I love a good plan.
A timeline.
A tidy little beginning–middle–end story arc where everything heals on schedule and I get to feel productive about it.
This season did not RSVP to that plan.
I’m dealing with autoimmune issues right now, most likely thanks to taking round after round of antibiotics for an infection I never even had. Fun twist: turns out I didn’t have an infection at all — I just bruised my kidneys in a car accident. So yes, misdiagnosis, medicine overload, and now my immune system is out here freelancing.
10/10 experience. Would not recommend.
My body hurts. Everything I eat inflames me. And there is no button to push that says “expedite healing, please.” No hack. No shortcut. No cute productivity system.
Just… time.
Which is rude.
And the truth is, worrying about it doesn’t help. Overthinking it doesn’t heal me faster. Spiraling about timelines doesn’t magically regenerate organs. It just steals joy from today — quietly, efficiently, and without asking permission.
And I’m done donating joy to anxiety.
Katherine Mansfield said it perfectly:
“Everything in life that we really accept undergoes a change.”
Not what we fight.
Not what we resent.
Not what we obsess over.
What we accept.
So today, I’m practicing surrender.
Not the dramatic kind.
Not the “give up on life and lie on the floor” kind.
The soft kind.
The holy kind.
The quiet kind.
The kind that says:
Okay. This is what is.
This is the body I’m in today.
This is the season I’m walking through.
This is the pace of healing.
And I stop trying to argue with reality.
Spiritually, it looks like this:
Hands up.
Control down.
Ego seated.
Expectations released.
“You are enough, God.
This thorn I carry is mine.
Okay. Here I am, Lord.
Use me.”
Not when I’m better.
Not when I’m stronger.
Not when I’m fixed.
Not when the story is prettier.
Now.
Because surrender isn’t quitting — it’s trusting.
Acceptance isn’t weakness — it’s wisdom.
And healing doesn’t start when the situation changes…
it starts when the posture does.
So today, I’m letting go of the struggle.
Letting the healing process begin.
Letting God hold what I keep trying to micromanage.
And choosing peace over panic.
Presence over pressure.
Faith over force.
Soft. Surrendered.
Still standing. Still believing. Still becoming.
–Sam
