One night, as she knelt by her bed, Debbie felt something shift within her. She wasn't sure if it was the result of her prayers or simply her body reaching its limit, but a quiet voice inside her whispered: Let go.
It wasn't a command to forget Pasco or pretend the pain didn't exist. It was a gentle nudge to release the tight grip she had on the outcome.
Faith, she realized, wasn't about certainty. It was about trusting that, no matter what happened, she would be okay.
With this newfound understanding, Debbie whispered one
"I'll keep going, God. Even if it hurts, I'll trust final prayer.in Your plan."
For the first time in weeks, she felt a flicker of hope—not for a reunion with Pasco, but for her own healing.