Quiet Strength

The Light We Already Carry

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

There are moments when everything feels heavy —
when the world feels dark,
and I find myself whispering,
“It’s really dark, God. Can You help shine some light?”

And I feel Him answer,
softly but clearly:
“My child, you are to be the light.”

I’ve stood in the dark before, wishing for a flashlight — only to realize there was a light switch within reach.

Maybe it’s the same in life.
What we’re asking for might already be within us.
What we’re craving, we might already carry.

This world has always known darkness.
But that’s why the light matters.

Even a small light can change what feels overwhelming.

Maybe today, it begins with you.

“You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden.”
Matthew 5:14 (ESV)

A Letter to the Present Moment

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

I used to think healing meant moving forward —
quickly, cleanly, clearly.
But I’ve come to realize,
some of the most important parts of healing
happen when I’m not going anywhere at all.

Just here.
Still.
Sitting in the slow stretch of the present moment.

It’s not always comfortable.
I find myself reaching for distractions,
searching for answers,
wishing for resolution.

But I’m learning not to rush this season.
Not to escape it,
fix it,
or numb it.

Just…
to be in it.
To breathe through it.
To let it shape me
without stealing me.

There’s something sacred here —
in the pause,
in the waiting,
in the not-yet-knowing.

So tonight, I’m practicing presence.
Letting today be enough.
Letting now be holy.

They say, “the most beautiful skies come after the worst storms.”
Who they are, I’ll never know.
But I do know this —
it’s true.
And I can’t wait to see just how beautiful the sky is.

The Prayer I Keep Whispering: A Quiet Breath for the Week Ahead

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

God,
You already know —
but I’ll say it anyway.

Because something in me
needs to say it out loud.
To bring the ache to You
instead of just carrying it around inside me.

I don’t have anything profound today.
No bold declarations.
No polished prayers.
Just a quiet whisper
from a tired heart.

Hold me steady.
Keep us safe.
Help me trust what I can’t yet see.
Remind me that I’m not lost in this.

Some days I feel brave.
Other days, I feel like I’m barely holding on.
But You’ve never needed my strength to stay close.

So I’ll stay here.
Soft.
Honest.
Open.

Still whispering —
and still believing
that You’re listening.

Amen.

In the Stretch Between

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

There’s a certain kind of quiet
that lives in the in-between.
After what’s been planned —
before what makes sense.

It’s not quite peace.
Not quite panic.
Just… waiting.
A stretch of time
where clarity feels far away,
and trust becomes a choice
you keep making in the dark.

That’s where I am right now.

And I don’t have anything polished to say.
No deep revelation.
No strength to spare.
Just this: I’m here.

Still praying.
Still breathing.
Still trusting the One who sees what I can’t.

Because I don’t know what’s next —
but I know who’s holding me.
And sometimes that has to be enough.

So if you’re in the stretch too —
between the ache and the answer,
between the weight and the relief —
you’re not alone.

This space might not feel holy,
but I believe it is.

And even here,
you are still held.

I’m Not Who I Was — And That’s a Good Thing

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

I used to think healing would bring me back to who I was before.
Before the breaking.
Before the questions.
Before the silence.

But I’ve learned —
healing doesn’t take you back.
It walks you forward, slowly,
into someone new.

And the woman I’m becoming
is softer than she used to be —
but she’s also steadier.
She still feels things deeply,
but she no longer apologizes for that.

She pays attention now.
To what feels safe.
To what feels like peace.
To what feels like home.

There was a time I thought becoming meant performing —
trying to prove I was strong, unshaken, “okay.”

Now, I know better.

Becoming looks like knowing when to speak
and when to stay quiet.
It looks like grace for the in-between.
It looks like choosing truth,
even when it’s tender.

And while I wouldn’t have chosen this path,
I’m learning to see beauty in who I’m becoming along the way.

No, I’m not who I was —
and maybe that’s not something to grieve.
Maybe that’s something to honor.

It’s the quiet strength that speaks the loudest.
Can you hear it in yourself, too?

God, Are You Listening?

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

God,
are You listening?

I know You are.
But some days, I still ask the question.

Not because I think You’ve left —
but because I am both —
the steady believer
and the human heart that aches for response.

I still pray.
Still trust.
Still believe You are near.
But there are moments when I wonder
why it feels like I’m the only one speaking.

The silence is heavy when I’m carrying so much.

And then I remember:
sometimes,
it’s in the silence
that we hear You the loudest.

So I keep praying —
not to fill the quiet,
but to stay close to You inside it.

Because maybe faith isn’t always loud.
Maybe it’s this:
still believing You hear me —
even when You don’t say a word.

So yes, I’ll keep asking:
God, are You listening?

And I’ll keep trusting —
because something in me knows
You always are.

When You Don’t Get to Stay

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

There are moments when you know —
your presence brings comfort.
Not because anyone says it,
but because something in the atmosphere shifts when you’re near.

You show up.
You offer calm.
You anchor the moment with your quiet steadiness.

And for a while… that’s enough.

But then comes the shift.

A silent decision.
A subtle closing of a door you didn’t realize you were standing in.

And just like that, you’re no longer needed.

Not because the comfort changed.
Not because the ache disappeared.
But because something else spoke louder than tenderness.

You just carry it —
quietly, inwardly.

Not because you chose to let go,
but because you weren’t given the chance to hold on.

And you wonder…
if love is meant to hold,
why does it sometimes have to let go?