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A Kayaking Accident, Two Hour Phone Call, Rejection Through Email: September-ish.

“Grace, they found his boat at the bottom of a waterfall, and they haven’t found his body.”

“I’m so sorry that I didn’t treat you the way you deserved, I didn’t treat you the way God tells us to treat women.”

'I'll talk to you when God wills it."

“We cannot accept your project at this time.”

"Grace, I'm having surgery on Wednesday."

“It’s just hard that it’s been 26 years.”

“You have to quarantine for 10 days.”

September hasn’t been the easiest month—to say least. The phrases above are some of the things that have been said to me this September of 2020. It’s been one full of heartache, rejection, courage, concern, grief, anxiety, healing, and miracles.

From having to get a total of six covid tests since being at school, to having to support my mom from afar as she grieved my older sister’s death anniversary… I have felt a wide array of emotions. In the realness of blogging nature: I have struggled, a lot. I’ve felt the stress of taking 19 hours and being in a sorority. I‘ve felt the weight of having to pick up the phone—even when it breaks your heart.

I’ve cried out and begged for God to just


Ha. Little did I know—or see, he was, he is, and still will. I spoke in the last blog about how I wasn’t in the most exciting season of my life and how things felt dry and lonely. Don’t get me wrong or confuse what I’m saying here: I am still having to be patient and trust God in the silence of it all. He’s told me to be patient and to just learn the joy of walking with him, alone. However—my God, my Rock, and my Hope have been at work this month when I have felt like everything in my life has been at a standstill.

I had to wrestle through blogging again. I finally just decided to push on and forward even with the doubts and fears that raced through my mind. The lies of the enemy tried to do a number on me with this one. I got over my pride and realized that by reflecting and sharing testimonies of what Jesus was doing in my life was more important than any comparison that tried to hold me back.

I laid awake in my bed a good majority of the nights. Tossing and turning have become my new hobby this September. I stare out of my bedroom window in the teeny tiny room of my cozy apartment—with my mind clouded of memories, replaying conversations, and questioning the why… of everything and everyone in my life. Some nights resulted in self-realization and sleep being found in the wee hours of the morning; others, were filled and flooded with quiet tears and prayers. Things felt… hopeless and hope-filled all rolled into one.

I had to face the reality of rejection and the ways it has affected me thus far in my life. Whether it was the kid in the third grade who told me I could pass as a boy or the boy who told me that he didn’t understand why he didn’t feel the same, anymore. I have begun to dig in and wrestle with the realities of the toxic kiss that rejection brings to our minds and hearts.

I received emails with rejections this month—YET… these emails were an answered prayer for something that I needed to do. Now, the phone call I had to make has been one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do. I, really, REALLY had to put my pride away on this one. I had to have the courage to stand up for myself and my heart—even if that meant being uncomfortable. The phone call itself was also filled with rejection and old wounds, BUT it also brought healing.

Through the pain of that phone call, I got to prove that I learned my identity in Christ. I got to know the beauty of my worth—not because of how I’ve grown or what my body can do; I know the beauty of my worth of being a daughter and a child. Who knew that having to face that rejection of that person once more would continue to serve as a reminder for me? It taught me through the staggering burning pain of hearing that person's voice that I am worth so much more than what I have been settling for and selling myself as.

My brother and I have a complicated history and relationship. We don’t have the same views, opinions, or likes. There’s a painful past with trauma and healing that still needs to happen. Yet, when I got the call on a Sunday night that a search team had found my brother’s boat at the bottom of a waterfall and that they had called off the search, well, it didn’t feel real.

How could it? We had just made plans to get dinner the next night—something we don’t do. I begged and prayed to God that my brother would be alive.

I have forgiven my brother, and I love my brother. However, when the reality that he might be gone sunk into my chest—I wasn’t pleased. I didn’t want things between us to be over. I didn’t want our relationship to be at its end. God’s mercy, grace, and love were watching over my brother that night.

Sam is alive. He’s still Sam and I’m still Grace. He’s working through his experience. I praise God for bringing him through that experience. My biggest prayer is that he sees how truly loved, purposed, and needed he is in God’s kingdom.

Here's the link to the New York Post article about it--

Since the theme of this entire blog is supposed to be all about authenticity and not hiding the “mess.”

Here I am... admitting that I have struggled this past month or so.

I’ve had to walk through closing doors all over again, facing the rejections of my past (don’t worry that’s another blog,) forgiveness, grief, doubt, and loneliness— and that was just September!

The lesson or the grand picture?


God is good. God is good. God is good.

In the hard moments where I’ve wondered where he was or why I still had this unbearable ache in my chest from certain words that were said to me— God was kind and working. He’s in the details and the quiet. I feel in this season of being taught patience HAHAHAHAH (it sucks) (but also is rad) something is happening in this quiet. In the moments with doubt and when the tears seem to be the only thing consistent—

I still can’t shake the overwhelming love that God has for me.

My brother almost died.

It was the anniversary of my sister's birth and death date.

My mom had surgery.

I had to talk to have a conversation that brought closure but a lot of pain and some confusion.

I’ve felt worthless and like a joke to everyone.

Oh, and on Wednesday someone hit my car without even leaving a note.

Life hits us sometimes. HARD.

Yet, there’s this distinct beauty in the middle of the sorrowful moments and still having hope in the promise and hope that Jesus has me and my story in the palm of his hands.

I get the privilege of being refined and molded-in this time of my life. Sure—I’ve been through a lot and there’s plenty more I’ll have to walk through. Yet, I choose to run back into the Father’s arms even when I’m bruised and scared.

I run and choose this love, even when it hurts.

So………………. It’s only October 12th,

I’ll keep ya, updated.

Picking up Sam from the Hospital in West Virginia.

Here's my car. God's hand in my life? The guys at Bumpus Body Shop were able to get it out and free of charge!! PRAISE.

Time with Pops this month in Lexington-- counting all blessings.

Despite all the stress and chaos-- I'm grateful for the mundane moments of having to be home because of all of the chaos this month..

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