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Sometimes, the winds blow from every direction at once.
And in those moments, we all face a choice:
Will we let the winds carry us wherever they want?
Or will we stay rooted, stay steady, and keep moving forward?
Life has a way of throwing everything at us all at the same time.
When that happens, it can feel overwhelming.
It’s tempting to either fight back against every gust or collapse under the pressure.
But what if there’s a better way?
I’ve learned — sometimes the hard way — that trying to fight every storm only leaves me exhausted.
Instead, I’ve become someone who moves with the winds.
Not because I’m giving up, but because I’m choosing my peace over chaos.
I’m choosing to bend, not break.
Yes, some storms in life are unavoidable.
Pain will visit. Disappointment will come.
But I’ve learned that the best place to be during the storms of life is still.
Right now, I’m in one of those storms.
I just lost my job.
A new month has started, and the bills are coming in fast.
But even in the middle of all that pressure, I’m choosing to be still — because I believe I can make it through just one more month.
Right now, I feel alone.
Like I have no one to turn to.
But still, I choose to be still.
My romantic relationship is going haywire.
The peace I longed for feels so far away.
But for my own sanity, I’m choosing to be still.
For the past three years, I’ve dealt with mental and emotional abuse.
And there were days — plenty of them — when I was ready to throw down, to fight everybody and everything just to survive.
But now?
Now it feels so pointless to waste my energy that way.
Now, I’m choosing something better.
I’m choosing to settle myself within myself.
I’m choosing to be still.
Stillness doesn’t mean doing nothing.
It doesn’t mean you stop living or caring or moving.
It means you stay anchored.
You stay grounded in who you are and what you believe.
When I first heard the phrase “Be still,” I thought it meant standing still, frozen.
But it’s deeper than that.
Be still means keep your head clear.
It means trust yourself and your path.
It means believe, even when everything around you is swirling.
I’m teaching these lessons now to my nine-year-old son.
Maybe some would say nine is too young to be learning about struggle and resilience.
But I know firsthand — nine years old is when life starts to ask deeper questions of us.
Nine is not too early.
Nine is the perfect time to learn how to face the winds with courage and peace.
No matter what you’re going through, remember this:
Keep your faith.
Keep your peace.
And be still.