“Dont let evil conquer you, but conquer evil by doing good”

This morning I decided to have coffee with Jesus at my kitchen table, a sacred space that feels like a touchstone of my family’s history. The weather is actually perfect this morning, with a gentle breeze wafting through the open window. The rays of the sunshine hitting the table caught my eye today and made me pause. My heart filled with thankfulness for those rays of sunshine, reminding me of countless moments spent sitting at this very table with my mom and my grandmother, chatting and laughing while they sipped on their coffee. I can still hear their voices, soft and inviting, as they reminisced about their lives and shared stories that seemed to span generations. This table will always hold a place of good memories; my grandfather made this table for the love of his life, pouring his heart and craftsmanship into every joint and curve, a testament to his love and dedication. I am honored to have it in my home, holding so many memories that have woven the fabric of our family story. It’s crazy how God will get your attention in unexpected moments, gently nudging you to reflect on the importance of those you love and the experiences you’ve shared. The Bible verse today has also reminded me that love and kindness is what gets us to the next day. Giving it doesn’t cost anything. Both of my grandmothers are very kind humans. I don’t recall either of them saying a mean thing about any one person. Their advice is to always be kind, show grace because you don’t know what someone is going through. Jesus wants exactly that! Fill your heart and your thoughts with joy and thankfulness because what we put in is what we put out. Filling our hearts and minds with negativity also opens a window for the enemy to fill us with nothing less than envy and deceit. So give someone a smile and a nod hello, compliment someones jacket or shoes today, make someone smile and if they don’t then keep them on your prayer list and ask for God to bless them in the ways they need. Conguer evil with kindness and love.

Back to my story…

Days and months went by, still getting up day after day between 3am and 3:30 am. When God woke me, I got up; when God spoke, I listened intently, allowing His words to fill my heart with guidance and strength. My relationship grew with God bigger than I could ever imagine, blossoming into a profound connection that shaped my every thought and action. It’s hard to determine if God is speaking to you or if it’s your own conscience playing games inside your head, creating a confusing internal dialogue that often leads to doubt. Sometimes you just have to be still and listen to sort out your thoughts, giving yourself the space to differentiate between divine whispers and your own musings. The discernment I was receiving from God was heavy, a tangible weight that pressed upon my spirit, and prayer was the only way I found to get rid of that burden. I prayed every day, pouring out my soul and asking God to rebuke the evilness walking the rooms of our home, seeking His protective embrace for my family. Although I didn’t understand what this evilness was or where it stemmed from, I felt its presence lurking, a shadow that threatened to disrupt our peace. I didn’t want it there attacking my family, compromising our well-being, so I committed myself to a fervent prayer life, trusting that God would shield us from harm and illuminate the path ahead. I have multiple journal pages providing proof of my protection prayers. I not only walked into every room of my home praying , I wrote the prayers beforehand.

My marriage wasn’t perfect, as our busy family life often got in the way of being intentional with each other. Throughout the last few years, affection became less frequent, but our friendship stayed remarkably strong. We still loved each other deeply, yet we were also exhausted from the relentless cycles of packing, traveling, and unpacking that accompanied our hectic lifestyle. Life had become a whirlwind, and it seemed as though we had gradually drifted apart. Even so, we were still getting along quite well; we never really fought about anything significant. The absence of conflict was perhaps a testament to our understanding of each other. we both had our own separate bank accounts, which meant that financial disagreements were never a concern. In fact, we never fought over anything at all. Despite our lack of affection and intimacy, my husband remained my best friend, and I didn’t blame him for the emotional distance we had begun to feel. However, I did acknowledge our lack of intimacy, and it weighed heavily on my heart. I had grown increasingly concerned, realizing that we had not been intimate for quite some time—maybe around a year or more. This concern had been simmering beneath the surface for a while, but I never had the courage to voice it, perhaps fearing the answer more than the deepening sense of curiosity that gnawed at me. Our daily conversations continued, and we still made time to catch up on the details of our days, sharing laughs and light-hearted moments with each other. We still slept in the same bed, enjoyed our favorite television shows together, and delighted in silly game nights with the kids, cherishing the joy that their laughter brought into our home. Nothing else seemed to have changed much on the surface. Our marriage had never completely relied on an overindulgence of physical affection, so I often overlooked the lack of it, convincing myself that our emotional connection was enough to sustain us. Yet, deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something vital was missing, leaving me to wonder what it would take to rekindle that spark we once shared.

There was one evening while camping, the kids went off to bed and left just my husband and I sitting by a campfire alone, the crackling of the flames providing a comforting backdrop to our conversation. I quietly brought up the lack of intimacy in our marriage, a subject that had been weighing heavily on my heart for some time. Just as I thought, his response was just complete exhaustion, as he leaned back and stared into the fire, seemingly lost in thought. I had asked him if he had been cheating or if I should be concerned about the thought, my voice shaking slightly with vulnerability. He quickly reassured me that nothing of such was even a thought and that he loved me and the girls more than life itself. We went to bed with an uneasy silence lingering between us. Even days after that conversation, I tried to trust his reassurance, but something still wasn’t right. discernment started to grow even more after this, making me question not just the state of our relationship but also the depth of the connection we once shared, prompting me to wonder whether we could rebuild the intimacy that had slowly faded away.

After that, life went on in a familiar rhythm, but my intuitions grew stronger with each passing day, almost as if they were guiding me through the uncertainty that surrounded me. Most days, I found myself praying for my husband, pouring my heart out to God, asking for a miraculous turn in our situation or for clarity to reveal what needed to be known. I let go of what I could not control, embracing a sense of peace that came from surrendering my worries to a higher power, and I simply waited for God to do His work in our lives. My trust in God grew deeper each day; I knew this because, despite the challenges, I didn’t feel the weight of sadness or the sting of feeling unwanted, and I never felt alone in my thoughts. There was always a comforting presence beside me, a steadfast reassurance that I wasn’t navigating this journey by myself. I knew I could lean on this divine support, and with every passing day, it strengthened my faith, filling my heart with hope and an unshakable belief that everything would ultimately unfold in the way it was meant to.

While God was teaching me patience and filling my heart with peace, I was also letting go of the love I once had for my husband, a process that was both painful and enlightening. Knowing deep down that our marriage was on its way to an end, I began to accept the reality of our situation. The days went by feeling like I lived with a roommate, sharing a space but not a life, and I was content just living life as long as our girls were happy. I focused on creating a nurturing environment for them, prioritizing their needs and ensuring they felt loved, while quietly grappling with my own emotions. I still stayed loyal to my husband who wasn’t really my husband in the truest sense; our connection had diminished to mere cohabitation. Nevertheless, I still had a love for the friendship we once shared, and that meant staying loyal to that friendship was important to me. I held onto the hope that, despite our struggles, we could still find a way to support one another as co-parents, cherishing the bond that had brought us together in the first place, even as I mourned what we had lost.

Even though I was suspecting his infidelity, I had no evidence to prove that my intuitions were real, which left me in a state of confusion and heartache. The desire for intimacy had left my soul, replaced by a deep sense of betrayal that crept into every interaction we had. I found myself thinking of the moments we once shared, the laughter that felt genuine, and the late-night conversations that now seemed like a distant memory. I knew that I had to start making plans to hopefully depart as friends, though the thought of ending our relationship filled me with sadness. It was a difficult decision to make, but deep down, I understood that moving on might be the only way to heal the wounds of mistrust and rediscover the happiness I once knew.