Evidence Everywhere

There was a season I prayed in pieces,

faith held thin and often borrowed,

hope stitched with grace,

asking God to meet me quietly

in every empty, broken place.

Now I lift my eyes and realize—

I am standing in the amen,

surrounded by the answers

to prayers I once prayed then.

I see it in my marriage,

in the man who walks with God,

the very kind of love I asked for

when the road felt hard and long.

As Paul once wrote of love made pure,

steady, patient, kind, and true—

I see that scripture breathing now

in the life I live with you.

I see it in my body—

in healing earned through trust,

in chains that fell without a sound,

in mercy, not in must.

Like Paul, I’ve learned the secret place

where strength is born in need,

where weakness becomes the altar

and grace is all I need.

I see it in the peace I carry,

a peace the world can’t steal—

the kind Isaiah tried to name

but only God could seal.

Not loud, not rushed, not borrowed joy,

but settled, deep, and stayed—

the peace of Christ, as scripture says,

that guards me night and day.

I see it in my children—

in the small and sacred things,

in daily bread and answered prayers

wrapped up in ordinary scenes.

Like David sang of goodness sure

that follows all our days,

I turn around and there it is:

His mercy in my wake.

Some blessings thunder, split the sky,

some whisper as they land,

but every one bears Heaven’s mark,

the fingerprint of His hand.

So I pause, and I remember asking.

I pause, and I remember tears.

Because recognizing answered prayers

is a gift that sharpens sight and fear—

the holy kind that leads to praise.

It is a blessing—

to look around and see His grace,

to realize my life itself

has become a testimony of faith.

“I remember the days I prayed for this”

I hear so often and see the evidence of all God’s goodness unfold

Everywhere I look,

evidence remains:

I once prayed for this life…

and here I stand,

inside the answers,

calling them by name.