I don’t know how to quit. I am not made that way. I don’t give up.
I burrow into the earth and dig deeper roots.
I bend and dance, but through God’s grace, I mend—full of both fury and grace.

-Rhia Clay

Just a moment spent in prayer,
is worth more than all the wisdom this world can offer me.
Just a whisper from Jesus,
is enough to replenish,
to find the strength to finish my journey.

-Rhia Clay

Today I stood in the fire, my mind and heart torn with stress, my spirit weary.
And in one moment, someone said the one word I needed to hear, "God."
My weary mind, battling with PTSD and OCD, calmed instantly.
Your peace enveloped me and carried me above the waves, back to shelter, back to grace.
I have never asked for an easy life; I have asked for grace to persevere.
I have asked for grace to show others kindness when my flesh is anything but peaceful, when war has taken me over.
In your wisdom, you have given me grace.
Thank you isn't enough, though maybe if I leave that here on this page, perhaps tonight it will suffice.
-Rhia Clay

Contemplation

I find myself sitting here for a moment, gathering my thoughts like fragile treasures in my hands, collecting my heart as it stretches across the night sky. I carve out a sanctuary where I can discover a bit of solitude and tranquility. I inscribe my faith onto this page, creating a space for reflection.

I write a name that brings serenity to my weary mind—a name that envelops me in peace: God. This peace fortifies me against the relentless pressures of a life that sometimes feels foreign to me.

Even now, I struggle to fully understand how living with PTSD has transformed my mind. At times, I find clarity, while at other moments, simply existing feels overwhelming. Yet one truth remains clear: I have weathered storms before, and during those trials, God stood by my side. Even in uncharted territories, he is already there, waiting.

He was with me when my world felt like it was collapsing, bursting apart from within, and he remains with me now. So, I take a few more deep breaths, pondering the depth of his love for us. How can it be that he loves us so beyond measure? Yet, he does.

-Rhia Clay