Surrender

Oh, the deep North! You are beautiful, peaceful, and relentless. You have taught me stillness—not just in the quiet of the snow but in my soul.

I was so different back then—almost unrecognizable compared to who I am now. Those lonely and confusing times were everything, forcing me to become comfortable with solitude. Now, I’m more at peace alone than ever before. Maybe that’s why people are drawn to me now.

But back then, I had no one to call. No one called me. My family had distanced themselves, leaving me to wonder what I had done to be so forgotten. It was just me and my children, navigating life in a place that was both breathtaking and isolating.

You learn to adapt. You find a new way to live. And sometimes, it turns out even better than before.✨

It’s January 4, 2018. The night is dark, the cold is unrelenting, and I sit alone at my computer. My only companion. The silence stretches, broken only by the hum of my thoughts. My fingers are numb, my toes barely feel the floor beneath me, and the snow piles higher outside my window.

Yet, in that solitude, I found something unexpected—strength.

Lessons in Isolation

The North presented obstacles, but it also became my teacher. I had spent my life making decisions based on others, never truly listening to my needs. Moving here forced me to face the weight of my own choices, my fears, and the parts of myself I had ignored.

I had always been a worrier, a planner, a fixer. Anxiety and depression sat on my shoulders, whispering doubts and reminding me of my failures. But for the first time, I had space—space to think, to feel, to surrender.

There was no one to please, and there were no expectations to meet. Just me.

I used to measure my worth by how much I could do, how many tasks I could complete, and how many people I could care for. In Colorado, I had been drowning in responsibility, exhausted and unfulfilled. Here, in the quiet of the snow, I was learning that survival wasn’t just about pushing through—it was about finding peace within the struggle.

Letting Go of Control

I had spent years trying to control everything—my family’s happiness, my future, even God’s timing. But my timelines don’t bind God, and I wasn’t meant to carry so much weight alone.

Surrendering didn’t mean giving up. It meant releasing the illusion of control and trusting that I was exactly where I was meant to be.

This solitude wasn’t a punishment. It was an invitation to heal, grow, and regain confidence in myself.

A New Strength

Deep North, you have shaped me. You have pushed me beyond what I thought I was capable of. You have taught me resilience, patience, and the power of faith.

I am no longer afraid of the quiet. I no longer fear the cold.

I am the warmth.
I am the fire.
I am the mother who protects her family.

I have already done what they said I couldn’t. And for that, I thank you.

SK-

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