The last seven years have taught me a lot about isolation.
There are times when we are isolated by others, times when we isolate ourselves, and even times when God uses isolation for a purpose.
When Covid hit the world in 2020, my family had already been walking through difficult seasons. Seasons that left me feeling isolated and alone, despite having people in my life who cared deeply. Cancer journeys, profound losses, and major life changes began in 2019 and continued for years afterward.
On top of that, God called our family to move to another church in 2022 after belonging to a strong church community for seventeen years—an act of obedience that required not only courage, but grief.
As expected, some people were hurt by our choice, but we knew we could not disobey God’s leading. In truth, we had already delayed that obedience for a couple of years, and we saw the consequences of that hesitation in quiet but unmistakable ways.
When we joined our new church community, we immediately felt God’s grace there. The church was, and still is, thriving. Every time we walked through the doors, we felt overwhelmed by God’s presence. We were surrounded by people who genuinely loved God and wanted to love others well.
Our new church was not “better” in the competitive way some people frame these things. It was better because it was where God placed us.
Yet obedience does not always come wrapped in immediate comfort.
I knew we had made the right decision. I didn’t want to go back. But I still grieved the loss of my former church community. I had served there faithfully for years. I had built deep relationships there. While I was sad that some ties were severed, I am so thankful that many remain strong to this day.
Still, despite getting to know wonderful people in our new church community, I had never felt more alone in my life.
We had walked a hard journey already:
My husband’s cancer
Losing my sister
Losing my brother-in-law
Caring for my nephew for nine months, then letting him go
My son joining the military
Our business closing its doors
And then, we left our church community, the family that had held us up for so long.
During that time, I started full-time work while continuing part-time work
and building my author platform late into the night.
I was exhausted. Lonely. Confused.
I obeyed God.
Why did everything still feel so hard?
So little by little, I started pulling away. Oh, I still went to church. I still served. I still loved being there. But inwardly, I had detached.
That is when the enemy stepped in in a major way.
He pulled relentlessly at my insecurities. He distorted my perspective in nearly every area of my life. Hope became difficult to see. Many situations started feeling heavy and dark through the lens I was viewing life through.
No, I wasn’t suicidal. But I was spiritually and emotionally vulnerable in ways I didn’t fully recognize at the time.
The enemy used people to deepen my isolation.
Then I isolated myself even more. It felt safer not to open myself up to vulnerability again. I had been hurt before, and I didn’t want to risk more pain, disappointment, or rejection.
Then one Sunday, my pastor spoke about how deeply we need one another—flaws and all. And for reasons I still struggle to explain, God used that moment to wake me up.
Not that the isolation vanished overnight. It didn’t.
But God began using that season instead of allowing it to consume me.
I began digging deeply into Scripture again. I slowly turned my focus upward and outward. I switched my focus from myself and back onto Jesus and the people around me.
My service changed.
My perspective changed.
The grief of everything that had happened still lingered, but my processing shifted. I began embracing the peace that comes from obedience, even when the road is painful.
During that difficult season, I wrote A Bridge to Die On.
In many ways, that story helped carry me through my own isolation and became part of my healing process.
I love that God often uses storytelling to heal what is broken inside me while also using those same stories in the lives of readers.
That is one reason I love what I do so much.
Isolation has a way of convincing us that we are alone in our struggles, that no one could possibly understand the weight we’re carrying or the questions we’re wrestling through. It tells us to stay quiet. To withdraw. To protect ourselves by keeping people at a distance.
But healing rarely grows in complete isolation.
Sometimes it begins with something small: a conversation, a prayer, a church family that patiently keeps showing up, or even a story that reminds us we are not the only ones fighting unseen battles.
I think that’s part of why stories matter so much to me. They remind us that other people have walked through darkness too. More importantly, they remind us that God is still present in those places, even when we struggle to feel Him.
Looking back now, I can see that God never abandoned me in that difficult season. Even in my isolation, He was gently drawing me back toward Himself, back toward community, and back toward healing.
And maybe you need that reminder too.
If you are in a season where you feel disconnected, unseen, exhausted, or spiritually worn thin, please know this: pulling away may feel safer for a while, but we were never meant to carry life alone.
I'm so grateful I don't have to.
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