Here’s what I’m slowly learning. Letting go doesn’t mean I don’t care. Resting doesn’t mean I’m lazy. Being still doesn’t mean I’m failing. It means I trust that God loves my family even more than I do. It means I believe he’s working behind the scenes, even when I can’t see it. It means I choose to believe I don’t have to fight every battle on my own. That kind of stillness takes courage, especially when you’re used to doing it all.

When I look back at the seasons of my life marked by pain and struggle, I can see God’s hand gently at work, making me new. I may not have experienced instant healing, but I’ve experienced transformation.

For me, depression often feels like being trapped in a dark tunnel, with no clear way out. I’ve struggled with the idea that this dark season will never end, that it will always be a part of who I am. But this verse speaks to the hope that God is working during the struggle, even when it feels impossible to see. He’s making a way where there seems to be no way. He’s doing a new thing, whether I see it or not.