Flawed & Faithful

I wanted my first post to be encouraging. I wanted it to come from a good place, and I thought I had to be in a good place for that to happen. I wanted it to reflect hope, God, honesty, and authenticity.

But every time I sit down to write, I feel this weight. I dread reading my own words… not to be too dramatic. Will I post what comes from my mind and heart tonight? That’s a good question—and one I honestly don’t know the answer to. Because if I’m being real, I’m afraid. Afraid of being judged. Afraid my words have no value. Afraid people will know that and maybe even say it out loud.

I’ve never read Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway. The title alone is powerful because we all have fears. But I never felt pulled to read it. Instead, I turn to the Bible, which is filled with the phrase “Do not fear”—366 times, in fact. And yet, I’ve always been a little hard-headed. My dad used to say I had “selective hearing and listening,” which meant I learned most lessons the hard way. But as I grow older, take on more responsibilities, and stumble through adulthood, I try harder to hear once and obey quicker.

Lately, God has put it on my heart to write more. At first, I wondered how: Should I journal? Scribble on Post-its? Write a book? (That one always sounded cool.) Or should I blog? Sometimes God only gives us the first instruction, and the rest remains a mystery. That’s where faith in His plan has to take up space in our hearts.

If you can’t tell yet, faith in God plays a huge role in my life. I love Jesus. But that love doesn’t mean I’m immune to challenges. Every season comes with its struggles. And while I’ve leaned on God and His Word to get me through the past six years, I’ve also stumbled plenty along the way.

My obedience to Him? Let’s just say it’s selective. When He asks me to do something that feels good or works in my favor—I’m all in. If it feels good but doesn’t really favor me, I’m still in. But if it doesn’t feel good and doesn’t favor me and makes my life harder—even for a moment—I disappear. He calls, and I send Him to voicemail. He sends a message, and I leave Him on read.

I know I’m not alone in this. So many of us are waiting for the “perfect conditions” to move forward—the perfect weather to run in, the perfect economy to buy a house, the perfect body to wear that outfit we bought years ago. But sometimes God says move anyway. Move when the storm is raging. Move when the economy is shaky and eggs are $11 a dozen. Move when your body isn’t what you want it to be. He often tells us to move when it’s both scary and uncomfortable.

Three years ago, He told me to write. So I journaled. Then He told me to be more honest in my writing. So I prayed, read my Bible, and asked Him to search my heart before I put pen to paper. Then He told me to share my words with others. I nervously showed my husband a few entries. And then He nudged me to share more widely. That’s where I stalled.

I told myself I’d start a blog if my sisters in Christ supported the idea. (Spoiler: they did.) That was a month ago. They’ve been patiently waiting, but I’ve been dragging my feet, full of excuses. Until one sister reminded me that when I stand before the Lord, there will never be a good excuse for not answering His call.

So here I am. Writing scared. Because my situation isn’t pretty or tied up with a bow. But God didn’t ask me for pretty. He asked me for obedience.

And the truth is—life is a lot right now. I’m a new mom to a 4-month-old baby girl. A wife of three years. The youngest of three siblings. My dad passed away in 2023, and I help care for my mom. I work a full-time job in healthcare, plus two side jobs as a pet sitter and personal trainer. My husband and I co-own a business. I also serve in youth ministry at church. It might sound like a little, or it might sound like a lot. But for me? Most days, it feels like a lot.

Motherhood has been one of the greatest blessings of my life—and also one of the hardest. My daughter’s smiles, cuddles, and milestones are priceless. But the sleepless nights, hormone shifts, body changes, marriage growing pains, and the feeling of losing my identity… those are heavy. Some days, it feels like a gift wrapped in sandpaper.

I know I’m not alone. Countless mothers have walked this road. But knowing I’m not the only one doesn’t always bring comfort. Some days I feel inadequate, unsure I’ll ever see the “other side” of this season. My hormones are still out of balance. My body is far from where I want it to be. Postpartum hair loss arrived a month ago, and I dread brushing my own hair. My self-confidence? It’s not just in the back seat—it didn’t even make it into the car.

Even with friends and family checking in, I feel lonely. Mom guilt hits daily. I struggle to connect with my spouse, and sometimes I wonder if he even wants me anymore. I feel like I don’t recognize myself. It’s a paralyzing feeling.

This is why I’ve been scared to write and post. It feels messy, maybe even pathetic. But if another woman came to me in this same season, I’d never call her pathetic. I’d love her, listen to her, pray for her, check in on her, serve her, and remind her of her worth. Why is it so hard to extend that same grace to myself?

Some days I fear being misunderstood. I fear not being enough for my daughter. I fear failing in a way that can’t be fixed. I don’t always understand what I feel, what I need, or what I want.

And yet, here I am. Writing scared. Because obedience matters more than perfection.

I wanted this post to end encouraging, and maybe it hasn’t. But here’s what I do know: God has a plan. He turns what was meant to destroy us into something that prospers us and others. My faith may feel shaky, but I’m choosing to place it in Him. He sees my heart, even when it’s unsettled. He sees my tears, even when I hide them behind a smile. He hears my prayers, even when they feel robotic. And He loves me anyway.

So maybe this post isn’t polished or tied neatly together. Maybe it won’t encourage everyone who reads it. But if it encourages even one person—or if it’s just my act of obedience to God—then it’s worth it.

Am I doing it scared? Absolutely. But I’m doing it.