strength training

I see you writing a story. The brokenness

is giving you a lot to work with, I can sense.

That’s okay. At least it can serve a purpose this way.

Each session I build a little more strength, slowly

we will make our way back together.

In between the beating of these three small hearts,

I missed out on the one within my chest – fast.

You found me on the tile floor, tears down my pink cheeks.


Slow, my Annie.


I see you writing a story. The brokenness

Is healing the hollow spaces – slowly.

Stubborn strides striking spirits.

The process brings me back to you.

The foreheads I kiss at night

may be my saving grace – your gift.

You found me as I laid next to those beating hearts at



Slow, my Annie.


I see you writing a story- the outlines

Define them! Father!

Guide this rebellious spirit within me-

to build all the strength I need and

then rest in yours.

Find me on my knees, on the tile, with my heart

fervently beating.

Slowly, I come to you.


My husband and I are currently training for a race in early summer, and it’s been tough. Not just because it’s tough to train for an event, but with three kids and postpartum energy levels, it’s been very challenging for me. I’m always eager for the end result, the final product.

This past week during a weight training session, I stopped and considered how this process of training is so similar to what is going on within my spirit. Feelings of brokenness and starting again. I am a stubborn woman, who is highly idealistic. I easily become entangled in ideas of control and what feels good for me. How can I manage my life with the least amount of chaos? What feels the best? It’s not an unholy pursuit, per se – but always ALWAYS leads me down a rebellious, broken road. I end up feeling hollow and distanced from the one thing I need most – God.

It’s as if my earthly pursuit of peace and control can even compare to His supernatural promises of these gifts.

It comes down to sitting with ill feelings sometimes, waiting it out for the peace to flood in — or for it to not flood in, but trusting all the same that God has better plans. It’s about giving up ideals and what things “should” be like and embracing the feelings of vulnerability within my body and spirit and BELIEVING it will serve a purpose.

I’m slowly coming back, trying to pay more attention to the process and not the end result. Living without lines, boundaries, and definitions.

Who am I? Who are you making me to be?

I’m thankful that brokenness is the perfect opportunity for a story to be written. A beautiful story of redemption and grace and divine provision.

Slowly, I am getting there.



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