heartbreak

He’s Not Finished Yet

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

There are days when hope feels like a stranger.
When everything I thought would be — isn’t.
When the pain feels louder than the promise,
and I wonder if this is where the story ends.

I think of Mary.
Weeping at the foot of the cross.
Heart shattered.
Hope buried beneath the weight of what she couldn’t make sense of.

What she didn’t realize was…
Easter was coming.

The silence wasn’t the final word.
The grief wasn’t the whole story.
And the cross wasn’t the end.

Sometimes, I find myself standing in the same kind of ache —
facing heartbreak I didn’t ask for,
surrounded by questions without answers,
unsure of what’s ahead
or if anything good can come from here.

But then I remember…

God doesn’t leave things undone.
He doesn’t abandon stories halfway through.
He doesn’t hand us the pen and walk away.

Even when I can’t see how He’s moving,
He is still writing.
Still redeeming.
Still resurrecting.

The hope I need today might not be in a happy ending —
but in the quiet truth that this isn’t the end.

Because even when all hope seems lost,
my story isn’t over.
And the Author of my life
isn’t finished yet.

What Stayed Becomes the Legacy

/ Baylee Snelling / Leave a comment

I could make a list of all the things that left.
The people.
The promises.
The versions of life I thought I’d get to live.

But maybe it matters more to name what stayed.

The quiet strength I didn’t know I had.
The still, small voice that kept whispering, “Keep going.”
The arms that held my child even when mine were trembling.
The Presence that never walked out — even when everything else did.

What stayed wasn’t loud.
It didn’t demand attention.
It didn’t come with guarantees.

But it carried me.

And now?
Now I see it for what it is —
a legacy.

Because this love —
the one that stayed,
the one that steadied,
the one that kept showing up when no one was watching —
that’s what I get to pass on.

Not a perfect story.
But a faithful one.

He may not remember every hard day.
He won’t know how many battles I fought silently —
But he will carry the way I loved him.
Steady. Present. Unshaken by what tried to undo me.

This isn’t just healing.
This is inheritance.
This love — this staying —
is the legacy I leave.

“And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.”
— 1 Corinthians 13:13

Strength in the Tenderness

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

That ache in your chest?
It’s not weakness.
It’s your heart being honest.
It’s the weight of loving deeply
while walking through something impossibly unfair.

You’re not bitter —
you care.
You’ve carried so much,
stayed soft when life begged you to go hard.
You’ve loved well,
even when you weren’t loved back the same way.
You’re human —
and this hurts.

So if the tears fall tonight —
let them.
If the ache stirs —
let it speak.
It means your heart is still open.
Still tender.
Still beautifully alive.

That’s not a weakness.
That’s your strength —
whispering through the ache
that love still lives here.