Be Still: Finding God’s Whisper in the Storm
Wins aren’t always loud or obvious. Sometimes they’re quiet reminders of God’s presence in the middle of our pain. This is the story of how being still became one of my greatest wins.
It wasn’t until adulthood that I was diagnosed with ADHD. Sadly, it’s just my brain that’s hyper—my body never got the memo (and honestly, I could use the urge to move more and burn some extra calories). My mind rarely stops; sometimes it feels like it’s running on hyperdrive. As I grew older, I began to learn how to calm my thoughts and intentionally embrace the quiet.
Somewhere between being an extrovert and learning to live with an overactive mind, I discovered the gift of stillness. I found that being quiet wasn’t empty—it was restorative. Psalm 46:10 became an anchor for me: “Be still and know that I am God.”
At first, “be still” was just a verse I leaned on in everyday moments of stress. I wrote it in my Bible, stamped it on the front of a journal, even made it my computer screensaver. I didn’t share it much with others—I just held onto it, relying on the peace it gave me. Being still became the way I learned to listen to God and talk with Him.
But then came the season when being still wasn’t optional—it was survival.
In 2016, when my sister Cathy passed away unexpectedly, I was devastated. She was my first friend, my confidant, my only sibling. Losing her at just 51 left me shocked, angry, and completely broken. While family and friends poured in with calls, texts, and visits, all I could manage was a simple, “Thank you.” I couldn’t speak, couldn’t socialize—I could only sit quietly on the couch with my husband nearby.
My mom, on the other hand, sprang into action. She poured herself into planning the service, determined to honor her oldest daughter in every detail. A few days before my sister’s memorial service, Mom walked into my house carrying a bag. From it, she pulled out a quilted throw she had bought on a nudge she couldn’t explain. She said she felt drawn to it and couldn’t leave the store without it.
When she unfolded it, I saw the words boldly printed across the fabric: “Be still and know that I am God.”
Tears filled my eyes. The verse I had quietly clung to for years now stretched out before me, undeniable. My mom had no idea how much it meant to me—but I knew immediately that God had whispered to her. He had hand-placed that reminder in my grief. It was His way of saying: You are not alone.
That throw has been with me ever since. It lay at the foot of my bed for years, a daily reminder of God’s presence. And when my mom passed away unexpectedly just four years later, I brought it to her service. Once again, God’s whisper came through the same words: Be still.
These last years have been heavy with grief, but also filled with peace. Over and over, I’ve seen God’s promises rise through the pain. On the darkest days, when I felt the most alone, His love has shown up in undeniable ways.
Now, when I take time to be still, I already know:
I am not alone.
I don’t have to fear.
God’s promises are true.
He has carried me through heartbreak, helped me heal, and even given me opportunities to grow in the midst of loss.
Being still has been my lifeline. And it’s a reminder of what Living for the Win is all about—not ignoring the hard things, but finding the wins in them. Wins don’t always look like celebrations. Sometimes they’re the quiet reminders that God is with us, carrying us, steadying us, whispering peace into our storm.
So if today feels overwhelming, I encourage you to pause. Be still. Look for the ways He’s near. Because even in loss, even in struggle, there are wins to be found. And you don’t have to search for them alone.