Lauren Daigle – REACHING HURTING WOMEN MINISTRIES

In MY VICTORY VERSES, we will explore key Bible verses that have shaped my life recovery journey since 2005. After sharing how these verses impacted me, we will dive into their meaning and how they bring lasting victory. This column publishes on the 3rd Friday of each month in 2025.

“Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? … See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.” — Matthew 6:26-30 (NIV)

I’ve been reading The Answer to Anxiety by Joyce Meyer for my daily devotional—honestly, I think it may become a lifelong companion. On page 28, she shares her 4th key to overcoming anxiety: Trust God.

It sounds simple enough… but some days, it honestly feels a little scary. Trusting God isn’t always easy, especially when you’re a natural planner like me—someone who wants a clear step-by-step map before taking a leap of faith.

So, I asked the Lord, “How can I trust You better?”
And right then, my eyes drifted to a tree outside my window. I saw my pup Lola resting peacefully nearby. I noticed the flowers on my patio. And I remembered Jesus’ words in Matthew 6…

“Look at the birds… the flowers… the grass…”

And that was it.
That was my answer.

I want to be a bird.

I want to trust God like a bird—completely and instinctively, like it’s built into my DNA. I want to live a life so rooted in His care that I no longer strive to trust Him, I just do. Because He is who He says He is.

It’s funny—my husband is a visionary entrepreneur, and for him, trust seems to come easily. He’s wired to take risks and leap into the unknown. But for me, trust has been more like learning how to rest in midair, like a bird that’s learning to fly—wobbly, sometimes hesitant, but determined.

So, I asked God to give me a rhythm—something gentle, something real. Not a checklist, but a sacred practice.

A Gentle Path to Birdlike Trust

A Spirit-nurtured rhythm for learning to trust God

1. Notice the Provision (Morning Meditation)
  Each morning, look at something natural—birds, flowers, even your pup. Whisper:
  “Lord, I see how You care for this. Will You help me believe You care for me, too?”
2. Name the Fear (Honest Confession)
  Don’t pretend it’s easy. Say it plainly:
  “Lord, it’s hard for me to trust You with ___. I’m scared because ___. But I bring it to You anyway.”
3. Remember His Record (Faith Anchoring)
  Write down one time—big or small—that He’s come through for you.
  “You were faithful when ___. I remember, Lord.”
4. Release Control (The Bird Prayer)
  Speak this prayer or your own version. Then say:
  “I choose to release this. Help me trust like the bird—today, just for today.”
5. Receive His Peace (Stillness Practice)
  Sit for 2 minutes in silence, hands open.
  “I receive Your peace in place of my striving. I am Yours.”
6. Repeat Daily
  You may not feel different right away, but trust grows in repetition—like a bird building a nest, twig by twig.

A Prayer for Birdlike Trust

Lord, You said, “Look at the birds…” So today, I do.
I watch how they flutter without fear,
how they trust that each sunrise brings enough.

Teach me, Lord, to trust You like that—
to believe that You see me, feed me, know me, and hold me.

Make trust my default, not my last resort.
Build it into my bones,
bake it into my breath,
so that I don’t have to try so hard to believe—
I just do, like the birds and the lilies and the grass.

I don’t want to strive to trust You.
I want to live trust,
like it’s written in the rhythm of my soul.

I will trust You today,
not because everything is certain,
but because You are.

Amen.

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.