Not because I didn’t have words — but because sometimes life asks you to sit quietly and listen before you speak again.
This morning, before the day even really began, God showed up in a way so quiet and personal that I almost missed the weight of it.
My first phone call of the day was a routine work call. Nothing special. Nothing planned. Just another human on the other end of the line, frustrated and trying to get something done.
As we talked, the conversation drifted — as conversations sometimes do — into real life. Somewhere between problem-solving and small talk, I shared that I’m a breast cancer survivor.
She paused.
Then she told me she had recently lost her mother to breast cancer.
The air shifted. You know that feeling — when a moment suddenly feels heavier, softer, more sacred than it did a second before.
We talked for a bit. Not in a clinical way. Not in a “fix-it” way. Just two women acknowledging grief, survival, and the ache that lingers when cancer touches a family.
Before we hung up, she asked what I had done on my recent vacation. I laughed and told her the truth: I didn’t go anywhere. I stayed home and created. I poured myself into my Etsy shop, my blog, my art — what I half-jokingly called virtual therapy.
She asked if I would share my blog and shop with her.
So I did.
A little while later, I received an email from her.
She shared that she needed a moment after seeing the name of my store — because her mother’s name was Dixie.
She wrote that she felt God had brought our conversation into her life to reassure her that He’s got her mother — and that she’s okay.
I sat there stunned.
Because I didn’t plan that.
I didn’t manufacture that.
I didn’t even know.
I just showed up as myself.
And God — in His quiet, precise, deeply personal way — used something as simple as a name to speak comfort into a grieving daughter’s heart.
I’m sharing this not to say look what I did — because I didn’t do anything special.
I’m sharing it because it reminded me of something I think we all forget sometimes:
God doesn’t always shout.
Sometimes He whispers.
Sometimes He nudges.
Sometimes He reassures someone through a stranger who didn’t even know they were being used.
None of our stories are wasted.
None of our pain is pointless.
None of our creativity is random.
Even the things we think are small can become sacred in the right moment.
A Prayer for the Weary & the Grieving
Lord,
This prayer is for the women who are grieving cancer —
those walking through it,
those who survived it,
those who lost someone they loved,
and those who are simply carrying grief that doesn’t have a neat name.
Wrap them in Your comfort.
Hold them when the memories come in waves.
Give strength to tired bodies, peace to anxious minds, and hope to heavy hearts.
For the women who feel alone in their grief — remind them they are seen.
For the women who are tired of being “strong” — let them rest.
For the women who miss someone deeply — hold their loved ones close and reassure their hearts that nothing is lost to You.
Be near, God.
Be gentle.
Be steady.
Amen.
And to My New Friend
God bless you.
Hold on.
You are not alone — and you never have to be.
I’m always here.
Love & Blessings,
Maggs & Lincoln
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