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Going Against the Tide

There are moments in life when we are faced with a choice.


Do we follow the crowd, do what feels safe, and stay within the expectations of others?


Or do we listen to the quiet whisper within us, the voice that keeps calling us towards something deeper, even when it feels uncomfortable, uncertain, and frightening?


Going against the tide requires courage.


It asks us to stand firm when others may not understand. It requires us to face fears of rejection, criticism, and disappointment. It asks us to trust something greater than ourselves, even when we cannot yet see where the path leads.


Following the tide is often easier. It offers acceptance, familiarity, and the reassurance that we are doing what everyone else is doing. Yet I have learned that when we simply drift with the current, we rarely discover who we truly are. We remain within the limits of what others expect, rather than stepping into the fullness of who God created us to be.


I believe that each of us has been given an inner wisdom, a God given intuition that gently guides us towards our purpose. And when we ignore that guidance, life has a way of bringing us back into alignment.


Sometimes that realignment is gentle.


And sometimes it comes through pain.


For a long time, I have felt God calling me to bring faith more openly into my work as a therapist. The calling has been there, quietly and consistently, but fear has often stood in the way.


What would people think?


Would I be judged?


Would others misunderstand me?


Would I lose clients?


These fears felt very real, and so I hesitated. I held back parts of myself, trying to fit into what felt acceptable, rather than fully embracing what felt deeply aligned.


Yet the whisper never left.


And then this morning, something happened that stopped me in my tracks.


Our beautiful pony, Star, was injured. Looking back, I know I ignored my own inner guidance and instead listened to the opinions and advice of others. My heart hurts seeing her suffer, and I have shed many tears today.


But within the sadness, something profound has emerged.


Star’s injury has become a wake up call.


A reminder.


An invitation.


Not to continue living according to the expectations of others, but to return to the truth that has always been within me.


To stop resisting.


To stop being afraid.


To stop swimming with the tide when God has been asking me to walk a different path.


Sometimes life’s difficult moments are not punishments. They are invitations. They gently, or sometimes painfully, call us back to ourselves and back to God.


They ask us:


Are you willing to trust?


Are you willing to listen?


Are you willing to become who you were created to be?


Today, my answer is yes.


I know now, with a certainty I have never felt before, that my purpose is to help people reconnect with God through therapy.


To create a space where emotional healing and spiritual healing are welcomed together.


To support those who long for deeper meaning, greater peace, and a closer relationship with God.


Something about this decision feels so aligned that the fear which once consumed me no longer has the same hold.


Peace has replaced it.


Clarity has replaced it.


Purpose has replaced it.


Over the coming days, I will be updating my website to reflect this new chapter, one that feels less like a change and more like a homecoming.


Because I no longer wish to live according to the tide.


I want to live according to truth.


And perhaps that is what courage really is.


Not the absence of fear, but the willingness to trust God more than we trust our doubts.


Thank you, sweet Star, for being my guiding light.


You have taught me a lesson I will never forget.


I am sorry that you were injured for me to learn what I needed to learn.


And I pray that your suffering will not be in vain, but that through it, I may finally step into the purpose God has been calling me towards all along.


Sometimes the greatest rewards are found not by following the tide, but by having the faith to swim against it.


And perhaps, in doing so, we finally find our way home.

 
 
 

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