She sat in her car in the driveway for almost twenty minutes. The engine was off, her purse was on the passenger seat, and her phone had lit up three times, but she hadn't reached for it. Inside the house were people she loved, people she would do anything for, and people who had absolutely nothing to do with why she was sitting in the driveway trying to gather herself.
She just wasn't ready to go inside. Not yet. She wasn't angry with anyone, and she wasn't avoiding her family. She didn't need someone to come outside and ask what was wrong. She just needed twenty minutes when nobody needed anything from her. Twenty minutes to be tired, to not have an answer, and to sit with feelings she didn't quite know what to do with.
Maybe, just maybe, she'd find the energy to walk through the door and be present again.
I think more of us have been in that driveway than we'd care to admit. Maybe not literally. Maybe your driveway is your bedroom, your bathroom, your morning walk, or those extra few minutes sitting at your desk before starting the day. But you know the space I'm talking about, the one where you're trying to hold on to everything you believe while navigating everything you're feeling.
There's an interesting space between praying for something and actually receiving an answer. Nobody tells you how long you'll be there. It could be five days, six months, or a year. And while you're waiting, life doesn't stop. Bills still come, responsibilities don't disappear, and people still need things from you. Somehow, you're supposed to keep smiling, stay positive, and trust the process.
And I do trust God. Let me make that clear. I believe God is working on my behalf, even when I can't see it. I believe there are things happening that I know nothing about, and I believe that just because something hasn't happened yet doesn't mean it won't.
But can we talk about what happens in the meantime? Because I'm frustrated on certain days and anxious on others. There are mornings when I'm hopeful about everything ahead of me and evenings when I wonder how much longer I'm going to have to wait. Not because I don't trust God, but because I'm human.
Somewhere along the way, I think we've confused having faith with pretending we don't have feelings. We've created this strange expectation that if you're truly trusting God, you shouldn't complain, question anything, or acknowledge your disappointment. And you certainly shouldn't say anything negative, because apparently one frustrated sentence can undo six months of prayer.
I don't believe that. I don't believe God is sitting in heaven waiting for me to have one bad Tuesday so He can cancel everything He's been working on. I believe He knows my heart, and I believe He knows the difference between someone who has stopped believing and someone who's simply having a hard day.
I can be grateful and frustrated, hopeful and exhausted, faithful and uncertain. Those things can exist in the same person, on the same day, even within the same five minutes. And I don't think acknowledging those emotions makes us any less deserving of the things we're praying for.
Nehemiah 8:10 reminds us that the joy of the Lord is our strength. I've heard that scripture countless times, but recently I've been thinking about the words that come before it. Nehemiah tells the people to go, enjoy good food and sweet drinks, and share with those who have nothing prepared. Then he reminds them not to grieve, because the joy of the Lord is their strength.
What stands out to me is that they weren't simply told to stop grieving. They were invited to participate in life, to celebrate, to eat, to share, and to experience joy. The occasion was a holy day, and their circumstances didn't erase the invitation to rejoice.
Now, I recognize that the passage has a particular historical and spiritual context, but I also believe there's an important reminder in it for how we navigate our own difficult seasons. We cannot put our entire lives on hold while we're waiting for things to improve. We still need moments of connection, laughter, rest, and enjoyment. We still need reasons to look forward to tomorrow, even when we're uncertain about what tomorrow will bring.
My sister and I have been talking about this very thing. When finances are tight, it's easy to start treating every dollar as though spending it might be the decision that sends everything over the edge. You begin questioning every purchase, reconsidering every invitation, and convincing yourself that you can't enjoy anything until your financial situation changes.
And I want to be careful about how I say this next part. I'm not encouraging anyone to go spend money that you genuinely need for rent or groceries. What I'm challenging is the idea that financial hardship requires people to punish themselves by denying every small pleasure, every moment of joy, and every opportunity to participate in life. Sometimes that pleasure costs nothing. Other times it's a reasonably affordable treat.
If your money is funny, as I like to say, you already know how uncomfortable that feels. The uncertainty alone can make you second-guess everything. But if you've accounted for what you need and there's room in your budget for a small treat, enjoy the sandwich. Take the walk along the beach. Laugh with your sister. Accept an invitation that doesn't require you to spend money you don't have. Let yourself experience something good without immediately feeling guilty about it.
Joy shouldn't be something we postpone until every bill is paid, every problem is solved, and every prayer has been answered. There may always be something we're working through. If we wait until life is completely settled before giving ourselves permission to enjoy it, we may miss an awful lot of living.
And perhaps that's another way to understand the joy of the Lord being our strength. Not that we're expected to feel happy about difficult circumstances, but that we can continue to experience meaning, connection, and gratitude in the middle of them. Our problems may be real, but they don't have to become the only thing we're allowed to experience.
Of course, there are days when even that perspective feels difficult to hold on to. Emotional exhaustion can make prayer feel overwhelming, especially when you've been asking for the same thing for what feels like forever. You want to talk to God, but you don't quite know what else to say.
That's when it helps to remember that we don't have to navigate every difficult season alone. There are people who can stand with us in those moments, whether that's a trusted friend who knows how to pray with us, a spiritual leader whose message speaks directly to our circumstances, or a sermon or worship song that reconnects us with truths we've temporarily lost sight of.
There's no shame in receiving encouragement when you're struggling to encourage yourself. Sometimes you need to sit under a good word until you can find your own words again. And there's something beautiful about knowing you don't have to carry every difficult season entirely on your own.
We talk a lot about surrounding ourselves with positive people, and I believe community is important. But I also believe we have to recognize that emotional support doesn't look the same for everybody. Sometimes you need encouragement. Sometimes you need prayer. Sometimes you need community. And sometimes you simply need a little space to feel what you're feeling without somebody trying to fix you.
That last part matters because not every difficult emotion requires immediate intervention. Not every quiet moment is a cry for help, and not everyone who needs space is rejecting the people who love them. There are seasons when we're processing disappointment, managing uncertainty, or trying to make sense of circumstances we never anticipated.
That doesn't mean we've stopped loving our families, that we're being ungrateful, or that we've abandoned our faith. It means we're working through something, and people need permission to do that.
As a therapist, I also recognize that depression, anxiety, and emotional exhaustion can make connection feel difficult. There's a difference between taking healthy space to process your emotions and withdrawing so completely that you're struggling to function or maintain relationships. Both deserve compassion, but they may require different kinds of support.
We can respect someone's need for solitude while still checking on them. We can offer encouragement without demanding an immediate response. And when the weight becomes too heavy, seeking professional help is not a failure of faith. It's another way of caring for ourselves.
One of my favorite moments in scripture comes from a father who approaches Jesus, desperate for help. He says, “Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief.” What stands out to me is the honesty. He doesn't pretend to have perfect faith or hide his uncertainty to make his words sound more spiritual. He tells the truth: he believes, and he needs help.
And Jesus doesn't reject him for admitting both.
I think there's something we can learn from that encounter. We don't have to choose between acknowledging our emotions and maintaining our faith. We don't have to pretend the waiting is easy to prove we're trusting God, and we certainly don't have to convince everyone around us that we're doing wonderfully when we're not.
I don't know how long every waiting season will last. I don't know whether the answer will arrive tomorrow, next month, or look entirely different from what was originally prayed for. What I do know is that our feelings don't disqualify us from having faith, and our current circumstances don't have to determine whether we're allowed to experience joy.
So if you're in a season where you're doing your best to remain hopeful while navigating real disappointment, give yourself some grace. Take the walk, sit in the driveway, call someone who can pray with you, listen to a good word, and get support when you need it. Make room for the little moments that remind you there's still life happening around you, even while you're waiting for something to change.
You don't have to have everything figured out today. You can have faith and you can have feelings. You can be responsible and still make room for joy. You can be honest about what hurts without surrendering your hope for what's ahead.
God can handle all of it.
Scripture for Reflection
Nehemiah 8:10 — The people are encouraged to enjoy food and drink, share with those who have nothing prepared, and find strength in the joy of the Lord.
Mark 9:24 (KJV) — “Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief.”
Romans 8:26 — Even when we don't know what to pray, the Spirit helps us in our weakness.
After the Session
Reflections on faith, life, and everything we're still figuring out.
