The Narrow Way

I’m still in it.

I haven’t arrived.

The pages of my story are still being written, and some days, the ink smudges with tears.

But God is still speaking.

Jesus is still teaching.

And therapy is still stretching me.

What else am I learning?

I’m learning that being honest isn’t the same as being bitter.

That telling the truth doesn’t make me divisive, it makes me free.

Because healing can’t happen where lies still live.

And Jesus never once told people to stay silent about their pain.

He welcomed their cries.

He responded to their desperation.

He stopped for the ones who had been ignored.

So I’m learning to speak.

To open my mouth.

To unlearn the fear that made me quiet for so long.

And Jesus is showing me that my voice has value… not just when I’m encouraging others, but when I’m telling the truth about what hurt me.

I’m learning that I don’t have to be strong all the time.
That my softness isn’t weakness.

That tears are not proof I’m falling apart, they’re proof I’m still alive.

Still feeling.

Still here.

Jesus is teaching me to stop hiding the broken places.

Because He never asked me to bring perfection to Him, only honesty.

He’s not afraid of my process.

He’s not frustrated by my pace.

He’s not counting the days it takes to forgive or heal… He’s walking with me through every one of them.

I’m learning that I’m allowed to grow beyond who they knew me to be.

That I’m allowed to change.

That I’m allowed to outgrow the rooms that once made me shrink.

That healing sometimes looks like becoming unrecognizable to the people who benefited from my silence.

I’m learning how to rest again.
How to laugh without guilt.
How to show up for myself the way I’ve always shown up for everyone else.

Jesus is teaching me how to live with an open heart… even after the betrayal.

How to love without losing myself.

How to trust without handing away all of my power.

And how to stay rooted in Him, not in who accepts me, not in who believes me, not in who sticks around… but in the One who never left in the first place.

What else am I learning?

That I am still worthy of goodness.
Still worthy of gentleness.
Still worthy of love that doesn’t hurt.

I’m learning that trauma may have shaped part of my story, but it does not get to have the final word.

Jesus does.

And He’s writing something new.

Something redemptive.

Something that looks like resurrection.

So I’m still in therapy.

I’m still in process.

But more than anything, I’m still in His hands.

And that’s where healing begins.

And that’s where it will continue.