Proverbs 21:1
The king’s heart is in the hand of the Lord, like the rivers of water; He turns it wherever He wishes.
There are moments in my life lately when it feels like everything is spiraling beyond my grasp. People in power—judges, doctors, caseworkers, exes—seem to make decisions that crush my soul and steal my peace. There’s injustice. There’s heartache. There’s silence. There’s abuse. There’s second-guessing. There’s uncertainty.
And still, somehow, God whispers “I AM sovereign.”
This verse isn’t just about kings. It’s about control—both surrendering it and reclaiming it. It’s about where my hope belongs, and where my children’s hope belongs. It’s about unseen hands that still shift what feels unshiftable.
Throughout my story—from the chains of loss, addiction, and recovery… from generational control and trauma disguised as faith… from courtrooms and CPS reports and every slammed door—I’ve cried out:
Where are You, God? I can’t hear You. I can’t feel You. I can’t see You in this mess.
But today, over lunch, a very special woman in my life – my dear friend reminded me: He is with me. He knows my needs and has never left me without.
She said while talking with me proverbs 21:1 came to her mind, and it Made me meditate and reflect.
That verse tells me this:
That my sovereign God is turning hearts. Softening hardened soil. Writing justice into places I cannot yet see.
Proverbs 19:21
Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.
That means the evil trying to break me is not the end—no matter how final it feels.
The power they think they hold? It was NEVER theirs.
Even when it feels like hell is winning, God’s purpose will still prevail.
So… maybe it’s time I start really reframing my pain.
What if the delays aren’t denials, like my fears try to convince me…
but divine redirection, because God knows what I don’t?
And what if the pain isn’t punishment…
but preparation for the next season I haven’t stepped into yet?
Romans 8:28
And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.
I’ve seen small glimpses of that goodness.
In the way my children are slowly learning to trust again.
In healing that shows up on soccer fields and in therapy rooms.
In the stubborn faith that refuses to die—even when I can’t see past the crisis in my living room… or the next court date.
I was reminded today: I am not powerless.
Even in my world where lately the trauma shouts louder than the truth – that God is still turning rivers.
God, You know what I’ve endured. And what my children have endured.
You saw the rooms I was locked out of.
You saw the manipulation and abuses dressed as love.
You saw the countless doors shut in our faces, the sleepless nights, the exhaustion, the fear.
You know the truth—even when the courtroom says it doesn’t matter.
Your Word says You turn hearts.
So turn the judge’s heart.
Turn the investigator’s heart.
Turn my children’s hearts back toward healing.
And turn mine—away from the bitterness I still carry, and back toward trusting You.
And God—please hear this too:
Sometimes I’m torn.
Between what I know in my spirit and what I feel in my chest.
Between Your sovereignty and the reality we’re living in.
I fear, even while I believe.
But that doesn’t make me weak—it makes me human.
It doesn’t mean I’ve lost faith—just that sometimes I’m fighting a little bitnharder to hang on to it.
Still, I’m learning:
Even when I’m trembling, Your mercy reaches.
Even when I’m drowning, You are near.
It’s hard sometimes to choose the supernatural when the natural is screaming.
Hard to declare promises when everything is breaking around me.
But still—I return. Again and again.
Because something in me still believes You are not finished.
And I KNOW that Your love NEVER fails.
Let my story glorify You—not because it’s neat or pretty—
but because You were there through every shattered piece, and your still standing in our storm.
I don’t want to just survive this.
I want my life to testify that God restores.
That He sees. That He lifts the lowly.
That He deals with the wicked—in His time.
What a relief to know: I don’t have to!
I’m learning to cling to Your sovereignty like a lifeline.
And even now—through courtrooms and chaos, trauma and terror—
I’ll say with faith, even when trembling:
The King’s heart is in Your hands, Lord.
And so is mine.
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Letters From the Edge 