In MY VICTORY VOYAGE I’m sharing various trials I’ve faced and how God’s faithfulness has carried me through. Join me on the 2nd Friday of each month in 2025 as we reflect on His restoration and grace.
You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book. — Psalm 56:8 (NLT)
Preface: This post comes from a deep place in my personal journey. I write it with humility—not to accuse or expose, but to process what God is teaching me about love, surrender, and the long road of restoration. If you’re carrying heartbreak of your own, I pray my story gives you courage to keep walking with Jesus—especially when the path is painful.
Turning 68 this month feels… surreal. Gratitude and grief swirl together in my heart as I reflect on the road I’ve traveled. I’ve lived a full life—one filled with sacrifice, joy, mistakes, forgiveness, and deep, enduring love. But there’s a silent pain that rises in me as this birthday approaches: the estrangement of adult children.
For years, all our children were distant. By God’s grace, one has come back to us. Their perspective, now shaped by the responsibilities of adulthood and parenting, has brought a gentler understanding to the years we labored to raise them well. They know now how hard it is—how easy it is to fall short, and how much love can live in the same heart that sometimes gets things wrong. But others still remain estranged with no children of their own.
This past Mother’s Day carried a quiet ache. When your role as a mother goes unacknowledged, especially by those you gave everything for, it can feel like being erased. I held my peace that day—but not because I wasn’t hurting. I was. It’s because I believe healing comes from the Lord, not from social media.
Some days, the ache feels unbearable. I made mistakes. I own them. But I also gave my life to raise my children with everything I had, doing the best I knew how to at the time. I set aside a college education, a career, and in almost ten years of homeschooling I poured myself into motherhood. I sacrificed my body, my dreams, and countless nights of sleep. I loved them fiercely. I still do.
And yet… here we are.
Even so, I return to the altar. Again, and again. I lay my children down with trembling hands and say, “Lord, they are Yours.” I ask Him to do what only He can do: bring salvation, correction, and restoration in His time.
Even in my sorrow, I am held.
Even in heartbreak, I walk in victory.
Not because everything is right, but because God is still good.
He has kept me. He is not finished.