The Architect of My Soul

She walked a mile in my shoes, they’d say, and they’d see a storm. A tempest of trouble, perhaps, a whirlwind of woes. But they’d be mistaken, wouldn’t they? For my pursuit was not of discord, but of a happiness that sang in my bones, a melody only I could compose. Yet, there were days, so many days, when my heart became a vessel overflowing with the bitter draught of disappointment, a chilling fear that threatened to drown me. It was in those moments, those suffocating moments, that the fight began. A fight to catch a glimpse of the light, to become the woman my God envisioned. A fight to never, ever surrender, to cling to strength with a ferocity born of desperation. For only the strong, I’d learned, could weather the storm that raged within. The pain, the fear – they were but transient visitors, not the architects of my being. I was not what they saw, not the sum of their judgments. I was, and I was striving to be, the architect of my own soul. Through my own words, I would speak louder, clearer, a beacon against the encroaching shadows. And when tomorrow dawned, I would cast aside my sorrows, rise with the sun, and offer thanks for the dream that guided me. Come, walk with me, I’d whisper, walk with me through the tangled paths, and you will see my struggle. But heed this warning: do not let the world mold you, do not let the actions of others twist your spirit into knots. People arrive, people depart, leaving their imprints, sometimes scars. And above all, do not let their comings and goings harden your heart, do not let them make you unkind. It is permissible to weep, to feel the heavy cloak of sadness. But it is never, ever right to inflict wrong upon another simply because you have been wronged. We are human, after all. We stumble, we err, we fall. But do not let the pain, the bitterness, dictate the rhythm of your life. Wake each morning and choose the path of righteousness. Pp

There are moments, aren’t there, when the weight of it all presses down, when the thought of surrender whispers seductively in your ear, when you feel you can no longer bear the burden? It is then, in those very moments, that you must breathe. Inhale the uncertainty, exhale the doubt. I know you feel weak, but the very things that expose your vulnerability are, in truth, the very things that forge your strength in the long run. It is all about embracing whatever life throws your way, learning from each encounter, each setback. But remember, we are not perfect. The day I truly understood the profound difference between love and mere obligation, the day I learned to hold onto hope, the day I embraced faith in God, not with questions, not with doubt, but with an unyielding certainty – that, my friends, was the day I knew true faith.

When my daughter took her own life, it was not faith that wavered. It was my world that shattered. I did not question my faith; I questioned everything. The pain was a raw, open wound, a constant ache that I believed would never truly heal. But in the crucible of that grief, I learned acceptance. She was here, for a fleeting moment, a divine purpose woven into the fabric of my existence. And that is why I named her Hope. The day she was born, when my heart was a barren land, devoid even of God’s presence, I knew. I knew in the deepest part of my being that she was my hope, my reason. I still didn’t grasp the true meaning of faith, of believing in God, but when I looked upon her, it was a miracle. She was living proof.

I am here now, I know, only because of Him. Without Him, I would not be. And to have let Him down, to have faltered in my belief, would have been an unforgivable betrayal. Because I know He is there, always. I only need to ask. I only need to reach out and ask for His strength. I know this because there are times when I feel I am on the verge of breaking, when every fiber of my being screams for me to give up. But no. He always shows me. Every single day, He bestows upon me gifts I never imagined I could possess. Little by little, I begin to see what He offers, what I truly need. He grants me lessons, and He gives me reasons to see hope. Sometimes, it is not easy. But that does not mean I lose my way. I hold faith in my hand, because even when I am at my lowest, on the brink of collapse, when I pray, He never abandons me.

Sometimes, I find myself reflecting on the past, on the sheer audacity of my faith. How could I possess such unwavering conviction when I had endured so much? How could I maintain faith when I was hurt, when I was incarcerated and nearly lost my children, when I was utterly alone and destitute, when I was working tirelessly in prison? How, I wondered, could faith bloom in such barren soil? And I would answer myself: Because He was there. If He had not been there with me, I would not be here today. He helped me to navigate those treacherous waters, those agonizing times, because I reached out to Him. That is why I know I was never alone. Every time fear tightened its grip, every time I felt lost, I would whisper, "Please, God, protect me. Guide me. Show me how to love you more than ever. Never let me stop praying." Every single time I felt lost, or sorrowful, or disappointed, every time a darkness threatened to engulf me, I would whisper my thanks. Because even in the midst of despair, I found a closeness to Him. Because even from the most tragic of circumstances, something good can emerge. I learned to love God more deeply, not just when things were easy, but even when tragedy struck. How could I feel closer to Him during those times? Because I did not question.p We question when things go wrong, don’t we? When life deviates from our carefully laid plans, when our expectations are dashed, we become angry, we demand answers. But I learned to balance, to see the larger picture. You might have to fall. Most likely, you will have to fall, so that you can truly reach out to Him. We accept that things go wrong when we do not reach out to Him. That is part of being human. We must accept this life, this world, the trials it inevitably brings. But that is also what draws us closer to Him. It is a way of seeing things, a new perspective. And from what we lose, we often receive so much more.

And the way I see it, I have received so much from Him. Precious gifts. I see them every day. I learned how to color a flower, how to create something beautiful with my hands, how to pick up an instrument and ask Him, with a hopeful heart, to grant me the gift to play a song, to share it with the world. And then, it happened. A miracle. I learned to have real faith. A faith that was deep, and true, and unwavering. A faith that sustained me when all else seemed lost. A faith that allowed me to see the unfolding light, even in the deepest darkness.