Against all odds.

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Hi my love. Gorsh, I’ve missed saying that so muchhh.

How are you? How have youu been? I’ve missed this space. I’ve missed you.

God knows I’ve written this letter in my head at least twenty times. Started it. Stopped it. Whispered it like a prayer I wasn’t sure I had the strength to complete.

I stepped away to rest. To breathe. To realign — not just with myself, but with God.
Yes, that was the plan.
But then… the days blurred. The pause stretched. Life moved faster than I could process. And before I knew it, the break I had intentionally taken had already ended, and I was still on the outside looking in.

So much has happened, my love. And I don’t even know where to begin, but I know I have to start somewhere.

Let me start with school — chaotic, consuming, character-building school. It’s been one of the most demanding seasons of my life. Not just academically, but emotionally. Spiritually. Physically. Every part of me has felt the stretch. I’ve been poured out and pressed down. There were days I felt like I was holding myself together with sheer will. Other days, not even that, just God keeping me sane.

And then came elections in my college.

I got involved — deeply involved — and my friend, Tami, ran for presidency. Against all odds, she won. Anyone who saw me on that election day would have thought I was the one running for a post. I still can’t fully put into words what it felt like to see all that happen. It was like watching prophecy come alive. Quietly, loudly. Completely aligned with Heaven’s plans, she made history. It taught me a lot — about persistence, about faith, and unfortunately, about how fickle people can be. How quickly they shift. How easily they forget.

But God? He never shifts. He never forgets. And He certainly never lies.

These past months have been a living testament that when God speaks, He means it. I’ve watched the prophetic unfold like petals — slowly, beautifully, even ugly sometimes, undeniably. The kind of things that make you stop mid-step and just whisper, “Wow. You really said that. And now... it’s here.” Let me not even talk about how God has been reassuring me that He truly sees me, even in the very mundane things.

My discernment has grown in ways I didn’t expect. It’s become so sharp, so deep, it almost scares me. And I confessed that to a friend weeks. Told her how terrifying it was to know things, to sense things before they happened.
She looked at me and said, “Don’t be scared. That’s not the right response to God’s gift. God gave you that for a reason.”

And I believed her.

But still — I’ve struggled.

I still hate how I can’t always speak up for myself. How words stay lodged in my throat when I should say something. How I shrink, even when I know better. I’ve had too many moments where I stood on the edge of burnout, where I wanted nothing more than to crumble. To just... stop. To not be strong. To not be needed. To not be seen. But in the midst of all that shrinking, I had so many “I deserve better than this” moments.

One time, I even had to tell myself,
“Guy, you’re slowly pushing 25 — you shouldn’t be caught dead having these kinds of arguments.” It was funny. And sad. And sobering.
But also… kind of beautiful because each time, I felt like I met a new version of myself — braver, softer, more grounded. At least now, I’m learning the only person I have to please or prove myself to is God.
I couldn’t help but be proud of the girl I’m becoming. Even in the mess. Especially in the mess.

And in all of that, I thought of you, my love. I thought of writing. I thought of this little space that has held my heart so gently. I wanted to send something. Anything. Even just to say, “I’m not okay, but I want to be.”
But the words wouldn’t come. Or maybe they came, and I just couldn’t trust them to carry me.

Thank you for waiting, regardless. Thank you for still being here. There are five more letters coming this June — some tender, some tear-stained, some full of the joy I’m still learning to let myself feel. But this? This one is simply a return. A homecoming.

I can’t promise I won’t go quiet again.
But I can promise I’m trying.
I still believe in this space.
I still believe in you.

All my love,
Chloe 🌷

PS: If this letter found you where you are, I’d love to hear from you. What were you up to while I was away? 💌