October 16, 2026
Waiting has a way of revealing what we really believe.
When a dream takes longer than expected, a prayer seems unanswered, or life simply is not unfolding the way we hoped, it becomes very easy to let disappointment start speaking for us.
“I guess it’s just not going to happen.”
“Maybe I missed my chance.”
“Nothing ever works out for me.”
“I’m probably too old now.”
“This is just how my life is going to be.”
I know because I’ve had to catch myself doing this too.
There are dreams I have carried for years that I have not seen come to pass yet. And when you have been waiting for a long time, discouragement can begin to sound reasonable. You can start calling hopelessness “being realistic.”
But at some point, I realized I had to watch my mouth.
Not because I believe our words are some kind of magic formula that guarantees we will get everything we say. Life does not work that way. But I do believe the words we continually speak reveal—and reinforce—what is happening in our hearts.
If I spend every day rehearsing everything that has gone wrong, everything I am afraid will never happen, and every reason my future cannot be good, eventually those thoughts begin shaping the way I see my life.
And that is not how I choose to live.
Choosing our words carefully does not mean pretending everything is wonderful.
There is nothing wrong with saying, “This is hard.”
There is nothing wrong with admitting, “I’m disappointed.”
There is nothing wrong with grieving, asking questions, or acknowledging that something has not happened yet.
Faith does not require us to deny reality.
But there is a difference between saying:
“This season is really hard.”
and:
“My life is never going to get better.”
There is a difference between:
“I haven’t seen this dream come to pass yet.”
and:
“It’s never going to happen for me.”
One acknowledges where you are.
The other makes a declaration about where you are going.
And I have learned that I need to be careful not to let a difficult chapter start writing the ending of my story.
One little word I have learned to appreciate is yet.
I have not seen the answer yet.
I have not reached the dream yet.
I do not understand how everything is going to come together yet.
That small word leaves room for hope.
My circumstances may tell me what is true today, but they cannot tell me everything God can do tomorrow.
That is one of the reasons renewing our minds is so important. Romans 12:2 tells us to be transformed by the renewing of our minds. Sometimes that renewal involves recognizing the negative story we have been repeating and replacing it with truth.
Instead of, “I’m running out of time,” perhaps it becomes, “God is not limited by my timeline and redeems time.”
Instead of, “Nothing is changing,” perhaps it becomes, “I may not see everything God is doing behind the scenes.”
Instead of, “I missed my opportunity,” perhaps it becomes, “I am going to stay open to what God still has ahead for me.”
Those words do not deny disappointment. They simply refuse to give disappointment authority over the future.
We are often very aware of what other people say to us, but sometimes we pay much less attention to what we say to ourselves.
What have you been repeatedly saying about your future?
About your age?
About your health?
About your relationships?
About the dream that has taken much longer than you ever expected?
You may discover that you have been speaking from disappointment without even realizing it.
If so, you do not need to condemn yourself for it. Just begin noticing it.
Catch the sentence.
Challenge it.
Then replace it with something that is rooted in God's promises.
I have had to do this in my own life. There are still things I am believing for. I do not have a beautiful story tied up with a bow where I can tell you that every dream has come true.
I am still waiting too!
But I have decided that while I wait, I do not want my words to constantly predict disappointment.
I want to speak like someone who has bulldog faith and expectant hope.
I want to remind myself of God's faithfulness.
I want to talk about my future as though there are still good things ahead—because I know there are.
You may not be able to control how quickly your circumstances change.
You may not know when the answer will come.
You may not understand why the waiting has lasted as long as it has.
But you can decide what you will allow to take root in your heart while you wait.
Be honest about where you are.
Grieve when you need to grieve.
Ask God the hard questions.
But do not let disappointment convince you to start speaking death over dreams that may simply be taking longer than you expected.
Your story is not finished.
So while you wait, guard your heart, renew your mind, and watch your words.
Speak hope before you see the outcome.
This reflection is inspired by my upcoming book, Reclaim Your Dreams, which is currently being edited and finalized. The book explores healing from disappointment, renewing hope, trusting God in the waiting, and continuing to pursue the dreams He has placed in your heart.
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September 11, 2026
Three weeks ago, I unexpectedly lost my precious kitty, Theo.
I was not prepared for it. There was no long goodbye or time to slowly adjust to the idea of losing him. One day he was part of my everyday life, and then suddenly, he wasn’t.
I was devastated.
Grief has a strange way of changing the atmosphere of ordinary life. The places where Theo used to sleep feel different. The little routines I hardly thought about before suddenly matter. Sometimes it is the smallest things that remind me he is gone.
And losing him has made me think differently about something I write about often: hope.
When we talk about disappointment, we often think about the things we wanted that haven’t happened yet—the dream that has been delayed, the prayer that still seems unanswered, or the future that hasn’t unfolded the way we imagined.
But sometimes disappointment looks different.
Sometimes it is losing something—or someone—you never expected to lose.
Theo’s death was not part of the story I wanted. I wanted more years with him. More mornings with him nearby. More ordinary days when I could simply take his presence for granted.
There is no positive thought that makes that loss okay.
And I don’t believe hope requires me to pretend otherwise.
I am learning that grief and hope can exist in the same heart.
I can deeply miss Theo and still believe there is goodness ahead.
I can wish the story had gone differently and still trust God with the parts of my life I cannot understand.
I can cry over what I have lost while continuing to believe for the dreams I am still carrying.
But I also know I do not want grief to become the place where I permanently live.
Grief deserves to be acknowledged, but so does healing. I believe there will come a time when the ache is not quite so sharp, when memories bring more smiles than tears, and when joy begins to take up more space again. Moving forward will not mean that Theo mattered any less. It will simply mean that love has made room for healing too.
That matters to me because I am still waiting on some very personal dreams of my own. There are things I have hoped for and prayed for that have not yet come to pass. Losing Theo could easily become another reason to guard my heart—to expect less so that maybe life will hurt less.
But that is not how I want to live.
Hope is not a guarantee that we will never experience heartbreak. It is the decision that heartbreak will not convince us that goodness is gone.
Romans 15:13 calls God the “God of hope.” I love that description because lately I have needed the reminder that hope does not depend on everything around me going according to plan.
God is still good when my heart hurts.
There is still love in my life worth receiving.
There are still dreams worth believing for.
And there will still be beautiful things ahead, even while I miss something beautiful that was part of my life.
I will always wish I had more time with Theo. I will always be grateful that I got to love him.
Right now, being stubborn in hope means giving myself permission to grieve while also believing that grief will not always feel the way it does today. Healing will come. Joy will return. And when it does, I do not have to feel guilty for embracing it.
Some seasons ask us to hold sorrow in one hand and hope in the other. But hope reminds us that sorrow does not get the final word.
For now, I am learning how to honor what I have lost while still keeping my heart open to what is ahead.
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August 6, 2026
When we think about pursuing a dream, it's easy to focus on what the dream will mean for us.
We imagine the sense of accomplishment, the new opportunities, or the joy of finally seeing something we have been waiting on for years to finally come to life. Those desires are not necessarily wrong. But sometimes we become so focused on reaching the destination that we overlook this truth:
The dream God placed in your heart may not be only for you.
For me, one of the dreams I still have for my life is to become a mother. Lately, I have begun thinking not only about having a child—or children—but also about how I would raise them to love God and love people well. I want to teach them to reflect God’s goodness through compassion, generosity, and service to others.
That dream is still on its way, but I can already see how it could reach far beyond my own life. The way I raise my children could influence others for generations, and my journey will give me opportunities to encourage other women, especially those who become mothers later in life.
Likewise, your dream may carry encouragement that someone else desperately needs. Your story may help another person feel less alone. Your idea may solve a problem, meet a need, open a door, or create an opportunity for someone you have never met.
What feels personal may also be an assignment.
Ephesians 2:10 reminds us that we were created for good works that God prepared for us. This means our gifts, experiences, passions, and even the difficult parts of our stories can become part of how we serve others.
You may feel drawn to write a book, start a business, create a ministry, volunteer in your community, launch a podcast, mentor someone, or share what you have learned. The form of the dream will be different for each person, but the question is the same:
Who might be helped when you begin using what God has given you?
We often delay because we do not feel ready. We tell ourselves we need more experience, more confidence, more money, more connections, or a clearer plan. Preparation matters, but there comes a time when preparation must become participation.
You do not have to accomplish the entire dream today. You only need to take the next meaningful step.
Write the first page. Make the phone call. Research the opportunity. Attend the meeting. Record the first episode. Offer to help. Begin learning the skill you will need later.
Small acts of obedience can become the foundation of something much larger than you can see at this moment.
There may be people waiting for the encouragement, wisdom, creativity, or service that will come through your willingness to begin. They may never know how long you wrestled with fear or self-doubt. They will simply be grateful that you decided not to bury what you have to share.
Your dream does not have to make you famous to make a difference. It does not have to reach thousands of people to be meaningful. Sometimes changing one life is enough to confirm that your obedience had a purpose.
So, as you think about the dreams you have for your life, consider looking beyond what they could produce in your own life.
Ask yourself:
Who could this dream serve?
What need could it meet?
What hope could it give?
What small assignment can I begin today?
Your dream may be part of the answer to a prayer someone else has been praying.
Do not underestimate what God can do through one person who is willing to simply begin.
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July 22, 2026
There are seasons when dreaming feels natural. We can clearly picture the future we want, and we are excited to move toward it.
Then life happens.
Plans change. Prayers appear to go unanswered. Doors close, relationships end, and years pass more quickly than we expected. After enough disappointment, we may begin protecting ourselves by expecting less. We tell ourselves that we are being realistic, but somewhere along the way, we stop giving ourselves permission to hope.
Disappointment can make hope feel risky. When you have been hurt before, dreaming again requires courage.
I know this not only because I believe it, but because I have lived it. There are dreams I have carried for years that have not yet come to pass, and there have been many times when it would have been easier to let them go. But even in the waiting, I have chosen not to give up. I am still believing, still moving forward, and still trusting that the dreams God placed in my heart were not placed there in vain.
The passage of time does not mean God has forgotten you. A delay does not necessarily mean your dreams can never happen, and a difficult chapter does not determine how your story will end. God is still able to restore your hope, redeem the years that were lost, and awaken dreams you thought were gone forever.
Romans 15:13 says God is the God of hope. Hope is not something you have to manufacture through positive thinking. It grows as you place your trust in the One who sees the entire story—not merely the chapter you are living through today.
Perhaps your life looks different from what you once imagined. Maybe you feel behind, or you wonder whether you missed your opportunity. You may even believe you should have accomplished more by now.
But your age, your history, and your past disappointments do not disqualify you from beginning again.
It is not too late to write the book, start the business, pursue the calling, rebuild your life, or take the first small step toward something that matters to you. Your next step does not have to be dramatic. Sometimes reclaiming a dream begins with simply allowing yourself to believe that another future is still possible.
Hope again—not because every circumstance has changed, but because God has not.
Hold tightly to what He has placed in your heart. Be patient with the process, courageous in the waiting, and stubborn in hope. Your story is still being written.
Your best days are not behind you. They are ahead of you.
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