soul care

Feeding My Soul

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

There are moments when I notice a quiet kind of hunger.

Not the kind that needs to be rushed past or immediately filled —
but the kind that asks me to slow down and pay attention.

I’m learning that not every ache needs a distraction.
Not every discomfort needs to be quieted.
Some of it is simply an invitation to listen more closely.

There’s something grounding about letting myself feel that space.
About choosing stillness instead of noise.
Presence instead of autopilot.

In those moments, I’m reminded that my soul needs nourishment too.
That there’s a kind of sustaining that doesn’t come from fullness,
but from dependence.

And when I make room for that —
when I stop rushing to fill every gap —
I find that God meets me there.

“Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.”
— Matthew 4:4 (NIV)

The Still Places We’re Afraid to Sit In

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

There are quiet places that don’t feel peaceful at first.
They feel empty.
They feel unfamiliar.
They echo too much.

Sometimes it’s the stillness itself that feels loud —
not because it’s actually noisy,
but because we’ve been moving so fast for so long
that stopping feels like something might catch up with us.

Maybe it’s grief.
Maybe it’s fear.
Maybe it’s the simple ache of being alone with your thoughts —
without the to-do lists, the baby monitor, the scrolling, or the noise of a world that never stops.

But stillness is not punishment.
It’s invitation.

It’s where God gently meets us when we’re no longer outrunning Him.
Not with reprimand —
but with presence.

Because He doesn’t need our productivity.
He wants our proximity.

He just wants us close enough to hear Him when He whispers,
“I’m still here.”
“I’ve been here.”

And the stillness begins to soften.
The silence turns holy.
And the ache doesn’t disappear —
but it rests.

Not because it’s fixed,
but because it’s finally held.

“Be still, and know that I am God.”
Psalm 46:10 (NIV)