Then Comes the Morning After
The morning after is when you decide whether the response from the crowd gets to determine whether you’re glad you entered the arena or not.
I love Brené Brown. I love Daring Greatly and the Theodore Roosevelt quote that inspired it—the one about having the courage to step into the arena.
Because it takes a lot of courage to step out and put yourself out there in a way that is vulnerable and open and honest and real.
Yesterday, I did that.
I launched the Finding Grace Sanctuary website on Facebook. I shared it with my friends and asked them to share it, too.
And if I’m being truthful, the response wasn’t what I’d hoped it would be.
So this morning I had two choices.
I could wake up and say, Screw it. Maybe I shouldn’t have done this. Maybe I put myself out there too much. What was I thinking?
Or I could say, You know what? It takes courage to step into the arena.
And then it takes courage to be willing to stand back and say:
God, it’s in Your hands. Not mine.
So I did what I know to do when my head gets loud.
I put on my shoes and went walking in one of my favorite places.
I just finished one loop, and the farther I walked, the more I realized something.
You know what?
It doesn’t matter who likes or responds.
The fact that I stood up, took the action, walked through the fear of doing what I did, and came out the other side—
that’s the thing that matters.
And then, somewhere on that walk, I realized something even bigger.
What I was doing at that very moment is exactly what I hope people will someday experience at Finding Grace Sanctuary.
I had come into nature carrying fear and doubt. I walked. I got quiet. I talked to God. I listened.
And little by little, the noise began to settle.
Clarity came.
Peace came.
Trust returned.
I found grace.
And I thought, Holy moly. This is it.
This is what I hope Finding Grace Sanctuary can be for someone else.
A place where you can come carrying whatever life has handed you and step away from the noise for a while.
A place to walk. To breathe. To be with animals. To be surrounded by nature. To reconnect with yourself, with others, and with God.
A place for clarity.
A place for peace.
A place for trust.
A place for those little God moments that remind us we’re not walking through this life alone.
I can’t promise what someone else will experience at Finding Grace. That’s between them and God.
But I can help create the space where something can happen.
And this morning, before the sanctuary has even been built, I experienced exactly what I hope it will someday offer someone else.
Courage requires fear.
Fear can either drive you away from your dreams, or it can become the very thing that catapults you toward something you never imagined possible.
So today, as I’m walking in my favorite place, I’m choosing to walk into the unknown.
Not because I’m not afraid.
I am.
But I’m walking anyway.
I’m walking with courage and with strength from God. I’m trusting that I don’t have to know what happens next.
And then, almost as if God wanted to put a little punctuation mark at the end of the morning, I looked down.
There it was.
A beautiful black-and-white woodpecker feather.
Feathers mean something to me. They always have.
And so did this one.
I had come into these woods wondering whether I should have stepped into the arena at all.
I was leaving with clarity, peace, trust—and another reminder to keep going.
Keep going.
Keep knocking.
Keep trusting.
And then, later that day, there was one more little confirmation.
A friend sent me a text.
She had read what I’d shared about Finding Grace and how scared I had gotten. She told me she had been watching Joyce Meyer that day and remembered how much I liked her.
Her message that day was about having a vision and acting on it. About how sometimes it takes a while to figure out how to do it because God is preparing you and showing you the way.
My friend heard that message and thought of me.
And there it was again.
I thought, Okay, God. I hear You.
Maybe I don’t have to know how all of this is going to happen.
Maybe I just have to keep taking the next step and trust that God will show me the way as I go.
Keep going.
Keep knocking.
Keep trusting.
Maybe Finding Grace isn’t only a sanctuary I’m hoping to build someday.
Maybe it’s also an experience I’m learning how to live.
I’m here.
I’m willing.
And whatever happens next, I’m glad I stepped into the arena.
This one I like. And notice I didn’t give you a brand-new ending. Your original ending is still there, because “I’m here. I’m willing.” is very much you.
The only spot I’d even consider changing is repeating “Keep going. Keep knocking. Keep trusting.” after your friend’s message. I actually like the repetition because now it feels like the message was confirmed twice—but if it feels like too much to you, I’d remove the second one. Everything else I’d leave alone.
