No More Jesus At A Distance

Life has a way of unraveling in ways we never expect. Dreams I once held so tightly slip through my fingers like sand, and the treasures I thought would bring security sometimes feel more like weight on my shoulders. There are days when I can barely hold it together, when exhaustion seeps into my bones and I wonder how much more I can carry.

I can’t control where tomorrow is going. I’ve learned that the hard way. Plans crumble, certainty fades, and life throws storms that no amount of preparation could ever withstand. Tim’s battle with PNES, the crushing weight of being both provider and caregiver, the exhaustion of fighting forward every single day—it’s a road that no one could have prepared me for. And just when I think I’ve found my footing, the ghosts of my yesterdays come calling, whispering doubts, fears, and regrets.

Who am I when there’s no one else around? When the sun comes up and the weight of the day settles in, when the sun goes down and I’m left alone with my thoughts—who am I then? Some days, I feel strong. Other days, I am barely standing. But through it all, I know one thing for certain: I don’t want to walk this road at a distance from the One who holds it all.

No more Jesus at a distance. No more pushing Him away when the weight of life feels unbearable. No more trying to do it all on my own, as if my strength alone could ever be enough. I’ve spent too much time trying to hold everything together, when all along, I was never meant to do it alone.

I don’t want to settle for the back. I don’t want to live my faith in the shadows, only reaching for God when I have nothing left. I want Him at the center of it all—through the brokenness, through the struggle, through the exhaustion. I want Him to be the first one I turn to, not the last.

Because when I let Him in—really let Him in—peace finds its way into the storm. Strength rises when I feel weakest. And even when life doesn’t make sense, even when the road ahead is uncertain, I know I am not walking it alone.

So, no more distance. No more hesitation. I am stepping forward in faith, trusting that even when I can’t see what’s ahead, He is already there. Holding me. Guiding me. Carrying me.

And that is enough.