The Narrow Way

All I’ve ever known is hard.

Pain, pressure, survival… it’s been the rhythm of my life for as long as I can remember.

I’ve had to be tough just to make it.

To keep breathing.

To keep showing up.

But somewhere deep inside, I ache for softness.

I ache to feel safe enough to let my guard down.

I want to know what it’s like to be gentle with myself.

To be held, not hurt.

To stop fighting for a minute and just be.

And if I’m honest, I’m scared.

Scared I’ll never meet the real me, the version of me God had in mind before the world got loud, before the trauma rewrote my wiring.

I’m afraid I’ll miss her.

That I’ll go through life numb, hardened by survival, never fully stepping into who I was created to be.

But even in the fear, there’s a whisper.

A pull.

A flicker of hope.

Because I know Jesus didn’t die so I could just survive.

He came so I could live… fully, freely, honestly.

He knows the real me, even when I don’t.

And He’s not afraid of my mess or my walls.

He’s patient.

He’s kind.

And I believe He’s leading me back to myself, back to the me He always saw, even when I couldn’t see her at all.

So I’m holding onto Him.

Because if anyone can take this broken, hardened heart and make it soft again, it’s Jesus.