Purpose After Pain

Purpose After Pain

December 28, 2025

Almost two years ago, I lost my uncle—one of the main reasons I am here in Atlanta today.

Before the move ever happened, I prayed. The journey truly began in 2019 when I moved into a home I had also prayed for. At that time, my desire was simple but deep: I wanted my children to be somewhere they could grow, feel safe, and be covered. I don’t downplay anyone living in the projects—every place has value—but for me, that move was a milestone. It taught me appreciation. It taught me stewardship. It taught me that when God gives you something, you take care of it.

After my divorce, I began to recognize something hard but necessary: much of the life I had been living was built around what I did for others just to keep them in my life. Somewhere along the way, I lost parts of myself trying to hold space for everyone else.

Through all of that, I stayed in touch with my uncle. I had visited him when I was younger, and I just liked who he was—his spirit, his presence, his heart. Over the years, we checked in here and there. Then a time came when the family began discussing how someone needed to live with him. He was alone and dealing with illnesses.

So, I prayed.

And God opened the door.

But when my uncle passed almost two years ago, something shifted in me. I became uncomfortable in ways I didn’t have language for. I was angry. I was heartbroken. I felt lost all at the same time. The grief didn’t just come from the loss—it came from the revelation that followed.

Some family members I thought would be there for me and my children turned a different leaf.

This isn’t written to down-talk anyone. This is written to alert you.

There is an awakening that comes in life when God refuses to let you get comfortable. There is a pressing that happens when He is ready to release oil from within you. You will feel shaken. You will feel beaten. You will feel stretched beyond what feels fair.

But that pressing is not punishment—it’s purpose.

The situation caused me to make a sudden move. I packed up and reached out to a friend, not fully knowing where I was going. What I did know was that God and I had been talking—not once, but many times. And every time I moved, He answered with open doors.

During that same season, I was fired from a job I actually enjoyed. Again, I learned something painful but powerful: you don’t truly know where your support is until you learn to lean and depend fully on Jesus.

I remember speaking something into the atmosphere during that time. I was shifting—no longer moved by opinions, but anchored in what God said. I prayed, “Lord, I just need one month. One month for me and my children to get a home of our own.”

At the time, it was just me and my two sons—ages nine and fifteen. We shared one room in my friend’s house. I stayed faithful to 5 a.m. prayer. I searched for work. I tried to keep my boys grounded while driving them back across town to school. I took another job, then had to leave it when God opened a familiar door—one that came with lessons I didn’t yet understand.

Through it all, God was teaching me patience. He was teaching me boldness. He was teaching me not to shrink back, but to step forward.

Yes, it may get uncomfortable.

But don’t fear.

Don’t run.

Don’t shrink back.

Walk boldly in Jesus Christ.

His promises are yes and amen.

He will protect you.

Within that month of prayer—and the words I spoke in faith—I received a townhouse. Not just what I asked for, but more. I had the money for what was required. And God used friends—real friends—who didn’t leave during my season of loss and grief to help us get settled into our new home.

If I haven’t said it enough: thank you.

You know who you are. Thank you for your time, your sacrifices, your love. We love you—but God loves you even more.

This is purpose after pain.

And if He did it for me, He can do it for you.

Happy New Year 

January 11, 2026

Chosen, Aligned, and Called to Disciple

Today’s service left a deep imprint on my heart.

There was a time in my life when survival was the only goal. I couldn’t think past what I saw or felt in the moment. Every decision was about making it to the next hour, the next day—without any real picture of what my future could look like. I lived reacting, not dreaming.

Even now, I don’t know exactly what tomorrow holds. But the difference is this: I have certainty. A quiet, grounded knowing that what’s ahead is amazingly great.

Because today, I live with peace, joy, and love—things I once only imagined from a distance.

Learning to Receive Love

For a long time, my deepest desire was to love and to be loved. Not from a place of desperation, but from a place of worth. From finally knowing that I deserve love—not because of what I do, how hard I try, or how much I give—but simply because I exist.

I no longer feel the need to perform to be accepted.

I no longer hide my emotions to survive.

I can express how I feel openly, honestly, and without shame.

Even my eleven-year-old son reminds me daily of how intentional God is. Sometimes he speaks with a wisdom that makes me pause—like he’s been here before. In those moments, I don’t question it. I recognize his presence in my life as purposeful, timely, and sacred.

Jesus Chooses—Fully Aware

During service today, the Pastor spoke about how Jesus prayed before choosing His disciples—and how He handpicked them with full knowledge of who they were.

That part stayed with me.

Jesus didn’t choose them blindly.

He didn’t choose potential without awareness.

He didn’t select perfection.

He chose them knowing:

• One was a killer
• One would betray Him
• Some would doubt
• Some would fail publicly
• Some would not look like what people expected in times of despair

And still… He said, “I choose you.”

That truth stopped me in my tracks.

Jesus didn’t wait for them to become worthy. He chose them as they were, already aware of what they would do and what they were capable of—both good and bad.

Staying Aligned Through Prayer

We talked about the importance of prayer—not just as communication, but as alignment. Prayer keeps our hearts positioned with God. It keeps us aware, humble, and open. Without it, we drift. With it, we remain anchored.

Alignment doesn’t mean perfection.

It means posture.

It means staying submitted.

It means continually returning to God, even when we’re unsure.

From Healing to Discipleship

The Pastor also spoke about discipleship—about being a servant to someone else once we’ve experienced healing and love in Christ.

That challenged me.

If I am healed…

If I am loved…

If someone once walked with me, prayed for me, poured into me…

Then who am I now called to shepherd?

God left the ninety-nine to go after the one.

And at some point, we become the ones who go back for others.

Discipleship is giving what was once given to us.

It’s not about position or titles.

It’s about relationship, presence, and obedience.

We don’t disciple because we have all the answers.

We disciple because we remember what it felt like to be the one who needed someone.

Chosen to Give What We Received

I’m reminded today that being chosen isn’t the end of the story—it’s the beginning of responsibility.

We stay aligned through prayer.

We walk humbly through healing.

And we serve faithfully through discipleship.

Because Jesus didn’t just choose us for ourselves.

He chose us so that, in time, we would help choose others.

And that… is love in action.

Title: Still Standing, Still Becoming

Date: January 25, 2026

Time: 3:00 PM EST

There are seasons when life is loud—and seasons when silence is necessary.

If I’m honest, I haven’t posted in a while. Not because the vision faded, but because I was still living the message I write about. Healing doesn’t always come with updates. Sometimes it comes quietly, behind the scenes, where God is doing deep work you can’t rush or perform.

My book, I Will Not Miscarry! I Have Purpose, was never just a project. It is my testimony. It is proof that pain does not get the final word. That purpose can survive neglect, loss, disappointment, and waiting. That even when life tries to abort the promise, God preserves what He has spoken.

This journey has taught me that growth isn’t always visible—but it is always intentional. I am learning how to rest without quitting, to pause without giving up, and to trust God even when the next step isn’t fully clear.

If you’ve been in a season where you felt delayed, forgotten, or unsure—this is your reminder: you are not behind. You are becoming.

Thank you for being here. Thank you for reading. And thank you for walking this journey with me. More is coming—on purpose, in time, and with intention.

With hope,

Stephanie