Chelsea, Becoming

It’s only been two weeks into 2026, and already it feels like everything familiar has been flipped upside down and turned inside out.

In the last fourteen days, I signed my divorce papers.
My dog moved into a new home with friends who love him.
I was laid off from a job I really enjoyed due to budget cuts.
Then rehired by the same company three hours later in a role that looks completely different.
I fell into a drain hole, which was partially my fault, and walked away with a bruise the size of a softball.
Somewhere between all of that, I cracked open in ways I did not expect.

It snuck up on me quietly.
The kind of quiet where falling apart happens when life changes faster than your heart can keep up.

There were moments I sat in silence and felt overwhelmed by how much had shifted. Moments where the weight of letting go pressed heavy on my chest. Moments where I wanted someone to tell me exactly what to do next so I could stop feeling so unsure. Tears welled up in my eyes more times than I would like to admit, often when I was alone.

I like certainty.
I like plans.
I like knowing where I am headed and how I am going to get there.

Right now, I have none of that.

I do not have answers. I do not have a timeline. I do not have a safety net that makes sense on paper. I am not prepared.

What I do have feels quieter. Stronger. Something more valuable than money. I have Jesus.

It has been nearly five years since I truly spent time with Jesus. In His church. In community with others who love and serve Him. And somehow, in the middle of everything falling apart, I have fallen back in love with Him.

Not in a flashy way. Not in a performative way. In the slow, steady way that happens when you realize He is the only place left to land. I found a church that feels like home instead of obligation. A place where I can sit exactly as I am and not feel rushed to become anything else.

I opened myself up to friends. Some new. Some familiar. I let people see me without the polished version. I stood up for myself in ways that mattered most. Gently. Honestly. Without apology.

I dove into the book of John and read it slowly. I lingered. I listened. Verses I have read before sounded new. Truths I thought I understood settled deeper. I felt the Holy Spirit speak in ways that were not loud, but clear. Comforting. Convicting. Present.

Both things are true at the same time.

I cannot focus on much other than Jesus right now. My life fell apart, and I am trying to rebuild it. The only way I want to do that is through Him.

I am unraveling.
And I am being held.

In my first post, I talked about intention. About choosing honesty, faith, softness, and courage. This is what intention looks like when it meets real life. It looks like discomfort. It looks like surrender. It looks like learning to trust when trust feels shaky.

I am realizing that the Lord is teaching me something through this season. Something I have avoided my whole life.

Dependence.

Let me be clear. Dependence on Jesus Christ. Not a man. Not a job. Not comfort or security as the world defines it. Dependence on Jesus alone.

Being uncomfortable forces me to rely on Him instead of myself. It strips away the belief that I can control outcomes if I plan hard enough. It brings me to Him daily. Sometimes hourly. Sometimes breath by breath.

I do not like this lesson. I am uncomfortable. My body feels tense. My heart races. My mind fills with what-ifs and doubts.

But I am learning it anyway.

I am seeking Jesus for answers I do not have, which is most of them. I am asking Him to guide steps I cannot see yet. I am choosing faith without guarantees. Trust without clarity. Obedience without a full picture.

This is where we go from here. Not toward certainty. Not toward perfection. But toward trust.

Toward showing up even when I feel unsure. Toward believing provision will come even when I cannot see how. Toward letting God lead instead of demanding a detailed plan.

Faith, I am learning, is not having it all figured out. It is walking forward anyway and relying on Jesus with each step.

Some days that looks like confidence. Some days it looks like tears. Both are welcome here. Both are part of becoming.

I am still in progress. Still learning. Still choosing to trust a little more each day.

And for now, that is enough.

XO,
Chelsea

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart;
do not depend on your own understanding.
Seek his will in all you do,
and he will show you which path to take.”
Proverbs 3:5–6 (NLT)