March 26th
Kids: With Daddy at the dentist
Classical music is playing in the background, so exhilarating that it feels like it runs through my veins, lifting my spirit slightly from a rough month of grief—a different type of grief, a grief for a living child. But this would be a subject for another time, another chapter.
Let’s get to what really matters.
I had an amazing night of sleep, thank the Lord, but I woke up with a sore body—maybe from carrying Gregg (3y) yesterday, which might have messed with my middle or lower back. Or perhaps it’s because my period cycle has completely thrown my body off this month since the 10th (it came super early). Besides extreme sensitivity to noise, sound, and light, plus throat, mouth, and gum inflammation, I think the worst symptom was definitely the headaches.
Could this be a side effect of my tubal ligation back in November 2022? It’s no longer just a hypothesis since an appointment two days ago, when a good doctor, with sharp questions, made me reconsider that theory. And yesterday, during a coaching therapy session on coping mechanisms, the idea gained even more strength. The session was meant to help me develop better coping strategies for dealing with the absence of my firstborn son for at least seven years now. Only God can truly understand the pain of longing for a deep relationship with a child, to the point of calling them “my own.”
Even my best coping mechanisms—hard work and rough humor, a classic Silvestre de Souza and Prudenciana approach—weren’t working. I knew I had to seek clinical help again because even reading the Bible in a year, first thing every morning or throughout the day, along with sporadic prayers, wasn’t enough. Though without them, I don’t know where I would be. Prayer and Scripture keep me grounded in my real purpose in life.
When nothing else matters, I learn that the only thing that truly makes sense in my life is God, and I want to give my life to Him every day. I try to give my best daily, and sometimes that’s why I worry so much—because I don’t know if I’m being genuine in it. But then I stop and think:
Is there any other way besides the hard way?
No, there isn’t. Not for me.
So how can I use all my pain, all my traumas, and all my personal struggles to actually do something meaningful—something profitable, something that ensures this pain is not wasted, but instead used for God’s glory? I love sharing this with my people.
Yesterday, through an app my coach therapist recommended, I discovered an almost unlimited amount of tools for coping with life. As I explored some of them this morning, one caught my attention. It reminded me of something that once excited me long ago—not something I found through an app, but something I truly believe was given to me through the Holy Spirit after a desperate prayer for help in the early years of my marriage and motherhood.
Modeling.
Modeling? What does that even mean?
In the secular world, modeling can be highly controversial. On one hand, you can gain fame and wealth, but on the other, it often comes at a high cost—losing freedom, and possibly facing exploitation. From what I know about the media, it’s not hard to reach that conclusion. I also knew a few people, though not many, who made it in that industry both here and in America. But when I had the opportunity to experience a little of that world, it didn’t seem attractive or meaningful to me in the long run. It wasn’t worth it. I was longing for something deeper.
It wasn’t until I became a wife and mother that I faced the challenges of a different kind of career—one more valuable than any I had known before. But surely, being a president, doctor, diplomat, global model, or “it girl” would bring more worldly recognition. Every career comes with its share of criticism and doubt from others. But being a wife and mother for the Kingdom? I didn’t expect to face rejection and a lack of encouragement—even from the very people who, at least on stage, claim to support this sacred calling. I felt rejection, disregard, and no support from those I admired the most.
And that’s okay. That’s actually good.
Because I don’t want to do this for people. I don’t want to do this only when it’s easy, or when I have support. I want to do it when I am invisible—so I can prove to myself that I am doing it for the right purpose, for the right Person. The only Person who truly matters to me in this life. The very One who gave His life for me and endured all kinds of pain so that I might have the chance to live forever, instead of dying justly for my own poor choices with the freedom He gave me.
Being a wife and a mother is an incredible career. It’s not without pain from the past, present, and future—just like any other career in this world. It may not receive the recognition it deserves, but it carries an eternal legacy and reward.
Do you believe this, my busy sister?
It’s okay if you don’t. Sometimes I doubt myself too. If not every day, then definitely on the days when my soul needs care the most.
That’s why I am here for you. I just want to show you how I have been redefining my pain with a purpose—to model for you that it is possible to go through it and still have meaning in life. That no pain you endure will be in vain, but it will work for your good if you are called by Him.
He will provide for you—strength, patience, and self-control—even when you feel like you’ve failed despite your best efforts.
I don’t want to tell you what to do. I just want to walk with you. I want to pray with you along the way, because that’s exactly what I needed on my worst days. Sometimes, I had my grandmother to pray for me. Other times, it was just my Bible and my knees. Sometimes, I had clinical support, and other times, something else. But through it all, I know God was there, watching every tear I shed, storing them in His bottle.
Your pain is not in vain, my dear sister.
I don’t know if you are grieving the loss of a child, a husband, or missing someone you’ve never even met. Maybe you feel like your life would be completely different if only you had known your father, or if your parents had never divorced, or if your husband would just sacrifice his will and agree to have another child with you—the one you’ve been longing for so long that it feels like joy or happiness would be impossible without it.
But can we have joy regardless of these situations? Even when life doesn’t give us what we believe would be “perfect” for worshiping God?
I hope and pray that, Lord willing, we will discover that together on this journey through Scripture.
V31 Ministry 