A Tender Day: Holding Pain, Sewing Dresses, and Trusting His Promises
This morning I had to face some very raw, negative emotions.
A few things triggered me early on, and I could feel it starting to spiral. At one point, I had to stop and really ask myself: Where is this coming from?
And I knew. I saw the root.
A friend shared that her daughter gave birth to healthy twin girls—and my heart quietly tore in two. I am thrilled for them, truly. But I am also broken for myself.
What No One Sees
I’ve had two miscarriages—one that landed me in the hospital—and no pregnancies since. God gave me a promise of two girls seventeen years ago—and it’s never left me. I carry it daily. I think about it often. It’s a part of me.
Today, I was faced with a choice:
Do I spiral into grief and comparison, or do I give my hopes, my dreams, and my pain to Jesus?
I chose Jesus.
I cried in His presence. I let Him hold my pain instead of trying to hide from it. It doesn’t erase the ache, but it gives me rest. This isn’t what I expected to write today, but it’s what is real.
Sewing Dresses and Keeping Promises
Today wasn’t meant to be about grief—it was supposed to be a sewing day. But instead of making linen pants for myself, I’m working on two Montana dresses by Style Arc—one for my mother-in-law and one for my sister-in-law.
I promised these as birthday gifts… let’s just say I’m a few months behind.
I have today and tomorrow to get them finished so that I can spend Sunday and Monday making an Easter dress for myself. Ambitious? Yes. But I’ve always worked best that way—busy hands, full heart, a plan in motion.
Sitting with the Pain
Emotionally, it’s still been a hard day.
It’s not the fact that my friend’s daughter had twins—that was just the trigger. It’s the reminder of what I’ve lost, what I’ve longed for, and what still hasn’t come.
Yes, I’ve prayed. Yes, I’m trusting Jesus with it. But that doesn’t mean the pain disappears. It just means I’m not alone in it. He is with me—holding my hand, steadying my breath, reminding me that I’m seen.
“We can trust that His promises are always true because they have always been true. He is still God.”
I paused today more than once, just to take a deep breath and feel it. Not to fix it. Not to push it away. Just to be present.
As I cut out sewing patterns and listened to this book I’d set aside for weeks, that line felt like it was spoken just for me—a whisper from my Father straight to my aching heart.
Maybe you’ve had a day like this too. One that was supposed to go one way, but instead, became something heavier, more honest.
If you’re in a waiting season, or sitting in sorrow, I just want to say—you’re not alone.
What helps you hold onto hope when it feels quiet?
