As I write this, there are quiet tears in my eyes. Not dramatic tears, but the kind that come from deep relief. The kind that come from finally exhaling after holding your breath for far too long. As I’m writing this, I am in complete awe of who God is.

Last year was one of the most draining years of my life. It felt endless, heavy, energetically exhausting, mentally overwhelming, and spiritually taxing. There were moments when it seemed like the year would never end. I felt as though I was walking through mud, step after step, just trying to survive. At times, it felt like one of those movies where someone is sinking in quicksand, with only my head above the surface, unable to do anything except remain patient and pray. I will not discredit God by saying 2025 was all bad, because that would not be true. I experienced new things, met new people, reconnected with some, and disconnected from others. I did a lot of solo road trips, sometimes getting in the car and driving with no real plan. There were moments I crossed state lines just to try food, and I have no regrets. I stepped far outside of my shell in 2025, and I learned lessons I know I needed.

As the end of the year approached, something in me shifted slowly, gently, and persistently. I felt a pull, not just to read my Bible more or pray more, but to be obedient. Fully and intentionally obedient.

Not out of fear.

Not out of obligation.

But out of surrender.

I no longer felt the desire to drink, not even a casual glass of red wine. I was already abstaining, and I felt led to extend that obedience to celibacy. I made a decision that I would no longer entertain men who were led by lust or who wanted access to my body without alignment. Not because I had to, but because my spirit no longer wanted it. I also felt called to release certain friendships, people I cared about deeply, but relationships that no longer aligned with where God was taking me.

When New Year’s Eve arrived and much of the world was celebrating loudly, I did something very different.

I sat alone by a fire pit, just me and God.

I burned my journals from the previous year, the ones filled with pain, confusion, grief, and survival. I burned old photos connected to people I no longer have relationships with and do not plan to reconnect with. Before the sun even rose, I cleaned my entire home from top to bottom. I threw away old cards, letters, and remnants from my last marriage. I cleaned out closets. I removed baggage I no longer needed to carry.

Then I prayed over every room.

It felt peaceful. It felt freeing. It felt like a physical weight lifted off my shoulders the moment I decided to fully surrender and be obedient.

When midnight came, I was not at a party.

I was in a hot Epsom salt bubble bath, reading my Bible.

I prayed and asked God to cleanse me, to remove from my life anyone who would pull me farther from Him. I asked Him to bless me exceedingly and abundantly, and I laid every burden down. I entered the new year knowing I would not be the same. Before the new year even rang in, I had a few hard conversations I needed to have. I made a conscious decision to release all emotional attachments to anyone from my past. I released resentment, anger, bitterness, ego, reckless speech, and emotional bondage. I became intentional about my words, my responses, my boundaries, and my obedience.

As I became more focused and grounded, the peace of God grew so strong that I do not even have words to describe it. I am usually the woman crying at the altar because life feels heavy, but this time I found myself smiling, hands lifted, reaching for God my Father.

On January 7th, I prayed privately, deeply and specifically. I asked God for clarity, abundance, and guidance in a very specific area of my life, one I will not share just yet, because not every blessing needs an audience. After that prayer, I read Ephesians 3:20 and 21, a reminder that God is able to do exceedingly, abundantly, above all we could ask or imagine, beyond our limits, beyond what we think is possible, beyond what we can even articulate.

Now fast forward to today, January 13th.

God has answered that January 7th prayer exceedingly and abundantly.

Not because He owes me.

Not because obedience earns favors.

But because obedience aligns us.

Before I ever received an external breakthrough, God rewarded me with something far greater, peace.

A peace I cannot explain.

A peace that arrived before the phone call.

A peace that guarded my heart when distraction tried to enter.

That peace was tested almost immediately.

The evening before the phone call that would change my life, someone from my past reached out unexpectedly. Someone familiar. Someone I once shared chemistry with. Someone I already knew was unequally yoked to me, which is why I had cut him off long ago.

And yet, my body reacted instantly.

Butterflies.

Temptation.

That familiar pull.

Instead of responding, I turned on worship music and turned it up loud. I prayed. I spoke in tongues. I filled my home with praise, and then I cooked dinner for my children. By the time I went to bed, that man was not even a thought.

The next morning, I sat in my office working on something I had prayed about. A few hours later, my phone rang.

That call was the answer to my January 7th prayer.

In that moment, something became very clear to me.

God did not bless me because I obeyed. My obedience positioned me to receive the blessing without chaos.

The peace came first.

The alignment came first.

Then the breakthrough followed.

I have learned that distraction often appears right before breakthrough. Old connections resurface. Emotional bait shows up. There is pressure to react instead of respond.

But when God blesses, He does it without regret, confusion, or emotional fallout. His blessings come with peace.

This is exactly what I write about in my book, Trusting God in the Storm. That book was born out of seasons where faith was not theoretical. It was survival. Seasons where trusting God did not feel easy, but it kept me standing. If you are walking through uncertainty, heartbreak, transition, or spiritual exhaustion, that book was written for you.

Today, everything I wrote about in Trusting God in the Storm came full circle. Because after the storm, there is always sunshine. Joy truly does come in the morning.

And I want to be very clear.

It is not about being perfect.

It is about endurance.

It is about obedience.

It is about trusting God when life is loud and unclear.

The peace I now live in did not arrive with a phone call.

It arrived with obedience.

If you are struggling, feeling stuck, or if last year drained you, it is never too late to return to God. It is never too late to realign. It is never too late to choose obedience over familiarity.

You do not have to be perfect.

You just have to be willing.

The peace you are looking for may already be waiting on the other side of obedience.

Do not give up. Your breakthrough is on the way.

-Shell