This picture holds a story familiar to every woman that’s navigating the duality of life’s hills and valleys. Whether you live in the U. S, the Caribbean, Canada, Europe, Mexico or the continent of Africa, you have been there. It captures something sacred: the holy tension of holding both joy and sorrow, faith and fear, strength and surrender, all at once.
There are seasons when life doesn’t fit neatly into joy or sorrow. There are seasons when life won’t let you choose one emotion. You laugh while your heart aches. You celebrate with a lump in your throat. You pray while panic breathes down your neck. And yet, somehow, through trembling hands and tearful prayers, you find a way to show up. This tension is not weakness it’s the essence of womanhood. It’s courage in motion. It’s faith in action.
Last Saturday night, I found myself standing in that tension. My baby sister was fighting for her life in New York, while here in the Midwest a celebration awaited-a room drenched in beauty, love and gratitude, honoring my husband and our family for ten years of faithful Pastoral service. The world was swirling with contrast: one space pulsing with applause, the other echoing with intensive care unit monitors.
I wrestled hard. The questions flooded my mind. They made me restless anxious.
How do you celebrate when your soul is breaking? How do you dance when you can barely stand?
How do you stand in faith when fear is relentless and loud?
And then I heard her; my sister’s spirit, full of that radiant Shaunette energy, whispering, “Sissy, go. Live. Love. Laugh. Don’t let fear rob you of love’s moment.”
So I did.
Trembling.
Praying.
Breathing.
But I went.
And God met me there.
The room held light and laughter, but also grace for tears. There was no pretending, just pure presence. Linwood radiated warmth that night, not the kind that denies pain, but the kind that holds it gently and says, “You’re safe here.” I felt the Spirit settle in the space between the laughter and the lumps in our throats.
Grief sat beside joy, and somehow, both were welcome.
Every time fear tried to rise, I yelled back with faith: “She shall live and not die.”That became my heartbeat and my declaration of faith. That was warfare. That was worship. Because faith is not the absence of fear, it’s the decision to move anyway, believing that God is still good.
That night, I didn’t just talk about faith, I practiced it. I built capacity. I experienced the tension of building resilience. I’ve learned that;
– You can be heartbroken and still hopeful.
– You can be scared and still strong.
– You can be shaken and still called.
Once again I was reminded that sometimes, the miracle isn’t that the storm stops, it’s that you learn how to face it without crumbing or hiding.
Linwood showed me that community is where weary hearts come to rest. That love and presence can heal what words can’t. That even sorrow and celebration can hold hands.
So, to every woman reading this, wherever you are, you are not alone!
I see you and I hold space for you. Maybe you’re in between healing and heartbreak, between motherhood and burnout, between your calling and your own exhaustion, between being “strong for everyone” and wanting to finally fall apart. Maybe you’re holding your faith in one hand and your fear in the other. And you don’t know how to carry them both anymore, remember, you are not failing you are being forged.
Take heart, be encouraged, hear this: You can! Just keep showing up. The Word reassures us,
“We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.”- 2 Corinthians 4:8–9
God says, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in your weakness.” – 2 Corinthians 12:9
So right here in the messy in- between, you are powerful. You don’t have to wait until you feel brave to be powerful. You don’t have to wait until you have peace to take a step forward. You don’t have to wait until the fear disappears to live your life out loud.
This Women’s History Month, may we remember:
Our power is not in perfection, it’s in perseverance.
It’s in walking with the fear, not waiting for it to leave. It’s in showing up in the tension, letting grace do what strength alone never could. So keep standing in the in‑between.
Keep walking when it’s blurry, keep believing when it hurts, keep living when your heart is still healing. Because as long as there is breath, there is purpose. As long as there is purpose, there is power.
My Sister, even in the tension, you are still enough. Even in your weakness, You are still powerful.
You are still becoming everything God called you to be.
