Every day holds so many opportunities to let truth slip – with our minds like sieves and hearts easily forgetting what has come before.

In February, I sat with a couple thousand women in Austin, listening to messages of bravery, of laying down those things that hinder, of choosing life instead of death, of deciding to latch onto courage and hope rather than fear. It was good – really, really good. Time with new friends, and reconnecting with those I’ve known for years. My first trip on my own since becoming a Mama. I was encouraged, strengthened, and my heart was made tender for fresh things. New ideas that felt like life sprouted in my creative mind that had dried up during a season of challenge, and the courage that I drew from these words was really water in the desert to me.

And then, at the tail end of it all, I got a text message from home: Crisis. Grief. Loss. Again. Seriously? The timing was remarkable. It’s amazing how one text message can leave a person unhinged and all the truth you’ve collected falls to the floor with a hollow, panicked thud.

What I needed to be reminded of that day, and every day, is that God has not forgotten me, and that even in moments that change everything, His plans are still to prosper me, for His glory, and my good. There is hope in the desert, in our dry times – despite what we see. I need to be reminded that I have an enemy. One who seeks to devour and destroy – my joy, my hope, my life, my family, my marriage – and that my Creator is excellent in turning those things meant for evil into very good gifts. I need to be reminded that my God is greater. He is still sovereign – the mountain overlooking my walk through the valley of shadows.

He is..

He is still sovereign – the mountain overlooking my walk through the valley of shadows.

The crisis still happened, and we did experience a sad loss. Just two days after that text message, I flew across the country to be with my family as we journeyed through yet another step in our difficult year. And we got through it, not unscathed, and although we were pressed down, we were not destroyed.

One of the biggest gifts? During that time in Austin, the words of this song were etched onto my heart. Truth, truth, truth.

My prayer for you – and for me? That we would have these truths carved so deep in our souls that they become instinct when we respond to crisis, as we choose hope.