Christmas Eve has always carried a quiet magic for me—a time when the hustle of the season seems to pause, even if briefly. This past year, however, that night felt different. I found myself in a place I’d recently started attending—where my mom grew up—surrounded by kind faces and warm hearts. As the soft glow of a candle flickered in my hand during Silent Night, I sensed something stirring deep within me.

The Urge to Run

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been hurt by church, and each disappointment seemed to confirm my fear that belonging always comes with a risk of pain. My reaction? I’d leave, looking for a new place—hoping it might feel safer and offer me some exciting “new thing.” I would fill the holes in my heart by jumping in with both feet to serve—because I love helping others and truly believed that’s what God wanted me to do.

But as I look back now, I see it was more about coping than actually healing. Each time, I never fully processed why I was leaving; I only knew I had to escape the pain. Then, I’d pour myself into a new ministry or volunteer role, thinking service would fix everything.

All of that began to change on Christmas Eve. In the stillness, I felt God whisper, “It’s time to heal. Be still.” I realized healing doesn’t always come from the busyness of serving or from the promise of a new church. Now I attend a place where those obligations aren’t placed on me, and I’m free to just come and hear the message God has for me that day. I’m learning to find my way back to the Word, picking up the pieces without the weight of any responsibility besides being myself.

That gentle nudge to heal stayed with me, and as I approached the new year, I found myself thinking more about what it really means to be still and rest in God’s presence. In past years, I tried the usual resolutions, but nothing felt right—until God placed a single word on my heart: HEALING.

That’s how I knew I wanted to share my journey through writing. I’ve always found solace in writing—it’s how I process the highs and lows of life. This year, instead of juggling multiple goals, I’m centering everything on healing: spiritually, emotionally, and physically.

Embracing Stillness

In my experience, stillness is often more challenging than running. But I’m discovering there’s a profound sense of freedom when you allow yourself to just be in a church setting—no committees, no leadership roles, no striving. Simply letting God do the mending in His own time.

This blog is an extension of that stillness. It’s a space to face my own pain head-on, to acknowledge that healing isn’t a quick fix but a gradual process. Each word I write is another step along the path—a tangible way to see how far I’ve come and where I still need to grow.

A Note to Fellow Runners

Even though I’m committing to this path of healing, I want to be real about how messy it can get. Stepping out of my comfort zone, following God’s nudge to “Be still,” and reflecting on old wounds has brought up a lot of pain. Sometimes, it’s downright uncomfortable. I’ve even faced rejection when trying to reconnect and start mending relationships—reminders that this process can be heartbreaking. Healing isn’t neat, and it certainly isn’t pretty.

Despite all of that, I’m moving forward. If you’ve been hurt by a place that was supposed to feel like home, I hope my story offers a little comfort. We don’t have to run forever. We can choose a different path—one where we acknowledge the pain yet trust that God is big enough to handle it.

As I walk through 2025 with healing as my focus, I invite you to follow along if something here resonates with you. I’m not an expert, just a fellow traveler who’s finally letting God guide her instead of sprinting away at the first sign of trouble. It won’t be easy, but I truly believe there’s hope on the other side of all this hurt.

Thank you for walking this road with me. May this be a year where we both discover that healing can be real—right here, right now—when we dare to be still in the arms of a God who never fails us, no matter what walls surround us.

Hugs and Healing!