December 2020—I wrote this piece as a reflection on the journey I had already been walking and the road still ahead. Looking back now, I see even more clearly the depth of God’s grace in my life. I’ve remastered this post to freshen it up, but its heart remains the same—a testimony of faith, endurance, and the undeniable truth that Jesus saves.

My life holds value, not just in words but in action. Faith and works are not separate; they complement one another. One without the other is hollow. They work together to complement each other.

I share this with you now, not just as a story but as love.

– Skelly

Tightrope of Life

I feel like I’m walking a tightrope, one wrong step away from disaster. My focus is so intense that the world around me fades. Each step is deliberate, yet fear whispers that I’ll misstep—that I’ll change everything.

I know I’m not that powerful, yet the weight on my shoulders makes it feel otherwise. My children’s future, my husband’s happiness, the emotions of everyone I encounter—why is it my job to carry it all?

Somehow, my words matter too much and not enough. I fear my face betrays me, that my presence offends. Every step feels like a delicate balance between being strong but not too strong, gentle but not weak. Am I leading enough? Submitting enough? Loving enough?

I shift my weight, another step forward. The rope burns, my arms ache. I stood still for so long, waiting—almost disappearing. You’d think I would have seen everything in that silence, but there was nothing. Just darkness, loneliness. No fear, no hope, no love. Just… nothing.

Then, a voice. Not pushing—pulling. The weight lifted. I was floating, blinded by light, my frozen body coming back to life. The pain was proof that I was still here. And then, a hand. Steady. Strong. Bigger than me. I couldn’t see who held me, but I felt it—protection, love.

“You are one of the ninety-nine,” the voice said. “Keep moving forward. Don’t look back. It will be hard, but have faith.”

And then, I saw myself—pale, broken, unfamiliar. The sight made me weep. But I moved. Pain surged through my legs, yet I welcomed it. I was alive.

The tightrope was still beneath me, but now, I could walk. Each blistered step took me further from the darkness. Progress. Proof that I had survived. But now, the steps are harder again. The weight returns. Disappointments stack up. Joy feels distant.

So, I tighten my grip, focus, and move. No stopping, no falling. Just faith.

Was it God who pulled me back? A guardian angel? My own mind?

I believe it was grace—a grace I never knew before. That hollow place is no longer my home. But I still don’t understand my purpose.

So, I keep stepping forward, holding onto hope. Maybe I’m being protected from what I’m not ready to see. Maybe I’m closer than I think to solid ground.

A place of laughter, love, and belonging. A home where life is more than survival.

God, was it You? Was it You who saved me, sent me forward, prepared a place for me?

If so, I’ve kept my word. I’ve stepped carefully, endured the pain, followed Your voice.

Is it time? Can I stand on solid ground now?

I wait. Walking. Praying. Trusting that better days are near.

-SK

SK

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