part of the Sacred Pause. They gave my heart a place to rest long enough to see that God had been present all along.
For many years I wondered why my mind returned to quiet places when life became overwhelming. As a child, I often imagined peaceful scenes—a flowing stream, a quiet hillside, or a place under a giant oak —where I could sit and breathe or lie down and rest.
Later, when I began working on my mental health, I learned that counselors sometimes use imagery to help people calm their anxious thoughts. What I once questioned about myself was actually something the human heart often does when it is searching for safety.
Looking back now, I believe God was gently giving my mind a refuge.
Those quiet inner places became spaces where I could slow down, reflect, and eventually begin to hear His voice more clearly. What once felt like a strange habit became a doorway into stillness, prayer, and healing.
Sometimes the ways we survive difficult seasons later become the tools God uses to guide us toward restoration.
Prayer
Prayer is not simply asking God for things. It is a conversation with the One who created us and knows our hearts more deeply than we know them ourselves. In prayer, we speak honestly, listen quietly, and let our hearts return to God’s presence.
Everything begins with Him. Everything is centered in Him, and Everything Ends with Him.
Scripture tells us that the Lord is the Alpha and the Omega—the beginning and the end. But He is not only the beginning and the end of our journey; He is also its center. When we begin with prayer, we acknowledge that our understanding, our healing, and our growth do not come from our own strength alone. They come from walking in relationship with God.
For this reason, prayer appears often throughout these pages.
Not to appease a sleepy god, not as a ritual, nor as a formula. Prayer led by the Holy Spirit.
I no longer think of prayer as a way to appease God. I was also too angry to talk to God, but when God invited me to speak freely, everything changed. Prayer became an invitation. An invitation to speak openly with the Father, listen for His wisdom, and let His Spirit guide our hearts as we reflect on each lesson.
Prayer creates space for truth to settle deeply within us.
I once threw words out with tears, hoping He would notice me; I didn’t know He bent down and wiped my tears too.
In these moments, we pause, breathe, and remember we are not walking this journey alone.
We are walking it with God. He loves you, cares about you, and will help you through everything you encounter.
These reflections aren’t meant to be quick sayings or small souvenirs to carry away and forget.
They were part of every journey.
Each reflection is a place where God revealed something new to my heart.
Some chains I have not let go of.
For this reason, the prayers, the Sacred Pauses, and the imagery woven throughout these pages are not decorations. They are part of the process that helped me listen, reflect, and grow.
They testify to a journey—one in which God has patiently broken chains, revealed truth, and replaced old links with new ones formed through Love, faith, and understanding.
And because this journey continues, the story is not finished.
But every step along the way gives glory to the One who has been faithful from the beginning.
Soli Deo Gloria.