Long before The Peony Vale had a name, there was only ruin and a quiet hope that God could still bring beauty from what was lost.

In 2018, in the heart of a crushing and cruel wilderness, I wrote these words as both prayer and prophecy, believing that even in the ashes, redemption was already taking root.

They became a whisper of the beauty yet to come, for me and for those who would one day need to know they were not alone.

From the Ashes

I see you.

You,
curled up on the bathroom floor,
sobbing
in worthlessness and defeat.

You,
who feels crazy
and powerless,
abandoned
and destroyed.

You,
who didn’t see it coming
until it was already done.

You
are not crazy.

You
are not powerless.

You
are not alone.

Take my hand.

Rise up.
Rise up from the ashes
of defeat.

Rise up.
Bravely.
Shakily.

Rise up.

Rise up until you bloom.

Bloom from the ashes,
like the peony.

You’ve never known beauty
like that
of your own
resilience.

Rise up.