Dear Little Girl…Rest in Hope
What if peace isn't found in finally getting the answer, but in learning to trust God before it comes? A reflection on uncertainty, hope, and the quiet presence of God in the waiting.
Dear Little Girl,
You like answers.
You like to know what is going to happen next.
You like plans and timelines and reassurance that everything will be okay.
You want to know the test results before the doctor calls.
You want to know the marriage will stay steady.
You want to know the kids will make good choices.
You want to know the money will stretch far enough.
You want to know the people you love will be safe.
And when you don't know, you start working.
You think about it.
Pray about it.
Research it.
Plan for it.
Prepare for every possible outcome.
As if enough effort could somehow create certainty.
But lately God has been teaching you something different.
Not through answers.
Through peace.
The kind of peace that shows up before the situation changes.
The kind that arrives when there are still questions on the table.
The kind that whispers, "You don't need to know everything. You just need to know Me."
In Acts 2, Peter stood before the crowd and quoted David's words:
"My body also will rest in hope."
Rest in hope.
Not rest in certainty.
Not rest in guarantees.
Hope.
Because hope is not confidence in an outcome.
Hope is confidence in God's presence.
It means trusting that even if the path twists in ways you didn't expect, you will not walk it alone.
So, dear little girl, stop striving for certainty.
Stop demanding tomorrow's answers before you've lived today.
The Spirit of God is already with you.
The same Spirit that raised Christ from the dead lives in you.
And maybe the miracle isn't finally getting the answer you've been waiting for.
Maybe the miracle is discovering you can rest before it arrives.
Rest in hope.
Not because you know what happens next.
Because you know Who goes with you.
Dear Little Girl…You Can Trust Without Overworking
For a long time, I believed safety was something I had to earn.
If I worked hard enough, planned well enough, and carried enough, then maybe I could finally relax.
But fear has a sneaky way of disguising itself as responsibility. It tells us to work harder, plan more, and carry extra "just in case."
What if God's invitation isn't to strive harder—but to trust deeper?
Dear Little Girl,
For a long time, you believed safety was something you had to earn.
If you worked hard enough.
Planned well enough.
Saved enough.
Prepared enough.
Then maybe you could finally relax.
But lately, God has been gently showing you a different way.
The truth is, fear has a sneaky way of disguising itself as responsibility.
It tells you to work a little harder.
Plan a little more.
Carry a little extra.
It whispers that if you let your guard down, everything might fall apart.
And if you're honest, there are still moments when you believe it.
Moments when you worry about the future.
About your family.
About your business.
About whether you'll be able to carry what tomorrow brings.
But fear doesn't get to lead anymore.
In Genesis 35, God called Jacob back to Bethel—the place where he first encountered Him while running for his life.
This time, however, God wasn't calling Jacob to run.
He was calling him to return.
To settle.
To trust.
Before he left, Jacob buried the idols he had been carrying and set out in obedience. He didn't have all the answers. He didn't have guarantees. He simply trusted the God who had been faithful before.
That part stops me every time.
God didn't need Jacob to be perfect.
He needed him to show up.
Maybe that's what God is asking of us too.
To bury the idols we've built out of control, striving, money, productivity, and self-reliance.
To stop believing that our safety depends on how much we can carry.
To trust that God's provision is bigger than our plans.
Because God's provision is not a paycheck.
It's His presence.
It's His promises.
It's His peace.
For years, I thought I had to prove my worth.
To earn love.
To earn rest.
To earn safety.
But that isn't the Gospel.
I am worthy because He says I am.
You are worthy because He says you are.
Not because of what you produce.
Not because of what you achieve.
Not because of how much you carry.
Just because you belong to Him.
So today, dear girl, you can loosen your grip.
You don't have to earn your safety.
You don't have to overwork to be protected.
You don't have to carry tomorrow before it arrives.
God is already there.
And He is with you here, too.
Love,
Amy
Dear Little Girl…Put Down the Bricks
Somewhere along the way, you learned to build your own towers—structures of control, perfection, people-pleasing, and fear. But what if God was never asking you to carry the weight? What if today is the day you put down the bricks?
Dear Little Girl,
You've always wanted to get it right.
To make sure everyone is okay.
To keep the peace.
To solve the problem before it becomes a crisis.
To build something strong enough that nothing can fall apart.
So you pick up another brick.
A brick of responsibility.
A brick of worry.
A brick of control.
A brick of "what if."
And before you know it, you're carrying a tower God never asked you to build.
In Genesis, the people of Babel gathered with one goal: to build a tower high enough to secure their future and make a name for themselves.
Brick by brick, they trusted their own plans more than God's purpose.
But then we reach Pentecost.
Again, people gathered.
Again, many languages.
Again, uncertainty about what would come next.
But this time, they didn't build.
They waited.
They prayed.
They trusted.
And when the Spirit moved, what human effort could never accomplish, God did.
Do you see the difference, Little Girl?
One group tried to force the future.
The other trusted God with it.
Maybe that's the invitation for you too.
In your parenting.
In your marriage.
In your healing.
In your business.
In the questions you keep carrying around long after you've handed them to God.
Put down the bricks.
You don't have to manage every outcome.
You don't have to fix every problem.
You don't have to carry responsibilities that belong to God.
You don't have to build the tower.
You simply have to stay close to the One who already sees the whole picture.
The same Spirit who filled that upper room is alive and at work today.
He's not asking you to strive harder.
He's asking you to trust deeper.
So breathe.
Put down the bricks.
Step away from the tower.
And listen for the whisper.
You are loved.
You are seen.
And you never had to build the tower to prove your worth.
Love,
Your Older, Wiser Self
(The one still learning to put down the bricks too.)
Dear Little Girl…You Don’t Have To Chase God
You keep thinking you'll meet God in the next season. After the answer arrives. After life settles down. After everyone is okay. But what if He wants to meet you here? Right in the middle of your ordinary life.
Dear Little Girl,
The busy season is ending.
The performances have happened.
The schedules are shifting.
The deadlines that felt so urgent are beginning to loosen their grip.
And yet...
You still find yourself carrying things.
The questions.
The worries.
The hopes you have for people you love.
You thought peace would arrive when life finally settled down.
But peace was never waiting on a clear calendar.
Peace has always been a Person.
You keep thinking you'll meet God in the next season.
After the trip.
After the decision.
After the answer arrives.
After everyone is okay.
But what if He wants to meet you here?
Not in the finished version of the story.
Not after you've figured it out.
Here.
In the ordinary summer morning.
In the quiet cup of coffee.
In the walk around the neighborhood.
In the empty chair waiting for you to sit down.
You don't have to create a spiritual breakthrough.
You don't have to chase a feeling.
You don't have to prove your faithfulness.
Simply show up.
The same God who met Jacob while he was running.
The same God who met Hagar in the wilderness.
The same God who met the disciples in their fear.
He still meets people right where they are.
And He will meet you too.
Not because you've earned it.
Not because you've finally gotten everything right.
But because He loves being with you.
So take a breath today.
Let the pressure leave your shoulders.
You do not have to force the next chapter.
You only have to take the next step.
God is already there.
Waiting.
Love,
God
Dear Little Girl…He Trusts You With His Sheep
You were never chosen because you would do it perfectly.
You were chosen because you would keep showing up with love.
Dear Little Girl,
You’re going to make mistakes.
You’ll say yes when you should’ve said no.
You’ll lose patience.
You’ll look back and wish you slowed down.
You’ll second guess yourself and wonder if you’re really equipped for all of this.
Motherhood.
Marriage.
Leadership.
People trusting you with tender things.
But listen closely…
He knew all of that before He ever chose you.
And He still trusted you.
To raise those boys.
To love people well.
To teach.
To nurture.
To lead.
To shepherd hearts.
You were never chosen because you would do it perfectly.
You were chosen because you would keep showing up with love.
Yes, there will be hard conversations.
There will be seasons where your heart aches watching your babies grow faster than you’re ready for.
There will be tension, hormones, fear, unknowns, and late-night Google searches trying to make sense of it all.
But you are not doing this alone.
You sit with the Shepherd.
And He is guiding you as you guide them.
You do not need to have all the answers.
You do not need to carry every outcome.
You do not need to parent from fear.
You simply need to stay close enough to hear His voice.
Because women were never created to be small.
Women were trusted to carry life.
To nurture faith.
To show up first at the empty tomb.
To carry hope back into the world.
And you, Little Girl, are still being trusted too.
Even when your voice shakes.
Even when you’re uncertain.
Even when you wish you were doing better.
You are still the one He chose for this season.
For these people.
For this life.
So breathe.
Sit in the chair again.
Open your heart again.
Ask again.
Trust again.
He will speak.
He always does.
🩷
Dear Little Girl…You Are Allowed to Receive
Maybe you’ve been so busy surviving the season that you forgot you are allowed to be cared for too. This week’s Dear Little Girl is a gentle reminder that receiving love, rest, support, and truth about who you are is not weakness — it’s healing.
Dear Little Girl,
Maybe May swept you away too.
The schedules.
The people.
The performances.
The caregiving.
The constant doing.
Maybe you’ve been so busy surviving the season that you forgot you are allowed to be cared for too.
There is a lot on your shoulders right now.
Not in a way that is breaking you…
but in a way that feels heavy.
Your home has felt different lately.
The atmosphere has shifted.
There’s tension you can feel but not always name.
And yet…
you’re still showing up.
With compassion.
With strength.
With boundaries.
That matters more than you realize.
You are doing something you didn’t always know how to do.
You are loving…
Without losing yourself.
You are helping…
Without taking on what isn’t yours.
You are staying open…
Without abandoning your own safety.
That is growth.
That is healing.
That is Me in you.
But there is something deeper stirring in your heart today.
Something quieter…
But just as important.
You’re starting to notice it.
The way you struggle to receive.
The way you shrink back when attention turns toward you.
The way you brush off affirmation…
Even when part of you longs for it.
You wonder,
“Why is this so hard for me?”
Let Me gently show you something.
Receiving is not pride.
And minimizing yourself is not humility.
When you push away affirmation…
When you downplay who you are…
When you refuse to fully receive what is true about you…
You are not being humble.
You are struggling to believe what I already say is true.
You are My creation.
My art.
My intentional design.
Nothing about you was accidental.
Your compassion.
Your strength.
Your creativity.
Your loyalty.
Your fight.
Your softness.
It all came from Me.
So when someone celebrates you…
When someone sees you…
When someone speaks truth about who you are…
They are not inflating you.
They are recognizing something I placed inside you.
And when you deflect it…
When you minimize it…
When you immediately say, “Oh, it’s nothing…”
You dim something I created to shine.
You don’t have to become boastful.
You don’t have to become someone you’re not.
You don’t have to perform or prove anything.
You simply have to receive.
Receive the compliment.
Receive the help.
Receive the love that reaches toward you.
Receive the truth:
You are worthy.
Not because of what you’ve done.
Not because of how far you’ve come.
But because you are Mine.
Even in your hardest seasons…
Even in your mistakes…
Even in the moments you would rather forget…
You were still Mine.
You were still worthy.
So today…
Let this be the beginning.
Not of becoming someone new…
But of fully accepting who you already are.
You can be strong and soft, humble and seen, grounded and celebrated, all at the same time.
And one day…
You won’t shrink when the light finds you.
You’ll stand in it.
Peacefully.
Confidently.
Without apology.
Because you finally understand…
You are not the one being glorified.
I am.
Through you.
Love,
God
Dear Little Girl…You Can Be Kind and Still Have Boundaries
If your life feels heavy, your peace feels disrupted, and you’re trying to hold it all together… this is for you.
You can love someone without absorbing their chaos.
You can be kind without giving full access.
And you can protect your peace… without losing your heart.
If you feel like you’re carrying everything right now and quietly losing pieces of yourself… this is for you.
Dear Little Girl,
This feels like a lot right now, doesn’t it?
Your home doesn’t feel like your home.
The rhythm is off.
The peace you fought so hard for feels disrupted.
There’s noise.
There’s emotion.
There’s a constant pull on your heart and your energy.
And part of you just wants your life back.
But here you are.
Still showing up.
Still choosing kindness.
Still offering safety to someone who needs it.
That matters.
More than you realize.
But I want you to hear this clearly:
Kindness does not mean access.
Love does not mean absorption.
And compassion does not mean you have to carry what is not yours.
You are learning something sacred right now.
You can sit with someone in their pain…
without stepping into their chaos.
You can listen…
without agreeing.
You can love…
without losing yourself.
I know it frustrates you.
The conversations on repeat.
The cycle you can clearly see…
even when she cannot.
You want to fix it.
You want her to see it.
You want it to stop.
But this is not yours to fix.
And I know something else is stirring in you too.
The stories.
The ones you’ve told yourself your whole life.
That when someone leaves… it must mean something.
That when something feels off… you must adjust yourself to fit.
That if you just try a little harder… you can make things feel safe again.
That little girl was trying to protect you.
She made sense of things the only way she knew how.
And she did a beautiful job.
But you are not her anymore.
You don’t have to create stories to feel safe.
You don’t have to overextend to belong.
You don’t have to shrink or shape-shift or self-medicate
just to feel included.
You are already safe.
You are already worthy.
You are already enough… exactly as you are.
So today…
When the conversation starts again…
you can gently step away.
When the energy feels heavy…
you can protect your space.
When your peace feels disrupted…
you can return to Me.
You don’t have to harden.
You don’t have to shut down.
You just have to stay rooted.
You said it yourself…
“I can offer safety… without absorbing chaos.”
Yes.
That is the way forward.
And one more thing, sweet girl…
It’s okay that this feels lonely sometimes.
You are learning how to live as your true self.
And that can feel unfamiliar at first.
But slowly…
you will find your people.
Your rhythm.
Your peace again.
You are not losing your life.
You are reclaiming it.
Love,
God
Dear Little Girl…You Don’t Have to Carry It All
You don’t have to carry everything you’re feeling right now.
Not the stress, not the pressure, not the weight of everyone else’s needs.
Dear Little Girl,
This feels like a lot right now, doesn’t it?
More than you expected.
More than you planned for.
More than you feel like you have space for.
Your home feels full.
Your heart feels stretched.
And your body is trying to keep up with it all.
One moment you’re okay…
the next you feel like you can’t breathe.
I want you to hear this, softly…
You are not failing.
You are feeling.
And there is a difference.
There are layers here.
You’re holding space for someone in your home.
You’re supporting your husband… even when you feel unseen.
You’re caring for your son… whose heart you can feel so deeply.
You’re showing up to work… to your calling… to your life.
Of course this feels like a lot.
Because it is.
But I want to gently take something off your shoulders.
You do not have to carry all of this.
Not the tension.
Not the fear.
Not the outcomes.
Not the weight of other people’s choices.
You can love…
without absorbing.
You can support…
without taking responsibility for everything.
You can be present…
without losing yourself.
And I know you’re tired.
Tired of the noise.
Tired of the pressure.
Tired of feeling like your space isn’t fully your own.
Tired of being the steady one when everything around you feels unsteady.
But listen closely…
You are not alone in this.
Not for a moment.
Not even when it feels quiet.
Not even when it feels overwhelming.
Not even when you wish someone else could just step in and take some of this from you.
You said it yourself…
You just need to put one foot in front of the other
and breathe.
Yes.
That is enough for today.
Not fixing everything.
Not solving everything.
Not carrying everything.
Just…
one step
one breath
one moment at a time
And when resentment creeps in…
let it be a signal, not a failure.
A signal that you need rest.
Space.
Support.
A return to yourself.
You are allowed to have needs too.
You are allowed to feel overwhelmed.
You are allowed to ask Me to step in.
And I am.
I am holding what you cannot.
I am steady when you feel shaken.
I am present when everything feels too much.
So today…
Release what is not yours.
Hold onto what is.
And trust that even here—
in the middle of the mess, the noise, the exhaustion—
you are still being held.
Love,
God
Dear Little Girl…God Is in the Ordinary (Easter Edition)
You keep looking for God in the big moments…
but what if He’s been showing up in the ordinary all along?
Dear Little Girl,
You thought resurrection would feel bigger.
Louder.
Clearer.
More obvious.
But here you are…
on Easter morning, a little tired, a little foggy,
trying to find your footing after a full few days.
And I want you to notice something.
You’re still here.
Still talking to Me.
Still soft.
Still open.
That is resurrection too.
You stood this past week and honored someone you loved.
You showed up when it mattered.
You spoke the words.
You felt the weight of it… and the beauty.
And then…
You laughed with your sister.
You saw her differently.
You softened toward her in a way you hadn’t before.
That shift?
That is Me.
Not just in the prayer you spoke…
but in the way your heart changed afterward.
You are beginning to understand something that will set you free:
Not everything is yours to carry.
Not every situation is yours to fix.
Not every storm is yours to step into.
You can love…
without losing yourself.
You can care…
without controlling the outcome.
You can say,
“This is not mine to solve,”
and still be deeply compassionate.
That is growth.
That is healing.
That is Me in you.
And today…
You feel a little off.
Maybe it’s the emotions.
Maybe it’s the exhaustion.
Maybe it’s Will leaving for the summer.
But you wonder quietly,
“Where are You in this?”
I’m right here.
In the quiet drive.
In the studio.
In the little ones running toward you.
In the laughter around your table.
In the memories that still take your breath away.
Those moments?
They are not random.
They are reminders of My goodness.
You read it this morning and it stayed with you:
Celebration at its very best is a response to God’s goodness… not a reward for our own.
Yes.
That feeling when your dancers move closer and closer to you…
That moment when your boys are all together, laughing, alive, home…
You didn’t earn that.
That is My goodness.
And today, we celebrate Easter.
Not just that I died.
Not just that I rose.
But that I am still rising.
In you.
In your softened heart.
In your new perspective.
In your ability to see differently today than you did yesterday.
Resurrection is not just a moment in history.
It is happening in your life.
Right now.
So don’t miss it.
Don’t rush past it.
Don’t wait for something bigger to believe I’m here.
The ordinary moments that take your breath away…
That’s where I live.
Love,
God