The school year began this week. As I stood in the loft overlooking the gym, I felt something shift inside me. The very place I once ran from has now become the place where I feel most at home.
The loft sits right above the gym. On most days, the sound of bouncing balls, laughter, and footsteps echo up into my space. On rainy days, and especially when the heat index is too high for outdoor play, the gym becomes the only option. The noise stretches longer, sometimes pressing in so loudly it’s difficult to carry on a conversation. Yet even then, I know deep down this space was made for me.
It fits my design, my makeup, in a way I once tried to change. For years, I thought I wanted something different with more glamour, more money, more prestige. After eight years of teaching at a learning center, I walked away, convinced there had to be something “more” waiting for me.
For the next ten years, I was everywhere. I sold beauty and weight loss products. I dipped my foot into the insurance and credit restoration industries, convinced I was on the road to financial independence and eager to help others get there too. For a season, I drove a sprinter truck overnight—Kansas City to Columbia, and some nights all the way into Iowa. I even circled back to the education field, only to be delayed again by another shiny distraction.
There was also the stretch of driving for Uber. Occasionally, conversations with passengers would turn toward my passion for working with children, and more than once, I was encouraged to pursue those dreams.
If there was an opportunity, I tried it. If there was a hustle, I chased it. My life was scattered, busy, and all over the place. Yet with all that running, nothing ever felt right.
What I realize now is that my deepest joy has always awakened in one simple moment: when a child blends their way into the simplest of conversations. They don’t interrupt; they just arrive. A question, a smile, or a story slips in naturally, and suddenly I’m reminded of why I was created. That spark of connection is what I missed the most. That’s where I come alive. And here in this noisy loft, I finally have it again.
It reminds me of a waterfall. Water doesn’t resist or try to hold itself back. It doesn’t argue with gravity or demand its own way. It simply yields — and in that surrender, it becomes breathtaking. A waterfall is both powerful and calming, forceful and beautiful. That’s what surrender is teaching me: it’s not weakness, it’s strength flowing where it was always meant to go.
Surrender has always been God’s way.
- Hannah surrendered her deepest longing for a child, promising to give him back to the Lord. Out of her surrender came Samuel, one of Israel’s greatest prophets (1 Samuel 1–2).
- Esther surrendered her own safety to risk everything before the king: “If I perish, I perish.” Her surrender saved a nation.
- Peter surrendered his nets when Jesus called, and later had to surrender his pride after denying Christ. Through that surrender, he became the rock on which the Church was built.
- Jackie Hill Perry surrendered a lifestyle she once embraced to follow Christ, and now she uses her gifts as a poet and teacher to lead others into truth.
- Christine Caine surrendered her personal ambitions to step into God’s call to fight human trafficking through A21, rescuing lives and spreading hope across the globe.
- Dallas Jenkins experienced what looked like failure in his film career, but when he surrendered his dream to God’s direction, The Chosen was born — a series now watched by millions around the world.
- Jeremy Camp surrendered his deepest grief when his first wife passed away, and God transformed his pain into music that has comforted and inspired countless believers.
Each of these stories — from Scripture to modern times — shows us the same truth: when we let go, God steps in.
My own surrender looks different. Mine is a loft over a gym, filled with noise that stretches long on rainy days and hot afternoons. But it’s here that I’ve discovered what my heart longed for all along: meaningful connection with children. I was never called to chase glamour, money, or prestige. I was called to create space where a child feels safe enough to walk up, open their heart, and invite me into a conversation. That is where I belong. That is my design.
I wasted so much strength trying to control every scenario, every outcome. Now I see that true strength is found in release. The loft, the gym, the children’s voices — all of it fits the design God intended for me. It isn’t always quiet, glamorous, or easy, but it’s mine. And nothing compares to the joy of finally being aligned with where I was meant to be at this time and in this season.
Speaking to You
Maybe you’ve been chasing “more,” too. More recognition, more success, more security. Perhaps, like me, you’ve found that those pursuits leave you weary instead of fulfilled.
Here’s what I want you to know: you don’t have to keep holding it all together. The strength you think you need for control is the very strength that is waiting to be freed in surrender.
If you feel restless, if nothing has felt quite right, it may be because you’re resisting the very design God created you for. The truth is, your greatest joy won’t come from chasing someone else’s version of success. It will come when you lean into the place, the calling, and the design that was made for you.
Reflection Questions
- What areas of your life feel the heaviest because you’re still trying to control them?
- Where have you been chasing “more” — money, recognition, or prestige — only to feel emptier afterward?
- How might your life look different if you trusted God’s design instead of forcing your own?
Closing Prayer
Lord, I release the grip I’ve been holding on my own life.
I confess that I have chased things You never called me to chase.
Help me to find peace in the place You have designed for me, even if it looks different from what I imagined.
Teach me to say “yes” to Your leading.
Show me that surrender is not loss, but life.
Let Your joy and peace rise in me as I align with Your perfect design.