#hope

Scripture: Proverbs 19:21

At the time, rejection felt personal and painful. Only later did I realize it wasn't denial—it was direction. What I thought I was losing wasn't part of God's plan, and what came next was something I never could have imagined asking for.

Scripture: Psalm 37:4

There's a future I carry quietly — one shaped by love, family, and second chances. I don't talk about it much, not because it's small, but because it matters too much to handle carelessly.

Scripture: Isaiah 30:18

I don't need tomorrow to prove anything to me anymore. I just need to stay open enough to receive it when it arrives.

Scripture: Proverbs 24:16

Failure once felt final to me. Over time, faith reshaped how I saw falling—not as disqualification, but as an invitation to rise with humility, and renewed trust in God's grace.

Scripture: Romans 15:13

I didn't decide to hope again—it simply showed up. This chapter reflects on the quiet return of openness, confidence, and trust after a long season of restraint, grief, and waiting.

Scripture: 2 Corinthians 4:16-17

I didn't leave my beginnings behind. I carried them with me—into adulthood, into love, into fatherhood, into faith. This is what survived with me.

Scripture: Psalm 27:14

I still hope — but not the way I used to. Hope now feels quieter, slower, and more deliberate. It no longer demands outcomes; it waits with intention.

Scripture: Lamentations 3:31-33

There is a loneliness that comes from being alone—and another that comes from betraying yourself to stay connected. This chapter is about choosing the first, and learning why it hurt less in the end.

Scripture: Proverbs 16:9

Faith didn't arrive as certainty—it arrived as persistence. Looking back, I'm beginning to recognize God's hand not in the obvious moments, but in the quiet redirections that kept my story moving forward.

Scripture: Psalm 34:18

Love didn't leave all at once. It faded quietly—settling into empty chairs, unanswered phones, and the habits the heart is slow to unlearn. This chapter begins not with romance, but with what remains after it ends, and the slow, honest work of learning how to hope again.