The Soft Power Journal

Tag: Surrender

  • Ease Is the Lesson Now: Softening After Survival

    Ease Is the Lesson Now: Softening After Survival

    There comes a point in your healing journey where you stop asking, “How much more do I have to endure?” and instead whisper, “What if it doesn’t have to be hard anymore?”

    For so long, survival was the only way we knew how to live. We pushed, hustled, stayed hyper-vigilant. We braced for the fall even when things were good. Our nervous systems memorized tension like a second skin. And ease? It felt suspicious. Foreign. Undeserved.

    But ease is not a reward—it’s a birthright.

    Softening after survival isn’t about pretending the past didn’t shape you. It’s about choosing not to let it harden you. It’s about unlearning the urgency, the constant self-monitoring, the “I’ll rest when it’s done” mentality. It’s about giving yourself permission to breathe, to not explain, to just be.

    This season is calling you to release the identity of the struggler.

    The one who made it work no matter what.

    The one who carried it all because there was no one else.

    The one who never asked for help because help never came.

    But now… you get to choose differently.

    You get to ask yourself:

    ✨ What would it feel like to trust the timing?

    ✨ What if you didn’t make things harder to prove you’re worthy of the good?

    ✨ What if peace is what you’re meant to carry now—not pressure?

    You don’t have to be in crisis to deserve your softness. You don’t have to earn gentleness through pain. You are allowed to be at ease. To flow. To move with grace. To live a life that feels light on your nervous system and rich in your spirit.

    This month, let ease be your devotion.

    Let peace be your power.

    Let rest be your quiet revolution.

    Because softness isn’t a step back.

    It’s the most sacred step forward.

    You don’t have to explain why you’re choosing ease. You just have to honor it. For more soft, grounded reminders like this, stay close to The Soft Power Journal—where power and peace are allowed to coexist.

  • Surrendering the Plan: Learning to Trust God in Real Time

    Surrendering the Plan: Learning to Trust God in Real Time

    Let me be honest—

    I love a good plan. A five-step strategy. A mapped-out vision with bullet points and backup routes.

    I love knowing what’s coming.

    It makes me feel safe.

    But lately?

    God hasn’t been giving me a plan.

    He’s been giving me moments.

    Moments that stretch me, quiet me, reroute me, and ask me to trust without clarity.

    And trusting God in real time?

    It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to learn.

    Real-time trust doesn’t come with a roadmap.

    It comes with a whisper: “Are you willing to move before it all makes sense?”

    It comes with blank pages, canceled plans, and doors you thought were yours slamming shut.

    It comes with you looking around, asking:

    “God, I thought I was ready. Why does this feel like falling apart instead of falling into place?”

    But what I’m learning is this:

    Trust isn’t built when everything is going right. It’s built in the silence between what you prayed for and what hasn’t shown up yet.

    I had to learn that surrender doesn’t mean giving up—it means letting go of my way.

    Letting go of the fantasy timeline.

    Letting go of the need to control the outcome.

    Letting go of my obsession with being “prepared enough.”

    Because sometimes, God doesn’t want your preparation—He wants your presence.

    He wants your obedience in the uncertainty.

    He wants your yes even when you’re trembling.

    Here’s what learning to trust God in real time has looked like for me:

    Saying yes to opportunities I didn’t feel fully ready for

    Leaving spaces I prayed to enter, because I no longer belonged there

    Pausing projects that used to bring me life, because they were now draining me

    Listening more, striving less

    Being okay with not being “on fire” but still being faithful

    I’ve had to stop asking for a five-year vision and start asking for today’s instructions.

    If you’re in this space—where nothing looks clear but you know you’re being called to trust—try this:

    1. Start your day with surrender.

    Before the to-do list. Before the scroll.

    Say: “God, interrupt my plan if You need to. I trust You more than I trust my own control.”

    2. Accept that clarity often comes in hindsight.

    Don’t wait for the whole staircase—just take the next step you do see.

    3. Stop needing to “feel ready.”

    Obedience won’t always feel comfortable.

    Move anyway. Speak anyway. Begin anyway.

    4. Pay attention to peace.

    God’s plan often sounds like stillness, not pressure.

    If the plan is stressing your soul, it might be time to let it go.

    You don’t need to figure everything out. You just need to stay open.

    Let this be your reminder:

    You’re not falling behind when the plan shifts—you’re being aligned in real time.

    What feels like delay might actually be divine protection.

    What feels like loss might actually be redirection.

    And what looks like confusion might actually be the start of your clearest season yet.

    If you’re learning to walk with God moment by moment,

    If you’re trying to surrender the plan without collapsing in fear,

    If you’re trusting without the full picture—

    You’re doing sacred work.

    You’re walking by faith.

    And that… is more than enough.

  • The Sacred Work of Resting Without Guilt, Surrendering the Plan, and Learning to Trust God in Real Time

    The Sacred Work of Resting Without Guilt, Surrendering the Plan, and Learning to Trust God in Real Time

    There was a moment—recently, actually—when I sat in my room surrounded by half-finished ideas, unopened emails, and a heart that felt too tired to keep performing.

    I looked around and realized…

    I had no plan. No next step. No fire left to fake it.

    And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t want to push through it.

    I just wanted to rest.

    But that scared me.

    Because rest, for women like us—women who have survived off strength—can feel like failure.

    Like letting the world move without you.

    Like being lazy. Or falling behind.

    But what if I told you that rest isn’t weakness?

    That surrender doesn’t mean defeat—

    It means devotion.

    It means trust.

    Nobody teaches you how to trust God in real time.

    Not when everything’s going right.

    I mean when the plan falls apart.

    When the vision board starts to feel like a lie.

    When you’re in the hallway between what you prayed for and what hasn’t shown up yet.

    It’s one thing to trust God with hindsight.

    But to trust Him right here—in the pause, in the unraveling, in the silence?

    That’s sacred work.

    Resting without guilt requires reparenting yourself.

    I had to sit with the part of me that only felt valuable when I was producing something.

    The part that confused hustle for healing.

    The part that believed if I wasn’t pushing, striving, creating—I wasn’t enough.

    That voice? It wasn’t mine.

    It was inherited.

    It was survival.

    It was my old blueprint.

    But I’m building a new one now.

    One where rest is not earned—it’s honored.

    One where I don’t need a reason to pause.

    One where I can lay my plans down without thinking I’m letting God down too.

    This season has taught me something I’ll never forget:

    When you stop trying to control every outcome,

    When you stop begging for clarity before you take a step,

    When you stop asking “God, just give me the full picture” before you move…

    You finally start to live from trust instead of fear.

    Not because you know what’s coming.

    But because you know Who is with you in the unknown.

    Here’s how I’m learning to rest, surrender, and trust right now:

    1. I no longer ask for signs. I ask for stillness.

    Because sometimes the sign is in the pause.

    Sometimes God is saying, “You don’t need confirmation. You just need to breathe.”

    2. I give myself permission to not be “on.”

    Not every season is meant for output.

    Some seasons are meant to restore what burnout tried to steal.

    3. I lay the plan down every morning.

    Literally. I write my to-do list and then I whisper:

    “But God, if You need to interrupt this—I trust You.”

    That’s not easy. But it’s freedom.

    4. I remember that provision is not limited by my performance.

    Even when I rest, He works.

    Even when I pause, I’m still held.

    Even when I don’t feel productive, I am still protected.

    So if you’re tired—really tired—this post is your permission slip.

    To stop forcing.

    To stop pretending.

    To stop proving.

    Lay it all down.

    The timeline.

    The expectation.

    The weight.

    And pick up something lighter:

    Peace.

    Presence.

    God’s promise.

    You don’t need to have it all figured out.

    You just need to trust that you’re not being forgotten in the stillness.

    This is sacred.

    This is holy.

    This… is real-time trust.

    And if all you can do today is breathe, whisper a prayer, and believe that rest is also part of the work—

    then baby, you are right on time.