When the Night Is Still, God Is Still at Work
As I write this, it’s 3:00 a.m. on December 31, 2025.
I don’t normally sleep great — and pregnancy certainly hasn’t improved that — but tonight my mind feels especially awake. It amazes me how the Lord prepares a mother’s body for parenthood in so many ways, including the interrupted sleep that begins long before a baby ever arrives. My rest tonight has been light, filled with moments of waking and drifting. And in that in-between space, a song has been playing on repeat in my mind — “It Is Well With My Soul.” You know when a song lives so deeply in your subconscious that it follows you even into sleep? That has been me tonight.
At some point, I reached for my phone and checked Facebook (my husband’s Facebook) — a rare thing for me, considering I don’t have social media. It’s a bit ironic that the Lord placed blogging on my heart when I don’t participate in most online spaces. But there it was: a post from a dear man in a support group we joined after receiving Gianna’s original diagnosis — a group for parents walking through encephalocele. I jumped out of bed, suddenly wide awake, my heart fully alert. And in that moment, it hit me — this is exactly why the Lord prompted me to write. My heart longs to love, to pray, and to support those who are walking through similar pain. God never wastes suffering. He desires to turn all of our pain into purpose — not by erasing it, but by redeeming it. By allowing us to sit with others in their sorrow and say, “You are not alone.”
Have you ever felt a strange sense of relief — even guilt — when you realize someone else understands your pain because they’ve lived it too? That’s not something to be ashamed of. It’s evidence of how God works through people. Ultimately, He draws us closer to Himself through pain — but often, He does that through human vessels willing to show up with compassion. The question that’s been stirring in my heart tonight is no longer if I’m willing to be used by God, but how. For me, that looks like opening my hands, living in obedience, and sharing our story honestly — trusting that God can work through even the hardest parts.
As I reflect on 2025, I am overwhelmed by the power of God’s hand at work — in my life, in my marriage, in the life of our unborn daughter Gianna, and in the lives of those around us. Three words keep surfacing again and again:
Splendor. Faithfulness. Redemption.
Splendor. Even in the unknown, God’s splendor is present — not always loud or obvious, but steady and real.
“I will speak of your splendor and glorious majesty and your wondrous works.”
— Psalm 145:5 (CSB)
Faithfulness. God’s faithfulness does not depend on our strength. He remains faithful even when we are weary, afraid, or unsure.
“If we are faithless, he remains faithful, for he cannot deny himself.”
— 2 Timothy 2:13 (CSB)
“LORD, your faithful love reaches to heaven, your faithfulness to the clouds.”
— Psalm 36:5 (CSB)
Redemption. Redemption is not just something God does after the pain — it’s something He weaves through it.
“In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace that he richly poured out on us with all wisdom and understanding.”
— Ephesians 1:7–9 (CSB)
Today’s verse in the Bible app felt like a “God stamp” over this night, this year, and this season:
“That light shines in the darkness, and yet the darkness did not overcome it.”
— John 1:5 (CSB)
Before turning the page on this year, I can’t help but pause and reflect on Christmas. This Christmas was my husband’s and my first married Christmas, and our first as a blended family. Our home was full — full of adult children, lots of love, good food, and more dogs than I can count. It was such a sweet gift to slow down and simply be together.
We spent most of our time gathered in the living room — the tree lit, movies playing, puzzles spread across the puzzle table, games in rotation, and the smell of pancakes filling the house. All three of our adult kids were home, and that alone felt like a miracle worth celebrating. We bundled up to drive around and look at Christmas lights as we sipped homemade hot chocolate and even made it out to Drive Shack on one of those unexpectedly warm December days.
In the middle of a year marked by uncertainty, this season was a tangible reminder of God’s faithfulness. To sit together, unhurried and surrounded by love, felt like grace. We were deeply blessed to celebrate not only Christmas, but the goodness of God woven throughout it.
As 2025 comes to a close, I don’t have everything figured out. But I do know this: God is still at work — in the quiet hours, in the waiting, in the messages that wake us at 3 a.m., and in the hearts willing to respond.
Our story is not over, but tonight, even in the stillness, it is well with my soul.
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