“How can I help my friend? Her husband has been unfaithful to her.” It’s a question that lands in my inbox all too often. I’ve hesitated to write openly about this subject, not because I don’t want to help, but because it requires me to revisit parts of my past that I’d rather leave buried.

But God never wastes pain, and I believe it’s time for me to allow Him to use even these parts of my past for His glory.

Before I begin, I want you to know I’m not a licensed counselor. My school is the school of experience, and the degrees I’ve earned are the scars on my heart. God has brought me to a place of healing, and I share my story with the prayer that it will help others come to that same place of healing.

In 2014, I lost my 16-year marriage to adultery. My husband and I were heavily involved in church and Christian school ministries, and of course those ministries came to an abrupt end. We lived in Australia at the time, and my three sons and I moved back to the States to start over.

Not only did I have to deal with the betrayal and shame of losing my marriage, I also had to help my boys cope with the separation and subsequent divorce, and losing their friends, school, church, home, and native country all in one fell swoop. Add to that the stress of looking for a job, a place to live, and a thousand other details of moving internationally, and I was broken.

No, broken isn’t the right word. I was shattered.

Into so many pieces I feared I would never be whole again.

But through the all-sufficient grace and love of Jesus, and with the faithful help of my friends and family, I now live a life filled with peace and joy. My purpose with this blog post is to give you insight into ways you can help someone living in the aftermath of of their spouse’s adultery.

Although this article is focusing on how you can help others, I’ll also post quick links below to four articles I’ve written on healing—a series is called Silver Linings: Reflections in a Broken Marriage. You can access them here:

It’s Okay to Protect Yourself so You can Heal

In Order to Heal, You must Grieve

Healing Involves Choices

You Won’t Always Feel This Way

In the following paragraphs, I’ll attempt to give you a glimpse into the heart of one who has been betrayed. Please don’t feel like you are unable to help a friend just because you haven’t experienced what she is going through. None of my close friends in Australia experienced adultery, but God used them in amazing ways to help me. Their love was a balm to my broken heart.

Today I’ll share three things your friend is feeling, and three ways you can help her cope with these feelings. In Part Two, I’ll share more practical ways you can encourage her.

One: She feels INTENSE emotional pain.

It’s extremely difficult to fully describe the feelings of betrayal in marriage. I once had a friend ask me how it felt. I said this:

You know those beautiful glass sculptures? Imagine someone swinging a hammer into one, and it splinters into thousands of pieces. The sound of those pieces shattering and raining down—if the pain of my heart had a sound, that would be it. It’s the sound my heart makes every waking moment. The hammer just keeps smashing, and the pieces just keep breaking.

Another way to describe it is this:

It’s like trusting the one you love most to keep you from falling over a steep cliff. He held your hands, looked deeply into your eyes, and pledged that he would never, ever let you fall. He even said he would die for you. But when you stumbled, he didn’t just move out of the way to let you fall over the cliff.

He pushed you.

These are hard descriptions to read, I know. But this is what your friend is feeling. She has been betrayed in the most intimate area of her life, and now she wonders if she ever was truly loved, or if her entire marriage relationship was a lie.

What you can do to help:

Be there for her, grieve with her, hold her, cry with her, and share her pain.

I know it sounds cliche to say, Be there for her. But hear me when I say, she needs you. She cannot carry this intense pain on her own. Our bodies were not created to cope with death (God created Adam and Eve to live in a perfect world), and adultery is the death of trust, the death of a relationship, and often the death of a marriage. We cannot cope with death on our own.

Don’t be afraid to cry with her. She will gain strength from your tears.

I will never forget how my pastor had to pull his car over to the side of the road because he couldn’t see through the tears he shed for me and my family. And I’ll never forget how two of my friends stood in a blackberry patch, pleading with God to help me. Rain began to pour as tears slid down their cheeks, but they stood in the rain, praying and crying for me.

Share your friend’s grief and pain. Your tears will help her heal.

Two: She feels completely unattractive.

I’m not talking about the annoyance of having a bad hair day, or the dissatisfaction we feel when we’ve gained a few pounds. I’m talking about looking in the mirror and absolutely loathing what you see. I’m talking about standing in the shower and hating every inch of yourself. I’m talking about crying gut-wrenching, soul-rending sobs, thinking if I just looked better, he wouldn’t have done it.

(Which is a complete lie, by the way. Adultery isn’t the result of not having an attractive partner or not having one’s needs met. It’s a matter of having a sexual, addictive sin that one refuses to confront.) I know those things now, but I didn’t then, and it took me a long time to accept the fact that the sins of another person/people were not my fault.

What you can do to help:

Reassure your friend that she is both beautiful and loved. Tell her in person, in cards, in text messages. It will be a long time before she believes you, but keep telling her until she does. She may be doubting the love of God, and one of the ways He assures her of His love is through YOU.

Three: She feels physically disoriented, and may need reminders to take care of herself.

I am in no way anorexic, but in the days following our family’s tragedy, I was nearly unable to eat. I simply couldn’t tolerate food, and I dropped six pounds in less than 48 hours. One of my friends noticed, and she did something about it.

Knowing my favorite snack was salted cashews, she bought me a small bag and slipped it to me. She asked to me try to eat one every once in awhile to see if it would coax me back into eating.

It worked. To this day, when I see a bag of cashews, I remember my sweet friend and how she helped get nutrition into my body when I was in too much anguish to care about eating.

In closing, I’d like to share a couple verses that sum up all these things.

“Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labor. For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up.” (Ecclesiastes 4:9-10)

When experiencing the betrayal of a spouse, the temptation to give up on life—on everything—is very strong. Your friend will not have the desire to get up again when she stumbles. She will have days where she just wants to lie in the mud where she fell and die.

That’s why it’s so important that you stay by her side. She will fall, and if you’re there to help her up, she’ll be okay.

Don’t leave her alone.

“Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort; Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God.” (II Corinthians 1:3-4)

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Part Four: You won’t always feel this way.

It was a terrifying experience.

Several years ago, I caught a respiratory illness that caused me to have bronchial spasms, cutting off my airway.

These spasms would come out of nowhere. It could happen during the day, in the middle of the night—anytime I coughed. One minute I could breathe, the next I’d be writhing in a panic on the floor, unable to take a breath.

Fortunately, doctors were able to get the spasms under control with a strong steroid. But I still struggled with them for several months.

I had to learn something very important:

Don’t panic when you can’t breathe. Just wait. The air will come again.

I consciously said these words over and over in my mind when the attacks came.

“Don’t panic. Just wait. Just hang on until you can breathe again. It’s going to happen any second now. You will be able to breathe. You won’t always feel this way. It’s going to pass.”

I’m not sure if God allowed me to go through this illness in preparation for the great loss I would soon be facing, but I said nearly those exact words to myself, over and over, as I faced the betrayal that shattered my heart and tore my marriage apart.

I can remember collapsing on the floor by my bed, the weight of my grief washing over me. I would repeat these words silently.

“Kim, don’t panic. Just hang on for a little while longer. It’s going to get better. You’ll be able to breathe again. You won’t always feel this way. It’s going to pass.”

And it did.

Oh, it wasn’t overnight. It took a long, long time.

It took decisions on my part—conscious choices to let go of the past, to pour out my pain to Jesus, and to follow God’s new plan for my life.

At first, my journey of grief was like walking into a long, dark tunnel with not even a glimmer of light at the end.

It was like groping in darkness, feeling my way, just trusting that God would bring light and hope again.

But eventually, the light began to shine. Tiny pinpricks of light, beckoning me to take another step forward. Assuring me that there was indeed an end to this journey.

Then little by little, life began to get better.

The searing, cutting pain began to lessen.

The grief didn’t strike quite so deep.

The weight on my chest didn’t feel quite as suffocating.

And eventually God brought healing and joy to my heart.

It happened moment by moment, day after day, month after month, year after year, until I felt whole again.

My friend, no matter what kind of loss you’ve experienced—if there’s just one thing I could tell you as you face crippling grief, it is this:

You will not always feel this way. 

With God, there is always, always, always hope.

There is no grief too deep that He cannot heal.

There is no situation too far gone that He cannot redeem.

There is no heart so shattered that He cannot put back together.

I know. I’ve been there.

Though you may falter, begin today to take steps toward your healing. Dig into God’s Word and hang on to His promises with all your strength. Be fervent in prayer. Faithfully meet with God’s people. (You desperately need the support of a good church family, so if you don’t have one, seek one out.) Do everything you can do to surround yourself with people who love God and will help you on your journey.

And above all, have hope.

This is not the end of your journey.

With God, there is always hope. The storm will not last forever. The sun will shine again.

You will not always feel this way.

“O Lord my God, I cried unto thee, and thou has healed me.” (Psalm 30:2)

“Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing: thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness.” (Psalm 30:11)

(This concludes the four-part Silver Linings series. If you missed any of the previous articles, you can find the links below.)

To read Part One: It’s okay to protect your wounds so you can heal, click here.

To read Part Two: In order to heal, you must grieve, click here.

To read Part Three: Healing involves choices, click here. 

To find ordering information for my devotional book, Tales from Toddlers, click HERE.

To download the first chapter free of charge, click HERE.

Part Three: Healing involves choices

I fought it off for months, but it eventually got the best of me.

This past winter was terrible for viruses in our little Ozark town. Sickness invaded churches, schools, and businesses. There was no escape.

Child after child in my daycare went down with stomach bugs and respiratory illnesses. Just as everyone seemed to be getting well, another virus would hit. On and on the cycle continued.

I have a fairly strong immune system, but shortly after Christmas my body couldn’t fight off the constant exposure to the dreaded germs any longer. I was forced to close my daycare and spend a few days in bed.

After the virus had run its course, I felt better—except for one thing.

I struggled to eat. Nothing tasted good, and I just didn’t want to eat.

If I did what I felt like doing, I wouldn’t have eaten.

I had to make a choice—force myself to eat again so my body could fully heal and I could regain my strength.

The same thing is true for our healing after a great loss.

We must choose to take steps to be healed and whole.

Now, I’m not saying you wake up one morning, decide to be healed, and Bam! you’re healed.

Nor am I advocating the belief that those who are grieving should just stop mourning and “get over it.”

I’m not saying that at all.

What I am saying is this:

Healing comes from a series of choices, made day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year. 

It’s taking one small step forward at a time.

When I lost my marriage, I didn’t always feel like taking steps toward my healing.

I knew what I needed to do to heal— faithfully attend church with my children, stay in the Word of God, keep close to God in prayer, and stay connected to supportive family and friends.

Some days these choices came easily.

And other days, it was a monumental effort to get out of bed.

I felt like hiding under the covers and never coming out again.

I wanted to shroud myself in the blankets of my grief and give up.

But I didn’t. I knew if I gave up, my life would never be any better. My children needed me to be strong physically, spiritually, and emotionally. If I didn’t heal, how could I help them heal from the trauma of what they had been through?

And so I took those steps forward. Sometimes they were baby steps, like reaching out to a friend when I needed help. Sometimes they were huge leaps of faith, like when I followed God’s leading to move internationally, find a job, and get my children into a new school.

But no matter how big or small, they were choices I had to make to move forward.

If you are wrapped in your grief today, feeling like you’re stuck, I have a suggestion for you.

I encourage you to make a list. Jot down a few things you could do today, tomorrow, and this week to help you move forward in your healing.

It might be as simple as writing an encouraging verse of Scripture on a notecard to carry with you throughout your day. It may be saying “yes” to a friend’s offer of going out for coffee when you’d rather stay home. It might be choosing to dry your own tears and reach out to someone else who is going through a hard time.

Last week I wrote about the importance of grieving and how if we don’t grieve, we can’t heal. But as important as it is to grieve, it’s also important to make good, healthy choices in the midst of that grief.

Because here’s the thing about grief:

As important as it is, you were never meant to stay there. You feel the pain, cry the tears, and pour out your sorrow to God.

Then you look up. You see that He has still given you life, love, and purpose. And even though it’s hard, you take those steps, make those choices—to get through your grief.

I know it’s hard—oh, how I know. I know how the pain cuts and the heart sinks in despair. I know how it feels to have no hope.

But there is hope, my friend. God will get you through this time of grief and despair. Keep trusting Him.

Take a step, even if it’s just a small one. Small steps, taken one at a time, eventually melt into miles.

They say the journey of a thousand miles begins with just one step. And so it is with the journey of healing.

A journey you do not take on your own, but with your Heavenly Father at your side.

“O Lord my God, I cried unto thee, and thou has healed me.” (Psalm 30:2)

“My tears have been my meat day and night, while they continually say unto me, Where is thy God?

Why art thou cast down, O my soul? And why art thou disquieted in me? Hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance.

Yet the Lord will command his loving-kindness in the daytime, and in the night his song shall be with me, and my prayer unto the God of my life.” (Psalm 42: 3,5,8)

For ordering information on my devotional book, Tales from Toddlers, click HERE.

To download the first chapter free of charge, click HERE.

“God, I can’t take this pain anymore. It cuts too deep, and it hurts too much. I need to cry. I need to grieve. I feel as if I’m going to explode. I can’t do this any longer. I just can’t.”

I know I’m not alone in having these thoughts. If you’ve faced a deep loss, you too know the sound of desperate, shattered heart-cries. You know the suffocating grief that presses down upon your chest, making every breath an effort. You know the sharp pain that grips your heart. You know. 

Last week we talked about how it’s okay to protect your wounds so you can heal—how it’s unwise to “keep ripping the bandage off” our wounds until we are healed. (If you missed Part One, you can read it here.)

This week, I’d like to share another truth I learned in my time of healing from my broken marriage. I pray that God will use this truth to comfort you, no matter what kind of pain you are facing today.

Part Two: In order to heal, you must grieve. 

I thought I was tough enough to handle it, but I wasn’t.

Far, far from it.

The truth had come out. Everything I had believed to be true was a lie. The very foundations of my world were ripped out from under me.

I was shattered, and just barely holding it together.

I was betrayed. I wasn’t good enough. I had never been good enough. Was I even loved? Had I ever been loved?

“God, how am I supposed to live like this? How am I supposed to go on?”

But I did. Every morning, I got up. My sons and I prepared for school.

I drove my school bus. I went through the motions of teaching my kindergarten class.

I went home again. Did laundry. Cooked dinner. Packed lunches.

And all the while, turmoil raged within. Sometimes, I felt deep despair. What was the point of even trying anymore?

Sometimes, I felt raging anger. How could this happen to me?

Other times, I felt confusion. What went wrong? I tried so hard—so hard—to do everything right.

And all the time—all the time—I felt deep, deep grief.

But I had a problem: I couldn’t grieve openly. Every single moment of every day I was surrounded by people. Students at school, students on my bus, family at home.

I was never alone.

And so I stuffed all that grief inside.

I never cried. Tried to hide the sadness.

Tried to smile. One foot in front of the other. Just keep going. Just keep hiding the pain. 

This, my friend, is a very dangerous way to live, for God created us with emotions. Emotions are not meant to control our lives, but they are meant to be felt.

If you don’t allow yourself to feel them, eventually it will catch up with you.

When I began to have chest pain, I realized my mistake. If I continued to hold my grief inside, the result would be disastrous—physically, emotionally, spiritually.

But I still didn’t know what to do about it.

“Okay, Lord. I know I need to grieve. You’ve shown me that. But how in the world am I supposed to do this? You’re going to have to give me a place to cry.”

And He did.

I realized there was a time when I was all alone. It was only a 20-minute window of time, but it was enough.

This may sound strange to some, but my bathroom became a place of refuge—the place where I poured out my grief to God.

With the door locked and the shower running, no one could hear my sobs. No one could see my tears.

No one but Jesus.

As the warm water poured down, washing away the cares of the day, hot tears flowed down my face, washing the wounds of my soul.

Every night for months, I met Jesus there. He held me as I cried, and comforted me as only One Who knew the depths of my anguish could comfort.

As I allowed myself to grieve, I began the slow process of healing. I also gained strength, which I would need for the upcoming years. Although I didn’t know it at the time, my battle was not nearing an end. In fact, it was just beginning.

I believe if I hadn’t grieved during this time, I wouldn’t have gained the strength and healing I desperately needed for the years to follow.

My friend, please hear this:

If you have faced a great loss, you must take  time to grieve that loss.

It doesn’t matter what kind of loss it is. You may have lost your marriage as I did, or lost your spouse in death. You may have lost a child, whether they departed from this earth in death or from your presence in rebellion. Perhaps you’ve lost a relationship, your home, your health, or a life-long dream.

It really doesn’t matter what the loss is—you must grieve.

Even Jesus grieved deeply. We see Him weeping over the lost, weeping over Jerusalem, weeping in the Garden before facing the cross.

My friend, it’s okay to cry.

It’s okay to pour out your heart to God.

As you grieve, know that God is with you. Know that He holds you close and keeps every tear.

Know that His Word is full of promises to help you in your time of sorrow. Find these promises, write them down, carry them with you. Don’t let them go—they are your lifeline.

Most of all, know this:

You won’t always feel as you do today. One day, the tears will stop falling. Your heart will stop breaking.

The sun will shine again.

Until then, take all the time you need to grieve. Everything will be okay, because you are held safe in the arms of Jesus.

“Hear my cry, O God; attend unto my prayer.

From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed. Lead me to the rock that is higher than I;

For thou hast been a shelter for me, and a strong tower from the enemy.

I will abide in thy tabernacle for ever: I will trust in the covert of thy wings.”

(Psalm 61:1-4)

For ordering information on my devotional book, Tales from Toddlers, click HERE.

To download the first chapter free of charge, click HERE.

For the next few weeks, I will give you a glimpse into my life in the aftermath of losing my 16-year marriage. In this series, I will be sharing some things that I’ve learned in this heartbreaking, yet beautiful journey. God never wastes pain, and I pray if you are facing heartache of any kind today, you will be encouraged by these words.

Part One: It’s okay to protect your wounds so you can heal.

Sometimes I think we as Christians believe we have to be tough.

Even if our hearts are breaking, we must hide the tears, square our shoulders, and keep marching.

No matter how badly it hurts, just keep going. Don’t stop, don’t cry, don’t ever show weakness.

And don’t shy away from what’s hurting you.

In my journey of healing, I learned an important lesson:

It’s very unwise to keep causing yourself pain when you are in a place of vulnerability.

There are some things that are just too painful to handle while you are healing, and that’s okay.

This makes sense to us when we think about it in reference to physical healing.

Let’s say you tripped on the front steps to your house, arms loaded with groceries. You fell, scraping your arm badly on the cement stairs. You carefully bandaged the long, red wound on your arm.

But then a few hours later, you ripped the bandage off. Scabs were just starting to form, but of course they came off with the bandage and the bleeding resumed.

So you wrapped it up again. A little while later, the pain was lessening, so once more you tore off the bandage. But again, the bleeding started. Now the searing pain was worse than when you first fell.

I know it’s a crazy story, but it makes a good point. We understand that to heal physically, we must protect the wound. To heal emotionally, the same is true.

Now, I’m not suggesting you hide from your pain and pretend it doesn’t exist. What I am saying is to make wise choices in what you will allow into your life during your time of healing.

After I lost my marriage, my heart was extremely fragile. My journey of healing was long—much longer than I desired. And along that journey, I had to make choices to protect my heart.

For a few years, I changed my listening, reading, and viewing habits. I enjoy a good Hallmark movie, Christian romantic suspense books, and love songs. But during this time, my heart couldn’t handle any of these things. It was like jarring a broken bone or ripping off a bandage.

So I put them away for quite some time. I focused on things that would help, not hurt me—time with my boys, my family, my church. I immersed myself in the Word of God, learning anew of His eternal, unconditional love for me. I sought comfort in knowing that Jesus would never leave me or forsake me.

A couple years passed, and I was again able to enjoy the books, movies, and music that I had enjoyed previously.

But it took time.

My friend, if you are in a journey of grief right now, give yourself permission to protect your heart. There is nothing wrong with that. If someone has told you differently, I would encourage you to read the Psalms.

Over and over, David pours out his grief to God. Over and over, he asks God to protect him, shelter him, and be his refuge.

You are allowed to do the same thing. You can run to your Heavenly Father and find refuge from what is hurting you.

You don’t have to keep ripping the bandage off.

“Be merciful unto me, O God, be merciful unto me: for my soul trusteth in thee: yea, in the shadow of thy wings will I make my refuge, until these calamities be overpast.” (Psalm 57:1) 

For ordering information on my devotional book, Tales from Toddlers, click HERE. 

To download the first chapter free of charge, click HERE. 

It was just a small bag of cashews, but it helped me get through a very difficult time in my life.

Four and a half years ago, the foundations of the life I knew were shattered.

In one weekend, my entire world shifted. Through heartbreaking circumstances, I became a single mom and faced a very uncertain future. I was grief-stricken and overwhelmed. I had a few short months to finish up my job as a kindergarten teacher, sort through the contents of our entire house, pack a shipping container, and move myself and my three boys from Australia to America.

On the outside I was calm, but inwardly I was in constant distress. I found it very difficult to eat, and my weight dropped rapidly. One of my very dear friends noticed and took action.

She brought me a small bag of salted cashews—one of my favorite foods. She hoped it would coax me back into eating.

The next few days, I carried that little bag to school with me, grabbing a few cashews every once in awhile as I worked. Slowly my appetite returned, and I again had the physical strength I needed to face the strenuous months ahead of me.

Her plan worked: take little steps toward wholeness until you are strong again. 

My friend, have you been devastated by grief in your life?

Are you wondering how you will ever be whole again?

Are you too scared, too exhausted, too overwhelmed to pursue healing in your heart?

If any of these describe you, I want to encourage you to take one small step today. Just one. 

Chances are, you already know what you need to do.

You know comfort awaits you in God’s Word. You know you need to reach out for help and talk to someone. You know you need to put the past behind you.

Just take a small step forward. 

Pick up your Bible and find a verse of comfort. Write it down and carry it with you today.

Invite your friend to coffee and tell her you need to talk. Reach out.

Start cleaning out the closet of your past (literally or figuratively) and throw away one item that is hindering your healing.

Here’s the thing about healing:

It can be overwhelming to look at the whole road ahead of you. 

So just take a small step forward.  

Eventually those small steps will melt into miles, and you will surprised at how far you have journeyed on the road to healing.

“The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord: and he delighteth in his way. Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down: for the Lord upholdeth him with his hand.” (Psalm 37:23-24)

“Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed: save me, and I shall be saved: for thou art my praise.” (Jeremiah 17:14)

For ordering information on my devotional book, Tales from Toddlers, click HERE. 

To grab a free download of the first chapter, click HERE.

Most of us would agree that God is able to put the broken pieces of our lives back together.

But what if there are no pieces left?

What if you’re left with shards too small to ever, ever piece back together?

What if your life has been devastated by fires of affliction so hot there is nothing left but ashes?

What then?

These are the thoughts that weighed heavy on my heart as I faced the 2015 New Year.

2014 was the hardest year of my life. Through devastating circumstances, I became a single mum to my three sons. I lost both my ministry of teaching in a Christian school in Australia and ministering in our local church. We left our home, church, school, friends, and the only country my boys had lived in up to that point.

During the flight back to the States, waves of doubt washed over me. What would happen to us? How could God make everything okay? I had no idea how I could stay strong for my boys. I literally survived moment by moment, only concentrating on the very next step I had to take.

I remember how my parents welcomed us with open arms and broken hearts that night our flight landed. I remember climbing the stairs to their guest bedroom with a weariness that reached down to the depths of my soul. I remember collapsing on the bed, the weight of my broken heart a physical force upon my chest in the darkness.

I felt like there was nothing left.

No pieces left for God to mend.

Just dust and ashes.

I didn’t know how I was going to make a living. I didn’t know how I could afford a house, a car, or school tuition. I knew my family would welcome us for as long as we needed to stay, but I didn’t want to burden them.

But aside from the physical needs and financial worries, I didn’t know how God could heal my heart.

Especially since there just seemed to be a gaping hole where once beat a heart full of joy.

Are you in this place too, my friend? Feeling that not even God can mend the shards of your heart, your life, your soul?

If so, I’m here to give you hope. There’s nothing too broken for God to fix. Nothing too far gone for Him to mend. No hurt too deep He cannot heal.

I stand as a living testament to the fact that God can bring beauty from ashes.

In the past four years, God has done miracle after miracle in my life. At just the right time, the operation of a small daycare opened up. This job enables me make a living, minister to the children in my community, and be at home evenings and weekends with my sons.

God also provided a loving church family and an amazing Christian school for my boys to attend. I went from praying desperate prayers that my sons would survive a broken home, to praising God for the way He is drawing them to Himself.

Time after time, need after need was met. We were given a car. The perfect house (at an incredible price!) became available at just the right time. My boys’ school bill was paid anonymously for a whole year, until I was able to get on my feet financially.

But the biggest miracle of all was the one no one could see.

It was the healing of my heart.

Slowly, over the past four years, God has healed my heart. He has taken the pain and replaced it with pure joy. He used many things in this process—the love of my family, the support of my church, the kindness of my friends.

But most of all, it was the balm of His presence. Time spent soaking in the comfort of His Word. Time spent in prayer, with tears of sorrow, tears of healing, and then tears of joy spilling over.

For He truly is the Great Physician, the Healer of all hurting hearts. 

Your healing may not come in the way you think it will, or in the time frame you wish.

It will most likely be a process—and probably take much too long to your way of thinking.

But it will come. It will.

God is the God of the impossible. He is the God Who opens a way through the sea when the army is bearing down, the God Who calms storms for His children, the God Who can put lives back together when there is nothing left.

Keep trusting Him. He will bring beauty from the ashes.

“Remember ye not the former things, neither consider the things of old. Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert.” (Isaiah 43:18-19)

“To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified.” (Isaiah 61:3) 

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For ordering information on Gems of Joy, Volume 2, click HERE.