There are moments in life that deserve to be marked with more than a calendar reminder. Moments where we pause, look back at the valleys we have crossed, and give thanks for the victories God has led us through and the people who have walked beside us.

Today holds such a moment for me.

Today is holy ground.

Seven years ago, the weight was heavy and the thoughts were loud.

Today, I stand here breathing, believing, still becoming. This is not a small milestone.

This is resurrection lived out in ordinary days.

This is grace that stayed when the night felt endless.

This is God who did not let me go.

I was honoured to gather with those who have stood beside me, prayed for me, encouraged me, and helped me remember who I was when the battle felt long. I truly appreciate sharing life with these people and could not have navigated this journey without their loving support. Their presence is a living reminder that God often answers prayers through people who stay.

What I carry now is not just a testimony, it is stewardship. I am living proof that despair does not get the final word. I am not defined by what almost took me, I am shaped by Who carried me through. This is the quiet authority of lived healing, the kind that does not shout, yet changes rooms.

I honour the woman who stayed when she had nothing left to give. I honour the days when staying was the bravest prayer I could pray. I honour the God who met me in the dark and slowly, faithfully, led me back into the light. What once felt like survival has become service. What once felt like brokenness has become a place of compassion. The scars remain, not as shame, but as sacred markers of mercy.

As I lay me down to rest tonight, my heart is full. My birthday tomorrow is no longer a day I dread, but one that has been graciously redeemed by my Father. He has been there all along, even when I could not see Him or feel His presence. What once held fear now holds gratitude. What once marked pain now bears witness to His faithfulness.

Seven years alive means I now walk gently with others who are still finding their way through the night. It means I steward hope with humility. It means I speak life where death once whispered. It means I remember that healing is not a finish line, it is a faithful companionship with God, one ordinary, grace-filled day at a time.

💡Reflection:

• Where has God sustained me when I thought I would not make it through 🤔

• Who has God placed beside me as living answers to prayer 🤔

• What does it look like for me to steward hope, not perform healing 🤔

• In what ways am I honouring the version of me who survived 🤔

🎺Affirmation:

I am alive by the mercy of God. My life is held, my story is redeemed, and my presence carries hope. What God has healed in me becomes a quiet refuge for others, and despair will never have the final word over my life.

🙌 Prayer:

Faithful God, thank You for holding me when I could not hold myself. Thank You for staying through the long nights and the silent battles, and for the people You placed beside me when I needed strength beyond my own. Teach me to steward this restored life with humility, compassion, and courage. Let my story bring safety, not pressure, and hope, not performance. Use every healed place in me for Your glory and the good of others.

In Jesus’ Name, Amen.