Held

The Story

Some memories become turning points.

I was nineteen years old, sitting in a treatment center, overwhelmed by fear and uncertainty.  I was a single mother with a one-year-old son, convinced I had made a mess of my life and unsure what tomorrow looked like.

Years earlier, after losing my mom at ten years old, I had turned away from God.  I was angry. Angry that He had taken her from me, and over time my heart quietly drifted away.

But that night, I didn't know where else to turn.

Lying in my bed, I simply asked God to help.  As I cried, something happened that I have never forgotten.

It felt as though my head was resting in God's lap, while His hand gently held my face.  I could feel His warmth.  His peace. His presence.

Nothing around me changed.

But everything inside me had changed.

For the first time in years, I knew...

we were going to be okay.

Not just me.

My son and I.

Today, I look back on that night with very different tears.  They are no longer tears of fear, but of gratitude. That little boy grew into an incredible man and one of my greatest blessings.  Looking back, I can see God's faithfulness wove through every chapter of our story.

Held is my attempt to paint a moment that words could never fully describe - a reminder that even in our deepest brokenness, we are never beyond His reach.

Looking back now, I know that night wasn't the end of my story. It was the beginning of the life God was writing all along.

Reflection

Sometimes we don't recognize God's faithfulness until we look back and see where He has carried us.

This painting is a reminder that hope often begins with a single prayer, and that His hand has been holding us all along.

Scripture

"Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."  ~ Isaiah 41:10