When Life Feels Heavy and God Feels Close

Category: Faith and Everyday Life

Some days you wake up and there’s just a quiet hum of heaviness in your spirit. Not despair. Not defeat. Just… humdrum. Down, but not out. Today is one of those days.

Last week was a whirlwind. A harried, prayer-filled, emotionally exhausting week. Our son Josiah, who lives with an autoimmune illness, had a terrible flare. He was down for nearly the whole week, and all a mother can do is pray and hover and plead with God. Yes, I know—some would say that worry is the opposite of faith. But I believe God knows a mother’s heart. When worry rises, it doesn’t mean we doubt Him. It means we love deeply. After all, didn’t He create us that way?

I often think of Mary. Not just as the mother of our Lord, but as a woman. A mother. Do we really think she was cheerful and carefree when she saw her son rejected, slandered, bruised, and beaten before the cross? Of course not. Her heart ached. And God saw it. He crafted it. Her worry wasn’t faithless—it was love wearing skin.

“Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.” (Mark 9:24)

That verse became my prayer last week. The tension of two truths held together: belief and fear. Trust and trembling. And the Lord didn’t cast me out for praying it. He drew near.

When It Rains, It Pours

As if Josiah’s illness wasn’t enough, my husband, Ron—my strong, steady companion of over 37 years—had his arthritis flare to the point it felt like starting all over again. The inflammation took hold with such force that it shook me. He looked frailer. And that did something to me. I wasn’t ready to see him that way. My hero still lives in that body, but sometimes, I admit, it’s hard to watch time and pain take its toll.

Then Sunday, our youngest, Simmie, came down with something. A migraine. General misery. He just didn’t feel right. And my heart… well, it’s worn on the outside. That’s how God made mothers. Our hearts walk around in the bodies of our children.

Thankfully, Josiah is himself again—grinning, loving, full of light. Simmie’s almost back to normal. Ron, well… that’s a journey we’re still on. But in all of it, I can say: God was with us. Every day. Every moment. Every prayer. Even when I was too tired to finish them.

Faith Doesn’t Mean You’re Always Fine

Too often, we confuse faith with cheerfulness. But real faith sometimes weeps. It trembles. It whispers, “I trust You, Lord—but I’m scared. Please understand.”

I’ve never been one to easily share my most vulnerable thoughts. A hard childhood will do that. But I trust God with them. He has never betrayed that trust. Not once.

“For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses…” (Hebrews 4:15)

This is the beauty of faith: it doesn’t require us to be perfect. Just honest. And in that honesty, God meets us. He’s not looking for polished prayers or spotless hearts. He’s looking for surrendered ones. Willing hearts that trust Him—even while trembling.

God Walks With Us Through the Weight

I look back on last week and see how heavy it felt at the time. And yet now, in the rearview mirror, I can say… it was bearable because God was with us. Others may be facing even harder storms, and for them I offer this comfort: the Lord never leaves. Not in your humdrum days. Not in the heartbreaking ones. Not ever.

“Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you.” (Isaiah 46:4)

So if you’re weary today, let this be your reminder. You don’t need to be all together to come to God. You just need to come. With your worries. With your heart worn thin. With your honest whisper: “Help my unbelief.” And He will.

With love and gratitude,
A fellow sinner walking by faith