Finding Life in the Mundane
Lately, I’ve had to make some decisions I never thought I would, and I’ve had to set boundaries in relationships that once felt boundary-less.
Sometimes, amid loss and disappointment, you can find yourself lost in them—almost drowning.
The other day, I took some time to release every heartbreaking circumstance and every person attached to those circumstances. I told God, I can’t hold onto this and be who You’ve called me to be.
I have a very vivid inner world, as some might say, and as I’ve grown, I’ve learned to steward that part of me in my relationship with God. Oftentimes when I pray, I close my eyes and visualize my prayers at work. Something about this amplifies my faith as I pray.
As I released these individuals and circumstances, I envisioned myself surrounded by every person I once fell victim to. Honestly, I was surprised by how many people stood motionless around me.
In the past, moments like this would’ve sent me spiraling—downward into a deep, dark depressive state. I would harbor disappointment, burying it so deeply that I no longer felt the need to name it. But what I refused to acknowledge still existed, quietly weighing on me day after day.
Over time, God has taught me a better way—one that invites honesty, encourages healing, and makes room for His redemption.
Now, when disappointment comes, it sends me to my knees. I let myself feel what is real without letting it define who I am. I name it, bring it into the light, and then place it back into God’s hands. Surrender has become my response.
In that prayer…
I envisioned a crack form between two of the people as they shifted apart. I stepped through the opening, and as I exited, a bright light filled the space I left behind. The words rose in my heart: “I’ll take it from here.” God stepping in where I could no longer stand—His strength made perfect in my weakness.
Through prayer and surrender, you find relief and healing—not because the disappointments no longer exist or sting, but because surrender does something profoundly powerful. It makes room for the arrival of a God who sees all, knows all, and loves you too much to leave you without divine intervention.
In walking out, I chose to leave behind what felt breaking and step into what was life-giving.
“Life-giving” doesn’t necessarily mean prayers answered in ways we expect. Sometimes it simply means the present. Wherever you are now is where life is. It’s up to you whether or not you allow the dead situations of your past to join you there.
After this vivid prayer, my 15-year-old niece called me for advice. It just so happened that her journey has mirrored much of mine lately. And the very thing I was believing God for in my own life was the very thing I had to speak and pray over her life.
That conversation sealed what had already begun happening inside of me.
I told her to hold on to what’s good—even if it feels mundane. Hardship has a way of revealing the blessings we so often miss in our day to day.
Loss makes you appreciate what remains just a little more, doesn’t it?
I encouraged her to recognize the everyday blessings—her siblings, her parents, the one good friend she has left, her livelihood—and to thank God.
What once felt easy to take for granted now feels like water in a desert: life-giving.
We ended by remembering who God has always been—a way maker. The God who parts seas. The God who casts down and exalts in one breath. The God who brings pregnancy to the barren. The God who, time and time again, makes something out of nothing. The God who redeems and restores.
And as I spoke those truths aloud, I realized I was also reminding myself. Like David in Psalm 103, my soul was being called back to praise—not because circumstances had resolved, but because God had not changed.
I remembered that because of who He is to me, no matter what the present feels like, as long as breath is in my lungs and Jesus is on my side, victory is inevitable.
