It was not the June I planned.
I had hoped to share this earlier, to offer something hopeful, healing, and whole.
But life had other plans. A surgery. A sickle cell crisis. Two weeks in the hospital. Two more in a nursing home rehab facility.
Now, I’m home again, learning to walk all over again.
Literally.
Spiritually.
And somewhere in this slow return, I heard the whisper:
“I’m still here.”
When It’s Hard to Pray
Some days, I felt utterly disconnected from God, like He had gone silent when I needed Him most.
The physical pain was loud. Overwhelming.
There were moments when even prayer felt like too much.
Some days, all I could do was breathe through the pain.
Other days, it was just a gasp.
But in the silence, I began to learn something sacred:
Healing and hurting often hold hands.
Hope and pain are not enemies, they walk the same road.
And God?
He’s still in the room… even when it feels like I’m falling apart.
June’s Month Theme: Safety and PTSD Awareness
June was National Safety Month and PTSD Awareness Month—and this year, those themes hit close to home.
Because safety isn’t just about seatbelts and CPR.
It’s about emotional safety.
Spiritual safety.
The kind of safety that says:
“You’re allowed to be real here. To rest. To break without being abandoned.”
And PTSD?
It’s not always flashbacks or panic attacks.
Sometimes it’s silence.
Hypervigilance.
Shame.
That ever-present fear of not being safe, even in your own body.
I’ve lived there.
Even being placed in that nursing home, away from my boys and everything familiar, triggered a deep sense of helplessness and unworthiness. I felt like a burden. Unseen. Out of place.
The Shame We Don’t Speak Of
In that sterile room, something cracked open:
I realized I still carry shame about living with a chronic illness.
As if being sick somehow makes me less than.
As if trauma disqualifies me from leadership or strength.
As if healing must look polished to be legitimate.
But I’m done performing strength.
Done pretending wholeness when God is asking me to simply be held.
A Divine Disruption
But that’s not the whole truth.
One day, as I sat crying in that facility, an aide, who wasn’t even assigned to me, walked into my room like a stealth ninja.
She asked if I was a believer, then handed me her phone and said, “God wants you to read this.”
I hollered, not just because of the message, but because I was reminded once again:
God always sends someone when I’m at my worst. Always.
A divine reminder that He’s never far.
This Month’s Reflection
“I’m allowed to be healing and holy. Human and held. Broken and beloved.”
God isn’t waiting on your wholeness to use you.
He’s meeting you in your weakness, with love, not judgment.
Affirmation of the Month
“Even in the breaking, God is rebuilding me.”
Scripture
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” – Psalm 34:18
Reflection Prompts:
• Where have I been trying to “be strong” instead of being honest?
• What does safety look like in my body, mind, and spirit?
• How can I allow myself to receive God’s comfort—not just recite His promises?
Before you go:
Friend, this isn’t the post I expected to send, but maybe it’s the one someone needed.
Maybe you’re in that in-between place too:
Not where you were. Not quite where you want to be.
Trying to believe. Trying to breathe. Trying to trust.
If so - this letter is for you.
We don’t have to rush.
We don’t have to hide.
We just have to keep showing up, whispering yes, and trusting that God is holding every broken piece.
Reassign the shame of being in process, you’re exactly where God can use you most.
From my heart to yours,
Join me as we Journey 2 Free.
With faith and truth,
Larissa Rhone
Founder | Journey 2 Free
P.S.
What part of this letter spoke to you? Hit reply—I read every message.
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