Return to Him, even if in pieces.

Today, while sitting on my knees in a puddle of tears (honestly… the usual lately), I was reminded that even in my most broken moments, God still sees me. Not the polished version. Not the version that has it all together. The exhausted, grieving, confused version. And somehow, even there, He is still gently putting me back together piece by piece.

At thirty-one, I truly thought my life would look so different. Never in a million years did I imagine I would be divorced, living in an entirely different state, grieving the life I thought I was building. I had so many plans, so many prayers, so many hopes for how my story would unfold. And I’ve cried out to God more times than I can count asking, “Why didn’t it work? Why did it have to happen this way?”

This season has stretched me deeply. Frustration, heartbreak, loneliness, disappointment… all of it has felt so heavy. I’m the kind of woman who loves deeply and with pure intentions, and if I’m honest, I’ve felt incredibly hurt and disrespected this season. There have been so many moments where I’ve wanted to harden my heart completely. To stop loving so openly. To stop being patient, forgiving, understanding.

I remember joking with God the other day, saying, “What’s the point of continuing to love this way when people just take advantage of it?”

And in the gentlest way, I felt Him remind me:
“Because you just love, Jaeden. It’s who you are. Don’t let the brokenness of others make you bleed too. Remember… hurt people hurt people.”

That reminder stayed with me.

I never want the pain I’ve experienced to turn me into someone cold, bitter, guarded, or incapable of loving well. The world already has enough hardened people. If anything, I want my pain to make me softer, wiser, more compassionate, and more dependent on God than ever before.

So if you’re in a season where your heart feels shattered, your plans fell apart, or you’re questioning why God allowed certain doors to close… maybe this is your reminder too: He still sees you. Even in pieces. Especially in pieces.

Your part is simply to keep showing up and placing each broken piece into His hands. The grief. The confusion. The disappointment. The anger. The loneliness. The questions you don’t even know how to put into words. Give Him all of it.

He made you. He is the only One who fully knows how to rebuild what this world, other people, and even your own choices have broken. And the beautiful thing about God is that He doesn’t rebuild us into who we were before the pain. He rebuilds us stronger, softer, wiser, and closer to Him than we ever were before.

Sometimes healing feels less like instant restoration and more like slowly learning to trust the hands of the One putting you back together. Piece by piece. Prayer by prayer. Tear by tear.

And one day, you’ll look in the mirror and realize the woman or man standing there survived everything that once tried to destroy them… because God never stopped holding them together.

I’m a bold woman. A woman who fights hard, loves deeply, and has endured more trials than most should ever have to carry. Yet through every loss, heartbreak, disappointment, and season that tried to break me, I never allowed my past to define me. Instead, it pushed me closer to God, deeper into growth, and stronger in who He created me to be.

Every battle I’ve fought, every tear I’ve cried, and every lesson I’ve had to learn the hard way has been worth it. Worth it for my children. Worth it for the woman I’m becoming. Worth it for the life God is preparing me for, and one day, worth it for the man I will stand beside and love wholeheartedly.

For as long as I can remember, these have been the deepest desires written on my heart:

1) To be a reflection of His light and love to every soul I encounter. That through the way I forgive, love, encourage, and carry myself, people would feel something different. Something gentle. Something safe. Something that points them back to Jesus, even if only for a fleeting moment.

2) To give my children a childhood they never have to heal from. To be the kind of mother whose arms feel like home when life becomes too heavy to carry alone. I want my daughter to see in me the kind of woman she should never shrink herself from becoming — soft yet strong, faithful, resilient, compassionate, and deeply rooted in God. And for my sons, I want them to know that tenderness does not make a man weak. I want to raise men who lead with humility, strength, integrity, and love. Men who protect, provide, pray, and love others well.

3) To love one man wholeheartedly, faithfully, and without condition the way Christ loves me. To truly be his peace in a chaotic world. His safe place. His encourager. His partner in every season of life. To know when to speak life into him, when to simply hold him together, and how to love him not only in his strength, but also in the moments where he feels hardest to love. A love rooted not in ego or pride, but in loyalty, sacrifice, grace, and God.