Hiding in His Grace: A Journey of Surrender

 The Sacred Sound of Silence today 26 April, 2025. There was a time when I had dreams.

There were wishes — little ones and big ones.
But slowly, softly, God taught me another way.

Today, I no longer live chasing my dreams.
I no longer stand before Him asking, wishing, manifesting.

I simply hide behind Him.
I let Him walk ahead of me.
I trust that whatever He wishes to give me, He will.
Whatever He wishes to take from me, He will.
And I will carry both His gifts and His withdrawals with the same quiet acceptance.

I no longer live my life.
He lives it through me.

I am a working mother of two.
My job is not my ambition; it is my need — to survive, to nurture, to provide.
I see it as a simple act of obedience to the life God has entrusted to me.

My deepest prayer is not for success, nor fame, nor comfort.
It is simply this:
To raise my children under His power and grace.
To teach them not merely with words, but by living hidden inside His will.

The rest — I leave to Him.

Today, when I sat still, a fresh word flowed into my heart:

"I will give you wilderness filled with trees and cascade, and I will give you the law of the Church 3:17."

It came quietly but clearly.
I did not imagine it — it was given.

Obediently, I turned to the third book of the Bible — Leviticus — and opened 3:17.
It said:

"It shall be a perpetual statute for your generations throughout all your dwellings, that ye eat neither fat nor blood."

When I read it, I realized something extraordinary:
Long ago, even without knowing fully why, I had stopped eating blood — especially goat’s blood — since my youth.
Today, God Himself reminded me of the path He set my feet upon long ago.

I saw it clearly:
God did not let me forget.
He had been shaping me, guiding me, protecting me — even when I did not know it.

Today, I see:
God’s kindness is greater than understanding.
His faithfulness is deeper than memory.
He remembers every tiny obedience.
He brings back to light every seed He planted in silence.

Even my smallest acts of surrender were His work, not mine.
Even my survival was His grace, not my strength.

I do not live my life anymore.
He lives it.
And that, I realize now, is the greatest freedom of all.

🌸 May my life be a small flame that hides in His great light.
May my hands work, but His heart be seen.
May my children grow not in my strength, but in His grace.
And may I always walk, not ahead of Him, but hidden safely behind.

The one who writes in the quiet, marked with the signet of the King.

Let me be the pen. Lord, you be the writer!  

Mercy