Lessons From My Wilderness Season

So. I’m a Christian. Have been since I was a child. I attended Christian schools, attend church regularly, read devotionals often, and pray daily. But lately, I’ve been having a lot of challenging conversations with God. I was angrily asking:

“When will it be my time?”
“Why not now?”
“Why them?”
“Why has it been so hard?”

For a long time, those questions had been ping ponging between my heart and soul. They were loud, constant, and a bit aggressive. The most frustrating part was that I wasn’t just sitting still, waiting for blessings to drop in my lap. I had been enduring.

Law school.
Three surgeries.
A husband who left me when Ava was two.
Financial strain.
Building a career from whatever was available.
Doing the quiet, hard work on my self-worth, voice, and boundaries.

All of it with as much grace as I could manage. And still, I felt behind and aggrieved. Even after I landed the “right” job and found the “perfect” man, it still felt like I was wandering, far from my goals, lost on some movie-“Wild”-like detour.

Through prayer, conversations at church, targeted devotionals, and some uncomfortable self-reflection, I began to see this “detour” differently. What I thought was punishment turned out to be preparation. This wilderness journey wasn’t wasted. It was producing.

Walking Through My Wilderness Journey

In law school, I was brought to my knees by a single exam. I did so poorly on my contracts final that I was placed in a remedial class the following semester. Humiliating doesn’t even begin to explain how it felt… for me, the overachiever. I can still remember sitting in that classroom, filled with shame and self-doubt, wondering if I even belonged in those prestigious halls.

Then came the surgeries. Three of them. Recovery was slow and uncomfortable, but what hurt more was the loneliness. I spent weeks sitting by myself on the couch, wrapped in blankets, binging TV reruns, and realizing not a single friend had come by. My then-husband barely seemed to notice or care. I wasn’t just trying to heal my body; I was carrying the weight of realizing how unsupported I really was.

When my marriage ended, Ava was just two years old. Shortly after my ex left, I checked my account and saw seven measly dollars. Seven! I had a toddler to provide for and no cushion to fall back on. I cried and then got it together because moms don’t get the luxury of falling apart forever.

Career-wise, survival meant taking whatever work I could find. At one point, I made so little that my car was nearly repossessed and my checking account was constantly overdrawn. Meanwhile, my peers were buying homes, taking vacations, and driving luxury cars. I was doing my best to keep the lights on and gas in the car, rather ashamed of how far behind I felt.

What I thought was punishment turned out to be preparation.

How the Wilderness Felt

Being in the wilderness felt like being behind and looked like being envious. It was all scrolling past photos of my friends’ luxury cars, beach vacations, and newly renovated kitchens on Instagram, wishing I could trade places for just one day.

And beneath the envy was doubt. Because maybe I would never get there. Maybe abundance wasn’t meant for me. Maybe the hard seasons weren’t building toward anything at all; I was just meant to struggle.

But then something shifted. I started having deeper conversations with those same peers I envied. And to my surprise, they envied some of what I had — the closeness of family, the pride of an accomplished child, the warmth of romantic love, and the kind of career impact that isn’t about status or paychecks but about legacy.

That realization was a turning point. I had been so focused on what I didn’t have that I nearly missed the value of what I did.

I had been so busy focusing on what I didn’t have that I almost missed the value of what I did.

The Wilderness As Preparation

When I looked back through scripture, I realized I wasn’t the first to wander through a wilderness.

• Hagar’s wilderness led her to the God who sees.

• Naomi’s wilderness returned her home to legacy.

• The woman at the well’s wilderness became the story that helped others believe.

My wilderness wasn’t wasted either. It fortified me in spirit, soul, and body. It clarified what mattered most on this life journey. It taught me how to produce, how to survive, how to rebuild. And maybe most importantly, it taught me to trust myself.

What I thought was a delay was actually a foundation. What I thought was punishment was preparation.

The wilderness isn’t wasted. It’s part of the story.

Moving Into the Valley

Now, I’m in what I believe is called “the valley.” It’s not quite the rockiness and uncertainty of the wilderness anymore, but not yet the glory and surplus of the mountaintop. For the first time in years, I’m walking slowly. I’m taking inventory of what’s already in my hands. I’m receiving what God has here, today, instead of straining toward tomorrow. I’m resting (really resting) for the first time in a long time.

That looks like freeing up my evenings instead of working around the clock. It looks like being mindful of my nutrition and movement. It looks like sitting down with my family, present instead of distracted. It looks like opening my hands to what’s coming instead of gripping so tightly to what’s not here yet.

The valley isn’t a detour either. It’s fertile ground. It’s the necessary place between struggle and victory, where roots sink deeper and strength is built for the successful climb ahead.

The valley isn’t stagnation. It’s the necessary rest stop before the climb.

Trusting the Timing

If you’re in your own wilderness or valley season, I want you to know this: you’re not disqualified. You’re not forgotten. You’re being prepared.

The wilderness is part of the story, not the end of it.

So here’s what I invite you to do:

• Journal about your own wilderness season. Where did it hurt the most? What did it teach you?

• Write down one way you can slow down and embrace your valley right now. Maybe it’s one less goal, one more meal with family, or one quiet prayer before bed.

• Remind yourself: the mountaintop will come when it’s supposed to.

If this resonates, leave an emoji 🤍 in the comments and share what season you’re in.