Beauty in the Ashes

Hey Mama,

It’s been a little quiet around here—not because I’ve run out of things to say, but because life took a turn I didn’t plan for. Just a week ago, we made a huge move. It was sudden, chaotic, and honestly… jarring. Over two weeks, everything shifted. Our rhythm disappeared. Our routine collapsed. And I’ve been scrambling to find my footing ever since.

I don’t function well in chaos—but God has a way of using it. Motherhood has taught me to pivot more times than I thought possible—and to be honest I still find myself resisting every time. This season has reminded me of something I keep forgetting: being mantled for the assignment doesn’t make me immune to being overwhelmed. So maybe the feeling of being overwhelmed isn’t something to escape—it’s something to examine…

Because I didn’t just feel tired. I felt guilty. Guilty for not posting. Guilty for not producing… Guilty for not showing up (performing) like I had planned. So I had to ask myself: Why do I believe that my worth is tied to what I can keep up? Why do I panic when I’m not producing content, as if God’s hand lifts when my hands stop moving?

We say we trust Him—until we have to slow down.

We say grace is enough—until we’re no longer “doing enough” to feel worthy of it. But here’s the truth God has been gently—and sometimes not-so-gently—teaching me: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me.”

—2 Corinthians 12:9 NLT

So here I am. Weak. Stretched. Out of rhythm.

Not trying to fake strength—but finally willing to examine the system that told me I had to. It’s God asking for the subtle idol that I made out of productivity and called it “purpose.” The fear I dressed up as “faithfulness.” The pressure I convinced myself was from God—when it wasn’t.

We love to say there’s beauty in the ashes—but we rarely ask who lit the fire. So who lit my fire? It wasn’t life. It wasn’t the move. It was the me who kept pushing when God was saying pause. The me who feared stillness because stillness felt like failure. The me who thought being “mantled” meant being unstoppable—when in truth, it means being surrendered.

And here’s what I’m learning: Burnout isn’t always the enemy. Sometimes, it’s the mercy. Sometimes, God lets our rhythm unravel so He can rebuild it on something solid.

So while there is beauty in beginnings, there’s also beauty in the burnout—when we let it break what was never meant to carry us. There’s beauty in the ashes—not because the fire felt good, but because it finally burned away what wasn’t God.

Rest is not weakness. Stillness is not failure. Slowing down doesn’t mean you’re falling behind—it might mean you’re finally catching up to grace.

So if you find yourself in transition…If you’re stretched, scattered, or even spiraling a bit…

Don’t just reach for comfort. While comfort can be reassuring. Comfort can also pacify survival, while clarity brings transformation.

Ask yourself:

• Why do I feel guilty for being human?

• Why do you believe you’re only valuable when you’re productive?

• When did I start believing that silence means I’m failing?

• Who told you rest was a reward instead of a need?

I know they are hard questions, but with intentional time of reflection with the Lord, these answers will bear fruit.

Let’s continue to grow together!

With love,

Amanda 💛