(original publish date: April 27, 2025)
Five years divorced.
Three years sober.
Still Sober. Still Saved. Still Standing.
Some days I sit with those numbers and think, How did that much time pass? The divorce. The rock bottom. The surrender. The rebuilding. The transformation. All of it—just a blink ago in my mind.
And that’s when I started thinking about God’s timing.
We always hear things like, “God’s timing is perfect,” or “Be patient, He is working,” and we nod, smile, and try to wait. But waiting? Waiting can feel like silence. It can feel like nothing is happening. Like prayers are hitting the ceiling and falling right back down.
But what if that’s just our perception of time?
I read something recently about how time actually feels faster as we age. As children, our brains are still developing. Synapses take longer to fire. Time stretches out in slow motion. But as adults, those same neural pathways work faster, and our perception of time compresses. It’s not just nostalgia—it’s science. Our brains literally interpret time differently.
So if time is already slipping past us faster than we realize… imagine how time must look to God. He created time. He exists outside of it. To Him, our five-year heartbreak may feel like a blink. Our decade-long wilderness season? A pause between sentences.
The prayers we’ve been crying out for years might be in the process of being answered—we just can’t see it yet.
I used to pray for patience all the time. And I don’t mean in a peaceful, spiritual way—I mean in a Lord, don’t let me scream at this person in traffic way. Patience was not my gift. Growing up, I didn’t have the best model of emotional control. So I prayed.
And wouldn’t you know it… God answered.
Not with instant calm or a spa day or some magical peace.
He sent me a relationship that would stretch my patience (and sanity) to its limit—a relationship with a narcissistic ex (not my ex-husband). One that forced me to dig deep and find grace I didn’t know I had. I wouldn’t wish that experience on anyone, but I can say with certainty: it taught me more about patience, boundaries, and healing than anything else ever could.
And if I had still been drinking? I never would’ve made it out of it. Sobriety gave me the clarity and strength I needed to finally walk away. It gave me the backbone to start over and the peace to stay the course.
So when I say, Still Sober. Still Saved. Still Standing, know this:
I’m not standing because life has been easy.
I’m standing because I’ve learned how to get back up—again and again.
And maybe that’s what God’s timing is really about.
Not just the “when,” but the who we become while we wait.
Not just the miracle, but the muscle that forms in the silence.
Not just the outcome, but the character it builds in the meantime.
What feels like a delay may just be a divine blink.
So keep going.
Keep praying.
Stay sober.
Stay saved.
And keep standing.
soberandsavedjourney.com 