Last month, as I laced up my shoes for the 60-mile breast cancer walk in San Diego, I had no idea how much the weather would mirror the inner storms so many of us are walking through. The rain came in sideways on Day 2. The wind cut against our faces. At one point, officials literally told us to shelter in place because the conditions had become so severe. And yet, mile after mile, we kept going. Not because the skies cleared, but because we discovered something truer than the storm: we are stronger when we walk with the Lord and with wise, steady companions. Shoulder to shoulder.

And here’s something sacred I learned that day: I chose a sacred yes to keep walking through the storm, one slow, steady step at a time. Others around me chose a holy no, listening to their bodies, honoring their limits, and stepping out of the storm to rest. Both choices were good. Both were wise. Both were honored. Both are okay.

Strength isn’t measured by how far you push yourself in the storm, but by how deeply you listen to God and stay aligned with truth. We must learn to honor the person He created in us.

Friends, that weekend reminded me that healing rarely happens in sunshine alone. We had all kinds of weather! Healing, awareness, and community is often forged in the puddles, the mud, and the unexpected wind gusts that threaten to knock us off balance. And now, as I step into December, a month that can stir both hope and heartache, I’m thinking of each of you precious women who are asking honest questions about pain, relationships, and whether the storm inside you, or all around you will ever calm.

As I walked, and prayed, I kept thinking about the storms we carry inside, the ones no one can see on our faces, but God knows every detail of. Storms of confusion, rejection, abandonment, loneliness, disappointment, or the slow erosion of self-esteem. Storms that make us question our strength, our discernment, and sometimes even our hope.

And that’s why the question a reader sent in recently resonated with me so deeply. It’s the kind of question that isn’t just asked with the mind… it’s asked with a trembling heart. A heart longing for healing, clarity, and reassurance that God is still writing a good good story even when the middle feels so messy.

This Weeks Question:

“Knowing that this relationship is divinely guided by our Heavenly Father to be and to last, my question is: Can you truly heal from a vast amount of heartache—especially the kind that has crushed my self-esteem and sometimes shakes my hope in the healing process?”

LeAnne’s Response:

Beloved reader, thank you for the courage to voice this out loud. Let’s peel back a layer or two. You’re not just asking whether healing is possible. You’re asking something deeper… something sacred:

“If God brought this relationship into my life… why does it hurt so much?
And will I ever be whole again?”

Underneath your question, sister, are two tender, honest struggles that many women face:

1. You’re trying to reconcile God’s leading with someone else’s damaging behavior.

When you believe a relationship is “divinely guided to last,” it creates pressure:

• If God wanted this, shouldn’t it feel safer?
• If it’s meant to be, do I have to endure everything?
• If it was God’s plan, am I failing Him—or the relationship—if I set boundaries or step back?

Sometimes we call something “divinely guided” when, in reality, we deeply hoped for what the relationship could be. But our desire for something good is not the same as God directing us to stay in something harmful.

Here’s a truth Leslie teaches us often: God never ordains emotional destruction. He never blesses sin. He does not ask you to lose yourself to keep a relationship alive.

I’ve been pondering this for months as I’ve coached women into wholeness in Christ. Sometimes the divine guidance is not about the relationship lasting, but about you waking up, growing, seeing clearly, and returning to Him with a strengthened identity.

2. You’re grieving the part of you that was crushed.

Heartache that hits your self-esteem is not “ordinary pain.”

It’s identity pain.

It shakes the foundation of how you see God, yourself, and love.

When someone you love wounds you repeatedly, especially in ways that chip away at your worth, confidence, or sense of being cherished, it doesn’t just leave emotional bruises; it fractures identity. This kind of pain unravels the stories you once believed about yourself and about what love should look like. It creates a quiet ache in places you didn’t know could break: your ability to trust your voice, your capacity to feel safe in your own skin, your belief that you are worthy of tenderness, honesty, and care. When self-esteem collapses under the weight of another person’s patterns, it’s not weakness sister, it’s the natural result of carrying too much for too long. Your internal compass gets disrupted. What once felt clear now feels foggy. And the confusion can feel almost as painful as the hurt itself. This is why hope trembles, why healing feels slow, and why your heart needs more than time, it needs truth, safety, and the steady presence of God rebuilding what was torn down.

Healing from that kind of pain requires gentleness, truth-telling, boundaries, and a rebuilding of the places that were worn thin by confusion, fear, or trying too hard for too long.

So, can you truly heal?

Yes. Absolutely yes!

But not through endurance. Not by pretending. Not by absorbing more wounds to “prove” faithfulness.

Healing comes through:

• truth about what is happening
• boundaries that honor your God-given dignity
• community that helps steady your steps
• God’s presence, which restores what was crushed
• practices that rebuild identity, clarity, and confidence

Healing does not depend on him changing.
Healing does not depend on the relationship surviving.
Healing does not require the storm to stop.

Healing begins when you return to the truth of who you are in Christ—
His beloved daughter, not someone to be diminished, dismissed, or destroyed.

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”
Psalm 147:3 (NLT)

This verse doesn’t say the break was small. It doesn’t say you shouldn’t have felt it.
It simply says:
He heals.
He binds.

Can you hear it? He stays close.

Your healing is not a question for God. It is a promise from God.

Friend, pause and ask yourself:

• What part of me is asking to be healed right now?
• What belief about God or this relationship is keeping me stuck?
• What might it look like to let God restore me before we try to restore “us”?

Your healing is holy ground. And sometimes the most God-centered step you can take is to stop turning toward the storm and turn toward the One who walks with you in it. We would be honored to walk with you for the next six months in our group coaching program: Empowered to Change

Sisters, as you walk into the final days of this year, may you feel the steady companionship of the One who never leaves you to navigate your storms alone.May the Lord strengthen your weary places, calm the waves inside your chest, and remind you that your worth is not up for negotiation. May He restore what was crushed, revive what was dimmed, and renew what was taken.

And may you enter the new year not with fear, but with a fierce and gentle confidence that the God who walks with you in the rain will surely lead you into healing, hope, and holy wholeness. And you are stronger than you know, because He is faithful. You are stronger than the storm. Because He is. You are dearly loved, and cherished.

Where have you seen God strengthen you in a storm you never asked for?