The Narrow Way

There was a time when I thought healing was just for me.

I thought maybe if I could just breathe again,
Just survive, just move forward,
That would be enough.

And it is.
But Jesus has been showing me something deeper.
Something bolder.
Something holy.

This is bigger than me.

Because every tear I cried in silence,
He’s using it to comfort someone else.
Every scar I thought disqualified me,
He’s turning it into a map for someone else’s healing.

This is what God does.
He takes our personal breakthrough
And turns it into a public blessing.

Not because I’m trying to be seen.
But because He wants to be known.

He is multiplying the pain I walked through into purpose for generations I may never meet.
My story is not just for journals and late-night prayers anymore.
It’s for daughters.
It’s for communities.
It’s for women and men who think they’re alone.

Because when God heals you,
He also anoints you.
Not just to survive, but to build.

Isaiah 61:4 says,
“They will rebuild the ancient ruins and restore the places long devastated; they will renew the ruined cities that have been devastated for generations.”

That’s legacy.
That’s impact.
That’s what happens when a woman says yes to healing, and yes to God.

It starts with survival,
But it doesn’t end there.
Because when I chose healing, I was also choosing to break generational patterns.
I was choosing to speak up so others could rise.
I was choosing to let God do something in me that would outlive me.

And maybe that’s the part that undoes me the most:
The healing I’m walking in now is planting seeds in soil I may never see fully bloom.
But I trust the One who waters.

I trust the One who called me out of hiding,
Who gave me a voice,
Who walked me through the fire,
And said, “Now go. It’s time to build.”

So yes, this story is mine.
But it doesn’t stop with me.
This fire is mine.
But it was lit to ignite others.

If you’ve ever wondered why you had to survive what you did,
Maybe it’s because you’re the one who’s going to lead others out.
Maybe you’re the one who says, “It stops here. It stops with me.”
Maybe your legacy starts the moment you realize this is bigger than you.

And that’s not a burden… it’s an honor.
Because I get to carry healing.
I get to carry hope.
I get to be a living, breathing testimony that God really does turn ashes into beauty.

So no, I don’t take this lightly.
I know what it cost to get here.
But I also know who gets the glory.

Jesus does.

This is bigger than me.
And I wouldn’t want it any other way.