Mommy Finger, Baby Finger

Last weekend, I went for a hike by myself. My daughter had planned to come along, but when she couldn’t get up that morning, I decided to go anyway. It turned out to be exactly what I needed.

With no conversation to fill the air, I was able to hear from God in a way I may have missed otherwise. When my daughter’s with me, I love our talks, but the quiet space on this hike gave me something different: clarity. And in that stillness, He reminded me of something important: I don’t need to defend my side of the story. Lately, family drama has stirred things up, and I was shown on that trail that sometimes the wisest and strongest choice is let go of the need for the last word, and to protect your peace.

Loud people often think that raising their voice makes their point stronger. They confuse volume with validity. And they see silence as weakness. I know there are things I could say that might hurt others, but instead I’ve chosen to obey God and stay silent. Choosing not to react, not to match someone’s anger with your own, is a kind of power they don’t expect. It means your peace matters more than proving a point. It means your clarity, your sound mind, and your trust in God’s timing are stronger than any argument. As Exodus 14:14 says: “The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”

As I hiked further up the trail, the silence got even louder when I came across two different paths. One was flatter, easier. The other was higher and more demanding. Deep down, I knew the harder climb was the one I needed to take. So, I pushed forward. At times, I had to stop and catch my breath. And in those pauses, the Lord reminded me how necessary it is to do the same in life — to pause, to gather strength before continuing the climb.

I’ll be honest, I prayed and asked Him to meet me and carry me. As I looked up and the trail rose higher and higher, fear began to creep in. The thought hit me: “What about coming back down?” But even in that fear, I felt His presence steady me. He reminded me that I wasn’t truly walking the trail by myself, and I had Him. And when it was finally time to go down, I felt like I was flying freely. I couldn’t stop smiling and singing, “You take what the enemy meant for evil, and You turn it for good.”

It struck me then how often I fear the climb because I’m worried about the fall. But that day God reminded me: even if you fall, you’ll rise again. Just like the Maya Angelou tattoo on my back says: “Still I rise.” And, this morning, dropping my daughter off at school, I saw a girl fall off her scooter on the way in. Her mom was right there to pick her up and help her back on. The little girl slowed down on her scooter, but she kept going. My daughter looked over at me, and I smiled as I told her, “Even if you fall today, make sure you get up.” She smiled back and said, “Ok, I love you, Mom.” No matter the climb, no matter the fall, God’s grace is there to steady us — and we rise, stronger, clearer, together, and grounded.

Here’s to the women discovering the power of silence, even in the noise, and strength in the fall.

With love,
Jeannette | @_mujerdepalabras