This morning, as the sun rose and the earth held its breath in stillness, I stepped out for my usual morning walk. It’s a sacred routine for me—a time to breathe, to pray, to think, and to prepare for the day ahead. But today, it wasn’t just a walk. It was a lesson. A deeply humbling, soul-shifting one.
As always, my daughter walked with me. Or rather, lagged behind me. From the moment we started, she trailed, slower than usual. I urged her gently at first.
“Come on, baby, keep up.”
But she didn’t. Her pace remained sluggish. She looked uncomfortable. Frustrated. I kept nudging. “Walk faster. Push yourself. You’re just not trying hard enough.”
She complained that her foot hurt. She clutched her chest at one point and mentioned her heart was hurting. But I brushed it off, thinking it was just the effects of exercise. I told her it was normal. “You’re fine,” I said. “You’re just tired. Push through it.”
We made it home. She sat down, removed her shoes… and I saw it.
Her big toe. Swollen. Bruised. A deep, discolored patch with the flesh curling over it. Possibly an ingrown nail. A real wound. A real reason for her struggle.
My heart dropped.
Misunderstood Pain
There I was, thinking I was teaching her resilience, when in reality, I was silencing her pain. And what struck me most wasn’t my guilt (though it was there), but her grit. She never gave up. She kept going. She pushed through anyway.
And isn’t that what so many of us do?
We limp through life with hidden wounds. Bruised emotions. Deep fatigue. Silent heartbreak. All while people around us tell us:
“You’re exaggerating.”
“You should be stronger.”
“You’re just being lazy.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you.”
They only see the surface. They judge the delay, not knowing the depth of the wound.
A Woman Named Hannah
This moment brought me to the story of Hannah in the Bible, found in 1 Samuel 1 (KJV). Hannah was barren and broken. She longed for a child. Year after year, she went to the temple and prayed, pouring out her soul to the Lord.
And in one of her most vulnerable moments, Eli, the priest, looked at her and assumed she was drunk:
“Now Hannah, she spake in her heart; only her lips moved, but her voice was not heard: therefore Eli thought she had been drunken.
And Eli said unto her, How long wilt thou be drunken? put away thy wine from thee.”
— 1 Samuel 1:13–14 (KJV)
Can you imagine?
You’re at your lowest. You’re praying through tears. Your heart is breaking. And the spiritual leader, someone meant to support and guide, accuses you.
But Hannah… didn’t argue. She responded with grace and clarity:
“And Hannah answered and said, No, my lord, I am a woman of a sorrowful spirit: I have drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but have poured out my soul before the Lord.”
— 1 Samuel 1:15 (KJV)
What Hannah and My Daughter Taught Me
Hannah’s story reminded me of my daughter this morning. She was hurting. But because she didn’t cry loud enough… I didn’t listen. I assumed. I misjudged. Just like Eli.
But Hannah didn’t quit praying. And my daughter didn’t quit walking.
That’s the kind of strength I want to hold onto—the strength to keep moving even when misunderstood, the grace to keep showing up even when unseen.
5 Things to Remember When You’re Misunderstood
- They Might Not See It, But God Does.
Eli didn’t see Hannah’s pain, but God did—and He answered. The world may not recognize your struggle, but heaven is watching. - Pain Doesn’t Always Roar.
It might whisper. Limp. Flinch. Or show up in the way you lag behind. But it’s real, and it deserves compassion. - Keep Praying. Keep Walking.
Even if no one validates your pain, keep moving. Deliverance often comes in the quiet consistency of faith. - Speak Up, Even If They Don’t Believe You.
Hannah clarified her reality. My daughter tried. Don’t let silence steal your truth. Use your voice—even when it trembles. - Grace Over Assumptions.
Let’s be more like Jesus and less like Eli—quick to listen, slow to assume, and gentle with those who suffer quietly.
Final Reflection: Who Are You in the Story?
Maybe you’re Hannah—pleading with God, heartbroken, judged, yet faithful.
Maybe you’re like my daughter—walking silently through pain, trying to keep up when every step hurts.
Or maybe—just maybe—you’re like me this morning: unaware, rushing ahead, pushing someone who is already carrying more than enough.
Wherever you find yourself… here’s my encouragement to you:
✨ Stay the course.
✨ Push through—but not in silence.
✨ Know when to rest.
✨ Know when to speak.
✨ And when others can’t see your pain, know that God always does. Are raw… push through anyway. The finish line isn’t for the fastest. It’s for the faithful.
My Books
The Girl Who Found Her Voice Through Therapy Series I
I really appreciate this article and really needed this today. Thank you my darling. Keep writing keep being an inspiration. Blessings to you 🙏🏾