Life is funny, isn’t it? I somehow seem to ride the same roller coaster of extremes lately. One minute I’m high above the fray and looking through a clear lens with God as the hope of my horizon. And then, like all decently designed roller coasters, I am dropped into the depths of what I can barely tolerate, holding my breath and anticipating the moment I can refill my lungs with air. It’s exhilarating and maddening all at the same time.

Most days, I have a hard time remembering what normal actually feels like. Even so, as I look back over the years of my faith journey, God has taught me one thing for sure—I’m never alone (Isaiah 41:10). He’s been with me as I have led our family over the last decade as a single mom. Fearless leader, definitely not. Courageous in spite of my fear, heck yeah!

Honestly, I believe that is what’s required more often than not—courage in the face of fear. Especially when answers are scarce, and the road is paved with obstacles and detours and mines meant to blow us off course—it’s courage that takes the faith map in hand and navigates a new normal.

If we could see this faith map from a vantage point far above, we’d see that God is there, clearing the path before us and hemming us in from behind. Each step and each course correction is on purpose. Not because we deserve this type of allegiance, but because it’s who He is and what He does.

Admittedly so, part of the challenge of this crazy life is pain. Sorry people, pain is inevitable and the quicker we can embrace it as part of the bigger picture of our story, the quicker God can use it for a really cool benefit.

Pain, in and of itself is not fun. It stinks. I get it. And although pain, by design, has a purpose, it also has this way of making us do crazy things. I for one can admit to numbing out when my children needed me most—guilty! Lashing out at friends and family trying to help—guilty! Turning against myself because I don’t know what else to do—yes, guilty as charged.

I hope you can’t relate, but if you can, my heart aches for you if you are in that place of pain right now. I know that place. I’ve been there more times than I can count. It steals your breath like a hit from a bully—quick and unassuming, and stands over you with a taunting and heavy presence, challenging you to scream uncle.

My best advice is to try and fight the thing through. Hold on for dear life and don’t let the pain win. Honor it for a time. Allow it the space to reveal what needs to be known in order to heal. But then, after we’ve mourned and processed our pain in a healthy way, we can give it back Him. He can and will redeem it. But only if we let Him.

Perhaps we can’t change the past, but we can change our future. I experienced this first hand after my husband died. Once I had taken time to mourn and process my pain, my mom gave me a gift of wisdom. She told me to keep my eyes open and expectant, and that one day God would turn what I had suffered—the brutal, raw, and unfair circumstances of this life—into something beautiful and purposeful called precious pain.

Her words about precious pain resonated in my heart. I pondered what they meant and carried them with cautious hope. It didn’t happen quickly. In fact, this unique metamorphosis happened in the middle of the mundane. Amongst routine moments when I was busy getting on with life.

I waited for it to be true. And you know what? It’s true today. It became true when I allowed my faith to override my anger, my fear, and my entitlement. A change happened not only inside me but around me. I love that. The effects not only changed me but also changed my children.

Our family has a rhythm now. We have learned to walk in step for the greater good. We have learned to compensate for our weakest links and smile in spite of the pain bully. It doesn’t hold the same power over us as before because we’ve learned God can make anything beautiful. And because of that, we are stronger.

What I’ve learned as I live this wild ride called life is that our responsibility is to show up. Just show up. Be present. Be accountable. Be open. And surrender. Keep your eyes open my friend, and be expectant for God to turn your heartache into precious pain. I promise He can and He will.

Reflect and Respond:

Do you have a God Story? Has He turned a painful and difficult situation or season into a tempered place of unique beauty? Or perhaps you are still in a holding pattern waiting to see His hand shift the scales? Don’t give up. Keep your eyes open, the unique beauty of precious pain is on the horizon.

Hugs for a great week and remember, you are not alone. Be blessed and be expectant of divine transformation.