Tag: grace

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Even When It Still Looks Like Just Dirt

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I found myself out in the garden with my uncle the other day. Him just starting his own, looking at me like I was some kind of expert.

I almost laughed.

Because just a little while ago, I was the one Googling, guessing, and hoping something—anything—would grow.

But there I was… walking him through it. Pointing to each plant. Naming what was what. Explaining what needed covering, what needed watering, what needed just a little more time—especially with that unexpected return to winter creeping back into the forecast.

“Watch this one.” “Protect that one.” “This one’s doing just fine.”

And then we got to those two patches. Just… buckets of dirt.

No green. No signs of life. No proof that anything had taken root at all.

I didn’t have a confident answer for those. I didn’t know if it was bad seed.Didn’t know if it was timing. Didn’t know if something had already failed before it ever had a chance to show itself.

But I heard myself say it anyway: “Give it two more weeks.”

Not because I had evidence… but because I understood something deeper. Everything that looks like nothing  isn’t nothing.

Some things take longer to break through. Some growth happens where you cannot see it first. Some seeds are doing their most important work in the dark. 

And maybe that’s where I am too.

Not behind.

Not forgotten.

Just… still becoming.

God is not rushing this season.

He is tending to me with intention—even in the places that look like bare soil.

Especially there.

Say this aloud with me:

I am not behind. I am not forgotten.

God is tending to me with intention, even in the quiet places.

What is meant for me is still growing, even when I cannot see it yet.

Isaiah 30:15

“In quietness and trust is your strength.”

Galatians 6:9

“Let us not grow weary in doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.”

Dear God,

Thank You for the places in my life that are growing even when I cannot see them.

Help me trust You in the waiting, in the wondering, and in the not knowing.

Give me patience for what is still beneath the surface, and faith to believe that nothing You’ve planted in me is wasted.

Remind me that I am not behind—I am still becoming.

Amen.

God sees you… trusting the soil, even when it looks like dirt.

Love, Chelle

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When Praise Cost You A Toe ( and a Little Pride)

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This morning was supposed to be simple.

Just me, a broom, and some soft worship music. Nothing dramatic. Nothing deep. Just cleaning the house and minding my business.

But somewhere between sweeping one corner and turning toward the next…
that broom turned into a rhythm.

And that rhythm turned into a sway.
And that sway turned into a little two-step.

Now listen… I have not truly praise danced since my early 30s. And even then, let’s be honest, even then,I was in the back of the sanctuary respectfully copying the professionals 😌

But this morning?
Oh, I was feeling it.
Clumsy? Yes.
Anointed? Also yes.

And for a moment, it felt free.
Like I could just stay right there…
moving, praising, forgetting everything else.

And that’s where it shifted.

Because instead of staying in the praise,
my mind wandered into the problems I was trying to outdance.

Like Peter stepping out on the water in Matthew 14:29–30. As long as his eyes were on Jesus, he was good. But the moment he looked at the wind? He started sinking.

Well…The moment I stopped focusing on the praise and started focusing on everything else… I didn’t sink.

I stubbed my pinky toe.

And not just a polite little tap either. No ma’am. The kind that makes you see your whole life flash before your eyes.

Which then threw me off balance…
which then reminded my knee about that old meniscus injury from my 30s…

So now I’m in the middle of my living room,
half praising, half limping, trying to decide if I need prayer or an ice pack.

But here’s the thing Even through the pain, my thoughts got corrected. Because I realized:

Praising your way through something will cost you if you stop mid-praise to pick your problems back up.

You can’t hold both.
Not well anyway.

And right there—in between the limp and the laughter— I had to laugh at myself. Because I know I looked like something.

Just me… off beat… off balance…
still trying to be faithful in the middle of it.
And while nobody else saw it…

God did. And I believe He smiled. Because it wasn’t perfect. But it was real.

And if you needed this today…

Go ahead and praise anyway.
Even if it’s off rhythm.
Even if it’s in your kitchen.
Even if it turns into a wobble instead of a dance. Just… keep your eyes in the right place.

And if you do happen to stumble? Laugh, reset, and keep moving. Because the goal was never perfection.

It was presence.

Love, Chelle
defygravitywithoutwings.com 💛

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Lace Under My Armor

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Someone told me I was one of the strongest women they know. Juggling a crippling set of battles and making it look easy.

I smiled… but something in me shifted.

Because strength has a way of being misunderstood.
People see what you carried.
They don’t always see what it cost you to carry it.

And before I could stop myself, I said it out loud:
“There is lace under my armor.”

Not everything about me is steel.
Not everything about me is survival.
There are still places in me that feel deeply.
Places that bruise.
Places that hope… even when hope has been stretched thin.

And right there… in this tender space… God met me with this:
2 Corinthians 12:9
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

Not weakness like quitting.
Not weakness like falling apart with no return.

But the kind that says…
I don’t have to be hard all the time.
I don’t have to pretend I am unaffected.
I don’t have to wear armor so tight that grace can’t get in.

And, I have learned about armor,
the belt of truth holding me steady,
the breastplate guarding my heart,
the shield lifted when the hits keep coming,
the helmet covering my thoughts,
the shoes that keep me standing when I’d rather sit down,
and the sword I reach for when I need to speak life.

Each piece doing what it was designed to do…
and still, not covering everything all the time.

There are moments when something sacred shows through;
a tender place,
an honest place,
a place still being healed.

Because His strength was never designed to sit on top of my perfection.
It settles into the soft places.
The honest places.
The lace.

So yes… I am strong.
But not because I stopped feeling.
Not because I became unbreakable.

I am strong because I let God meet me in the places that still are.

There is lace under my armor…
and sometimes, my slip shows.

And that is exactly where His grace rests.

Love,
Chelle
defygravitywithoutwings.com