Holding onto Hope

This time of year often arrives wrapped in expectations—twinkling lights, perfect family gatherings, and Hallmark-worthy joy. But for many of us, the reality doesn’t quite match the picture-perfect image. My life is far from tidy, and I’ve learned to embrace the messy parts, especially during this season.

Always a baker, 2009

The holidays have always been a tough time for me, though I’ve never said that out loud until now. I think, in part, it’s because admitting it feels vulnerable, almost like I’m acknowledging something I’d rather avoid. But as I’ve been sharing pieces of my story and faith in these posts, I’ve realized that facing these thoughts head-on might bring healing—not just for me, but for others who feel the same way.

Embracing the Messy Parts of Life

I don’t want to come off as a "Debbie Downer" by sharing these thoughts, but lately, I feel the need to be honest about something that’s been on my heart. On the outside, I might seem positive and optimistic, and for the most part, I try to maintain that mindset. But I’ve come to realize something recently—life is messy. And sometimes, I need to share that with you.

We often feel the pressure to present ourselves as put-together, neat, and orderly. We want to appear strong, capable, and confident, but there are moments when it just doesn’t feel that way. The truth is, life doesn't always go according to plan. Sometimes we face struggles, frustration, and uncertainty—and it’s okay to admit that.

Crushing Oreos for Truffles, 2024

For so long, I've kept these raw, vulnerable feelings to myself. But there’s something incredibly freeing about acknowledging that not every moment in life is perfect or easy. Behind the smile or the "I'm doing fine" response, there may be a quiet storm of emotions and internal struggles that go unspoken.  I think it's important to share that, to let people see that sometimes life feels messy, even for those who might seem to have it all together.

And here's the thing: it's okay to be messy. It's okay to admit that you're not always okay. It doesn’t make you weak or less-than—it makes you human. It’s in these moments of vulnerability that we experience true growth and connection. It’s where we learn that we don’t have to walk through this journey alone, and that it’s okay to ask for help or lean on others when we need it. I’ll be the first to admit, I don’t like showing those parts of me at all.

I want to embrace the messy parts of life—because it’s in those messy moments that we find the real, raw truth about ourselves. And I want to share that truth with you, so you can know that if you’re feeling that way too, you're not alone. We all have our moments. We all have our battles. And sometimes, life is simply messy.

I want to be real with you, just as much as I want to be strong. Both sides are important parts of my journey, and I want to honor them equally. So here’s me, sharing the messy parts of my life with you. Thank you for letting me do that.

The Ache of Loneliness

For me, the struggle isn’t about a lack of invitations or people who care. I’ve been blessed with friends and family who try to include me, and I’m grateful. But there’s still a loneliness that comes with this season, especially when I look at my life and see what’s missing.

"I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you." (John 14:18)

I’m not married. I don’t have children. And while I love seeing the joy of the season in others’ lives, I can’t help but feel like an outsider sometimes—like the fifth wheel at gatherings. It’s not that anyone makes me feel this way intentionally; it’s just how the absence of certain things in my life feels magnified during this time.

One thing I miss in particular is that big, tight bear hug—the kind that wraps you in love and protection, where for just a moment, all your worries melt away, and you know, deep down, that everything is going to be all right. While life may look different now, I’m still so grateful for the people and moments that remind me I’m not walking this journey alone.

Cinnamon Sugar Banana Bread Donut Holes; Pecan Pie Bars; Oreo Truffles 

Finding Peace in the Quiet

To cope, I try to keep myself busy with things that bring me joy or purpose. Maybe I should bake more, as it’s something that centers me. There’s something grounding about creating something with my hands, especially during the holidays, when the act of giving—even if it’s just cookies or a pie—reminds me of the joy in blessing others.

"And let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to the which also ye are called in one body; and be ye thankful." (Colossians 3:15)

But even in the busy moments, the ache is still there. And that’s where my faith steps in. I remind myself that God is with me in the quiet, in the longing, and in the waiting. He sees the tears I don’t cry and the prayers I don’t say out loud. He knows the desires of my heart, and even when those desires feel unfulfilled, He’s still good.

Encouragement for the Season

If you feel the same way during the holidays—lonely, missing someone or something, or just longing for more—I want you to know that you’re not alone. It’s okay to feel what you feel. And it’s okay to create space for both the grief and the joy this season might bring.

"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." (Matthew 11:28)

Maybe together we can find ways to make this season meaningful, even in the quiet moments. Maybe it’s baking. Maybe it’s volunteering. Maybe it’s sitting with God and letting Him remind us that we’re seen and loved, exactly as we are.

The True Meaning of "Christmas"

As a Christian, Christmas is not just a festive holiday—it’s a sacred time to honor the birth of our Savior, Jesus Christ. While the Bible does not specify the exact date of His birth or mention "Christmas" as a holiday, it does recount the profound truth of His arrival into the world. This truth is enough for me because I believe in the infallibility of God’s Word.

Unfortunately, much of the holiday has been commercialized, shifting the focus to materialism and distractions. While these traditions may surround us, I choose to center my heart on the deeper truth: celebrating the gift of God’s Son, sent to save us from our sins.

"And she shall bring forth a son, and thou shalt call his name JESUS: for he shall save his people from their sins." (Matthew 1:21)

This miracle isn’t tied to December 25th or any earthly customs—it’s the timeless truth that God so loved the world, He gave His only Son (John 3:16). The Savior had to be born to fulfill God’s divine plan. His birth was the promise of redemption, a light piercing the darkness of this world. Without His birth, there could be no death on the cross, no resurrection, and no salvation for humanity. Salvation is the message of hope.

"For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord." (Luke 2:11)

Finding Comfort in the Word

When feelings of loneliness weigh on me, I find myself turning to the Word of God. It’s not always the same passage, but simply reading scripture and talking to Him provides a grounding I can’t find anywhere else. In those quiet, tear-filled moments, I am reminded that I am not alone—God is near, even when my heart feels otherwise.

"The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart; and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit." (Psalm 34:18)

What comforts me most is knowing that Jesus, our Savior, experienced loneliness too. I think of Him on the cross, bearing the sins of the world, and how He cried out, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46). In that moment, He felt the weight of separation so we would never have to. That understanding reminds me that He knows my heartache and empathizes with my struggles in ways no one else can.

Whenever I feel distraught and isolated, the knowledge that Jesus willingly endured loneliness and suffering to redeem us reassures me. It’s in those moments of prayer and scripture reading that I feel His presence most deeply. It’s as if He whispers, “I understand. I’m with you. You are never truly alone.”

Making Scripture Personal

One practice that has brought me immense comfort is personalizing scripture, especially passages of prayer. When I come across a verse where God’s promises or blessings are directed to "you" or "me," I replace those pronouns with my own name. This small act transforms the Word into a deeply personal reminder that God’s love and plans are specifically for me.

One passage that I often turn to is Paul’s prayer in Ephesians 3:14–21. Here’s how I might read it, inserting my name:

“For this cause I bow my knees unto the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, Of whom the whole family in heaven and earth is named, That He would grant Felicia, according to the riches of His glory, to be strengthened with might by His Spirit in the inner man; that Christ may dwell in Felicia’s heart by faith; that Felicia, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all saints what is the breadth, and length, and depth, and height; and to know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge, that Felicia might be filled with all the fulness of God. Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us, Unto him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus throughout all ages, world without end. Amen.”

Reading this prayer with my name reminds me that God’s promises are for me personally. It’s as if He is speaking directly into my heart, reassuring me of His strength, presence, and unfathomable love.

This practice has been a source of great encouragement during the holidays, especially in moments of loneliness. Personalizing scripture allows me to feel God’s nearness in a tangible way and strengthens my connection with Him. It reminds me that He sees me, knows my struggles, and is actively working in my life, even when I can’t see it.

Be encouraged. 🧡