Lately, I’ve found myself looking back more often than usual.
Not because I miss the past, and certainly not because I want to relive the difficult seasons. It’s simply that every now and then, I stop and think about where I was a few years ago compared to where I am today. Whenever I do that, I become overwhelmed with gratitude.
Sometimes I even cry.
They’re not tears of sadness or regret. They’re not tears because life is hard or because I’m feeling hopeless. They’re tears that come from seeing God’s goodness in a way I couldn’t see before.
The more I think about what God has done in my life, the more thankful I become. I’m still amazed by His unfailing love. I know people often say that God is faithful, but when you’ve experienced His faithfulness personally, those words become much more than something you’ve heard in church. They become your story.
That’s how I feel these days.
I don’t have a perfect life. I still face challenges. I still have moments when I don’t understand what God is doing. But I also have something I didn’t have before. I have a history with Him.
I can look back and remember all the times He carried me when I thought I couldn’t take another step.
Sometimes, while I’m thanking Him for everything He’s already done, I get this quiet feeling in my heart. It’s difficult to explain, but it’s almost as if my Papa in Heaven is smiling and saying, “This is only the beginning. Let Me show you what is still to come. You haven’t seen everything I have prepared for you yet.”
Every time I sense that, my heart fills with hope.
It reminds me that God never stops writing our story.
When I think about my journey, I realize there were so many moments when I didn’t make it easy for Him.
I worried.
I complained.
I became discouraged.
Whenever something unexpected happened, especially the unpleasant kind, I immediately started asking questions.
“Lord, why is this happening?”
“What am I supposed to do now?”
“How am I going to get through this?”
Instead of looking at Him, I looked at the problem.
If I’m honest, I became really good at staring at mountains.
I could spend hours thinking about every possible outcome, every worst-case scenario, every reason why something wouldn’t work. Looking back now, I realize I was giving more attention to my fears than to the God who was standing right beside me.
Isn’t that interesting?
The mountain never asked for my attention.
I gave it my attention.
Meanwhile, God patiently waited for me to look back at Him.
What amazes me is that He never became impatient with me.
He didn’t say, “Again? You’re worrying about this again?”
He didn’t shame me for struggling.
Instead, He gently drew my heart back to Him.
That’s why I love calling Him my Papa.
When I say “Papa,” I don’t mean someone distant or unapproachable. I picture a loving Father who opens His arms to His child before the child even realizes how much those arms are needed.
That’s exactly how God has been with me.
Even when I wandered into worry.
Even when I allowed anxiety to fill my mind.
Even when I spent more time complaining than sitting with my Papa.
His arms remained open.
There were seasons when the challenges in front of me looked impossible.
I remember staring at situations that made absolutely no sense. I couldn’t see a solution. I couldn’t see a way forward. The more I thought about them, the heavier they became.
Have you ever noticed how problems seem to grow when we keep looking at them?
Mine certainly did.
I would lie awake at night trying to solve everything in my mind. By morning, I was already exhausted, and the day hadn’t even started yet.
I kept thinking that if I worried enough, maybe I would eventually come up with an answer.
I never did.
Instead, I only became more anxious.
There were days when I shared my heart with my Papa, but deep inside, I had already convinced myself that I needed to figure everything out on my own.
It sounds strange now, but that’s exactly what I was doing.
I was asking God for help while secretly trying to carry everything on my own shoulders.
No wonder I was tired.
Then something would happen.
Usually, it happened after I reached the end of myself.
After I had run out of ideas.
After I had cried enough tears.
After I admitted that I couldn’t fix it.
I would finally surrender.
And almost every time, I would begin to see God moving in ways I hadn’t noticed before.
Looking back now, I don’t think He suddenly started working when I surrendered.
I think He had been working all along.
The difference was that I finally stopped staring at the problem long enough to notice His hand.
That realization changed something in me.
It made me wonder how many times God was quietly arranging things behind the scenes while I was convinced that nothing was happening.
I imagine Him gently smiling, knowing the ending while I was still panicking in the middle of the story.
There was actually a season in my life when I expected God to do something every single day.
I miss that version of myself sometimes.
Every morning, I’d wake up excited.
Before I even got out of bed, I’d wonder what my Papa was going to do that day.
Would He answer a prayer?
Would He surprise me?
Would He open a new door?
Would He teach me something?
I wasn’t focused on the challenges waiting for me.
I was focused on Him.
That made all the difference.
The problems didn’t disappear, but they didn’t feel as frightening because I believed I wouldn’t face them alone.
Somewhere along the journey, though, I slowly lost that expectation.
Life became busy.
Responsibilities increased.
Unexpected situations piled up.
Little by little, I started treating every challenge as though it belonged to me.
Without realizing it, I stopped saying, “Lord, this is Yours.”
Instead, I started saying, “I have to figure this out.”
I don’t know exactly when that happened.
I just know that one day I realized I was carrying burdens that God had never asked me to carry.
The beautiful thing is that He didn’t leave me there.
He reminded me.
Not through guilt.
Not through disappointment.
But through His kindness.
Every answered prayer reminded me.
Every unexpected provision reminded me.
Every impossible situation He brought me through reminded me.
Slowly, He helped me remember who had been carrying me all along.
Psalm 91 has become one of the most precious chapters in the Bible for me.
Years ago, I would read it because I wanted protection.
Now I read it because it reminds me where I belong.
“Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.”
That word “rest” touches my heart every time.
For so long, I wasn’t resting.
I was striving.
I was worrying.
I was trying to stay one step ahead of every possible problem.
Rest felt almost impossible because I believed everything depended on me.
But that’s never what God asked of me.
He invited me to stay close to Him.
To dwell.
To remain.
To rest.
Then verse 4 paints such a beautiful picture.
“He will cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you will find refuge; His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.”
Whenever I read those words, I immediately picture myself as a little child running into my Papa’s embrace.
Safe.
Protected.
Completely loved.
That’s how I see Him now.
Not because life is easy.
But because I’ve experienced His heart.
One thing I’ve come to appreciate is that God never wasted any part of my journey.
There were times when I thought I had wasted years because I worried too much.
I thought my stubbornness had delayed everything.
Maybe it did in some ways.
But even then, God redeemed those seasons.
He used them to teach me.
He used them to shape my heart.
He showed me His patience over and over again.
Sometimes I think He was far more patient with me than I was with myself.
That’s such a comforting thought.
He wasn’t measuring me by how quickly I learned.
He simply kept loving me.
One memory keeps coming back to me lately.
Years ago, when I felt completely hopeless and didn’t know how to move forward, God quietly brought a verse into my heart.
Hebrews 11:40.
“Since God had planned something better for us…”
At the time, I didn’t fully understand it.
Honestly, I just held onto the words because I needed hope.
I remember thinking, “Lord, if You say You have something better, then I’ll believe You, even if I can’t see it.”
Looking back now, I can honestly say He was telling the truth.
He really did have something better.
Not necessarily easier.
Not exactly what I had imagined.
But better.
Because along the way, I came to know Him more deeply.
If everything had happened according to my plans, I wonder if I would have learned to trust Him the way I do today.
Probably not.
Sometimes I think we only recognize God’s fingerprints after we’ve walked far enough to turn around and see the path behind us.
That’s exactly how I feel today.
When I look back, I don’t just see difficult seasons.
I see His hands.
I see Him gently closing doors that I desperately wanted to open.
I see Him protecting me from things I didn’t understand at the time.
I see Him providing in unexpected ways.
I see Him sending encouragement at exactly the right moment.
I see Him carrying me through days when I barely had enough strength to keep going.
Most of all, I see His incredible patience.
He waited for me.
He kept reaching out His hand.
He never walked away because I was slow to trust.
He simply stayed close.
I’m so thankful that one day I reached back and took His hand.
Actually, when I think about it, He’s probably been holding mine the whole time.
These days, my conversations with my Papa are different.
I still ask Him for help.
I still bring Him my concerns.
I still have questions.
But there’s less panic.
There’s more peace.
Not because I know what’s coming tomorrow, but because I know the One who already does.
That’s enough for me.
I’ve also realized something else.
When I was younger in my faith, I often measured God’s presence by how easy life felt.
Now I measure it differently.
I see Him in the peace He gives me in the middle of uncertainty.
I see Him in the strength to keep going when I thought I couldn’t.
I see Him in the quiet reminders that I’m never walking alone.
Those things have become precious to me.
If someone had told me years ago that one day I’d actually be thankful for some of the hardest seasons of my life, I probably wouldn’t have believed them.
But here I am.
Not because the struggles were enjoyable.
They weren’t.
But because I met God in those places in a way I never had before.
Some of my sweetest memories with Him came from seasons I never would have chosen.
I wouldn’t go back and relive them.
But I also wouldn’t erase them.
They became part of the story He used to show me His heart.
Today, when I think about everything He’s done, I can’t help but smile.
I’m grateful for every answered prayer.
I’m grateful for every delayed answer that turned out to be a better one.
I’m grateful for the closed doors that protected me.
I’m grateful for the open doors I never expected.
Most of all, I’m grateful that I know Him as my Papa.
Not a distant God watching from heaven.
Not someone I only turn to when life becomes difficult.
But my loving Father, who knows me completely and loves me anyway.
I know I’m under His wings.
I know He cares about every detail of my life.
Not just the big things, but the little things too.
He cares about the people I love.
He cares about the things that concern me.
Nothing is too small to bring before Him.
As I write this, I don’t know what the next chapter of my story will look like.
Maybe there will be more mountains.
Maybe there will be more waiting.
Maybe there will be unexpected blessings that I can’t even imagine yet.
Whatever comes, I know this much.
When I look back again a few years from now, I have a feeling I’ll see His hands all over that chapter too.
Because that’s who He has always been.
Faithful.
Patient.
Gentle.
Always present.
And if there’s one thing my journey has taught me, it’s this: even when I couldn’t see Him, my Papa never stopped caring for me.
He was there in every tear, every moment I poured out my heart to Him, every delay, every victory, and every quiet moment in between.
Looking back now, I can finally see what I couldn’t see then.
His hands were never far from mine.
They were carrying me all along.