Not long ago we observed Remembrance Day here in Canada, but a few days later I experienced a different kind of remembering—one that reached into a season of my life I had almost tucked away.
It began like any ordinary morning: curled up in my Living Room Lazy-Boy with a warm cup of coffee and my red iPad in my lap. I scrolled through social media and landed on a favorite blog post that stopped me in my tracks.
Karianne, the home decor blogger I’ve followed for years, had written the post I’d quietly been waiting for: a final walk through her beloved Kentucky home as she prepared to move to Texas. Her words were so vivid I felt like I was standing beside her, and tears came that I couldn’t hold back.
Reading her goodbye reminded me of my own farewell to a house I’d poured my heart into. That goodbye wasn’t merely about paint colors or open kitchen shelves. It was part of the hardest chapter of my life—one marked by uncertainty, fear, and a future that felt frighteningly unknown.
For a season I lived with panic attacks that visited weekly, sometimes daily. Nights were long and sleepless as my husband gently talked me through a racing heart, numb arms, shallow breaths, and thoughts that didn’t make sense. I was terrified and felt overwhelmingly alone at times.
Many readers have told me they recognize that place of fear; it isn’t uncommon to face such valleys. What surprised me most was how stepping out of that old house for the last time felt like a relief. Leaving the familiar, even when your heart is breaking, can be the beginning of a miracle.
A few days later at our weekly Bible study, our conversation turned to Joshua 1–4—the story of the Israelites crossing the Jordan and setting foot in the promised land. We imagined the priests standing on the dry riverbank, exhausted from holding the heavy ark, and then we arrived at the stones of remembrance.
God instructed Joshua to have twelve stones taken from the riverbed and set up as a monument—so future generations could look and remember what God had done. Remembering is a repeated theme in Scripture because recalling God’s faithfulness strengthens our faith when we face fresh uncertainty.
When I remember that season, my heart still aches, but the ache is accompanied by gratitude. I remember the faithful friends who prayed, called, visited, and gave sacrificially. Not everyone walks beside you in the valley; I am thankful for those who did.
I remember sitting on a bench overlooking the ocean on my birthday, wrestling with a dark thought of ending my life. In that moment God nudged me, persistent and gentle, and dislodged that idea from my foggy mind. He was there, and I remember His presence.
I also remember discovering what helped calm my panic: simplicity. I returned to two truths learned as a child—“Jesus loves me” and “He is with me.” Repeating those truths became my anchor when my thoughts were chaotic and my body felt overwhelmed.
As we took one day at a time, God cleared the fog and provided for our needs. He opened doors to work, gave us a peaceful “in-between” rental where we could rest and regroup, and eventually provided the sweet townhouse we live in now. He wiped away tears I thought would never end.
Sitting recently on a friend’s comfortable living room couch, I suddenly remembered a small, meaningful object I had almost forgotten: my own stone of remembrance. It sits outside our front door. I pass it every time I go in or out, and its presence quietly reminds me of God’s care.
A sweet woman gave me that stone when she could see our life was changing. I don’t recall her exact words, but she said it was meant to remind me that God had a special plan for our future—something beautiful ahead even if I couldn’t see it then. Now, looking back, I can see how that promise unfolded.
Just as God directed the Israelites to set up stones so they would remember His work, that little stone reminds me to recall His faithfulness: the jobs He provided, the homes that sheltered us, the friends who stayed, and the quiet assurances He gave when my thoughts were swirling.
Remembering how God met me in the darkest days gives me courage for today and hope for tomorrow. Those memories are not mere nostalgia; they are proof that He is still in the business of miracles and that He will provide what we need to do what He asks of us.
As I photographed our Living and Dining Room Christmas decor, the theme of remembering and God’s presence felt natural to pair with the season. Christmas celebrates Jesus coming to be with us—His presence is the comfort I found then and continue to rely on now.
If you are walking through a dark season, please know this: you are loved and not alone. Hold on to Him. Remember the ways you have been sustained before, however small, and let those memories strengthen you as you move forward.
