“Be still and know that I am God…”

It’s 3:51 a.m. The sun will be up soon.

As I lie awake in my English flat, my mind can’t help but wander. Just yesterday, I called my best friend to vent. I told her about how I was worried about my future, sad about lost friendships, and caught in a cycle of doubt and uncertainty.

She reassured me, as good friends do.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how faith and patience go hand and hand. If you are waiting in fear, you are not practicing patience nor building your faith. But when you are patient, it is a way of strengthening your faith.

It’s like telling God “I trust You enough to wait for the right door.”

I am in the thick of finishing my final journalism project for my master’s degree. The project is due next Friday, and I have quite a lot of work left. But I received a phone call.

Little did I know how life changing the phone call would be.

—

Just a few days earlier, I had an off-night at pick up basketball. None of my shots were falling. I felt groggy.

Not only that, but a conversation with a friend dug up some disappointment and sadness about the season. About how it went. About games we should have won and drama that we should not have experienced. It all left a sour taste in my mouth, really.

As much as I love the game, parts of it aren’t perfect. It’s like life in that way.

But for some reason, God keeps pulling me back.

—

I got my first offer. I GOT MY FIRST OFFER!

I am going to be a pro. I am going to be a PRO!

Two days and a pinch of faith can make all the difference.

More soon.

Thank You God.

-GB

It’s been a week since I played in the Pro Combine.

I’ve since spoken with three agents. I’ve seen real opportunities present themselves. I’m right there. I truly believe it.

Since last weekend, I moved back to England. I traveled 24 hours by myself. I traveled overnight on a plane. And I did my best to let my body recover from the weekend, which proved to be physically stressful.

We completed athletic testing last Saturday: jumping, running, pivoting as fast as we could. We went through a range of tests, and then we competed in a 1v1 challenge. Not the longest day, but a surprisingly tiring one. My body ached going into Sunday.

Then, I had the blessing of playing four games. Four games, and then a fifth, all-star game. I had the best time playing. I felt confident. I felt good.

And now, I don’t feel so good.

A week later, my knee suddenly hurts. Bad. It hurts to walk. It hurts to twist. It just hurts.

It isn’t anything out of the ordinary, I suppose. I actually believe it’s hurt worse than this before. But that’s not to discount this.

And in the back of my mind I just hear myself questioning if this dream is still on the table. Not just if it’s possible, but if it’s the right decision.

My body is valuable to me. But so is this game.

Continuing to play after not one, not two, but three knee surgeries was a choice I made. It’s not one that I regret, either.

But I do remember the doctor telling me that I already had arthritis at age 19. He told me that I was nearly bone on bone in some places. That was four years ago.

I’ve had the blessing and opportunity to play 3 more seasons since then. And those have been nothing short of strenuous on my body and knees.

But I just can’t help but want to check this one more goal off of my list of hoop dreams.

Then, as I was scrolling on Instagram tonight, I read this verse:

"But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” - Matthew 6:33

It took me back. It’s what pushed me to look in the mirror, to reflect, and to start writing this update. Because, if I’m really honest with myself, I don’t feel like I’ve put God at the center today.

I feel like I’ve been so caught up on how I FEEL, what it means for ME, what I should DO, who I should ASK, and the RIGHT course of action, that I dismissed God’s say in it all.

This verse brought me back.
God has the final say.
God has the power to make anything happen.
God is my why.
God controls my healing.
God is capable.
God has the answers.

I am reminded that I don’t have to do it on my own. I don’t.

And what a blessing that is.

The verse reads seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness. It commands us to seek first our Lord and the things that are pleasing to him. He wants us to walk with confidence and kindness. He wants us to remember his character, even amidst our human trials.

And then it goes on to say and all these things will be added to you. You will receive all of these things … all of the material assets, all of the success, all of the raises and promotions. The health. The freedom. The joy. All of it.

They come with ease when we live in presence and closeness to our Lord.

And so, even in the presence of physical pain, I surrender. I am throwing my hands up; I am throwing in the towel. I release control. I trust You, God. I love You, God. Lead me. <3

-GB

June 13-14, 2026

God delivered. Just like He always does.

I had the best time hooping at the Professional Combine last weekend. My faith is strong. I feel like I’ve proven it, not only to others, but to myself, that I belong to play at the next level.

I shot the lights out. I got to the rim. I got to my middy. I shot off the bounce, and off the catch. I got to my floater. I got steals and assists. I made solid decisions with the ball.

I have some real opportunities on the table.

And it was all God.

I trust Him with my next step, no matter what it is.
I pray for guidance along the way.
And I pray to glorify Him in all I do.

One step closer. <3

-GB

I play in the Pro Dreams Combine tomorrow and the next day. It’s chance to hoop, a chance to compete and a chance to show out.

Even though I have yet to step foot on the floor tomorrow, God has already delivered.

I had my first call with a professional club in a dream location earlier this week, and I have a good feeling about it. Whether or not it works out, that call has taken the pressure off of this weekend.

My prayer is for confidence and presence. And, most of all, my prayer is that God will lead me to exactly where I am supposed to be.

I have all that I need. I am excited for the future.

-GB

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Emunah: The Hebrew word for faith.

It’s more than a belief or simple trust. It’s a way of living. It’s the grounds for any decision we make, any action we take.

So here I am. It’s 2:35 a.m., and all my work for the day is done: both workouts, my university meetings and my work. I posted across my social media platforms, and even had time to enjoy a lovely Shabbat dinner with my Jewish community here in Nottingham.

So now it’s just me and my thoughts.

I’ve done a lot of reflection this week it seems. Walking to and from the bus stop or from the city or daydreaming during my workouts, I find myself having loads of passing thoughts. So many that it’s almost hard to bear. A sheer number of thoughts that would be hard to process on my own. And that’s where my faith comes in.

I’ve made the decision to pursue and commit to my dream of playing professional basketball.

I don’t know where I would play, when I would begin, or how I would get there.

All I know is what I do to prepare and how I show up for myself (and for God) each day.

I’ve been doing my best to watch what I eat. To work on my shot. To get in the weight room. To stay hydrated. To reach out to the contacts who might know how to help me on this journey.

I can’t deny that doubt and fear creeps in sometimes. I recognize that those emotions are human, and that it’s a choice where I place my focus.

I choose faith. I choose אֱמוּנָה.

My first agent call is tomorrow and the journey begins. Thank You Lord.

-GB

I often think that we are called to accomplish things that feel scary and “out of reach” because they require God. They require faith. They require believing without yet seeing. They require self love and self trust.

I think that’s what this last goal is for me. A bold, “scary” goal… but one that I know I can accomplish.

It’s strange because this is the first time in my life when basketball hasn’t been my primary focus. My Master’s program has been pushing me to grow and occupying a lot of my time and energy. I also have two part time jobs, both involving sports and content creation.

The common thread that runs through all of my goals? Creativity and storytelling.

It’s been my calling for years. Journalism and social media have just developed into the vessel through which I express myself (and give a voice to others).

I have no doubt that the path I am on career-wise is exactly where I am supposed to be.

And yet, I can’t shake the feeling of needing one more goal checked off of my vision board: playing professional basketball.

I say it’s to leverage myself later on, I say it’s for the experience, yata yata yata.

I believe what it really means is proving to the younger version of me that I can do it. When I really think about playing professionally, I think about doing it for young Grace.

I remember the eleven-year-old working on her footwork and ballhandling in my narrow, slanted driveway. I think about how I learned to adjust my shot depending on which uneven patch of grass in my front yard I was standing on. I think about the little girl smiling going into knee surgery. I think of the joy of hitting three-pointers in games. Of getting to the rim. Of finding my teammates in scoring positions. Of celebrations. Love. Passion.

This is my self-proclaimed proclammation to start encouraging myself more of the time. I am committed to stopping any self doubt or negative self talk in their tracks.

I am committed to involving God in my life and in my goals more of the time.

I hear God’s whispers over the noise of my own thoughts. That’s how I know this is the right path.

Talk soon.

-G

One thing I’ve learned to be true in recent months is the ol’ phrase “two things can be true at once.”

Accepting this as truth is one of the ways I’ve found peace with different, changing aspects of my life. It started with my senior year of basketball and all its blessings and all its woes. It continues as I step into the newest and brightest-feeling chapter of my life: the present.

I realized (after making it through) that my senior year was my hardest year of college basketball. Not only did my minutes dwindle compared to my junior year, but I felt constantly misunderstood. I felt constantly confused. My confidence suffered. My mental health declined. A person can only hold on so long. I almost fell apart.

-

There was a point in the season that I told my mom, between tears, that basketball had broken my heart more than any boy ever had, or ever would. My heart still breaks for that version of myself, for that time in my journey. It wasn’t easy.

Several times during my senior year, I felt personally attacked and targeted by others. That was a new experience for me, and it didn’t make sense. What hurt the most, amongst the lies and the cursing and the “jokes” from others, was that mistreatment from others influenced the way I felt toward myself. I don’t think I’ve felt that sad, angry and disappointed in a long time. Or maybe ever.

There were many moments when I felt that my preparation... the conditioning, the lifts and all the training I’d done to prepare for a great senior season.. went to waste. What was the point of putting my body through all of that? It felt pointless. I felt miserable. Although, in hindsight, I don’t accept that my work went to waste, it doesn’t negate how tough the situation felt in the moment.

-

I’m usually against dropping expectations. I’m one to want to work to meet the expectations I have for myself and the callings God places on my heart. I know what God can do. I feel that God wants us to show up for ourselves and others with expectancy. He wants us to believe for better. He wants us to walk by faith.

But, for the first time in my life, I saw why dropping expectations of others isn’t always a bad thing. It doesn’t—and didn’t—mean dropping expectations of myself. It meant not expecting others to react, respond and make decisions the way that I would. I believe this realization is a small lesson that I took away from this season. Thank You, God.

-

I reached the highest levels of humiliation and embarrassment and humility (if you want to even call it that) than I’ve ever reached before during this past season. I pray and vow to never return to such a low mental state, if I can help it. Especially not because of others’ decisions, for Pete’s sake.

Their decisions are uncontrollables. How I see myself and how I show up for myself are controllables. These factors, and strength from my God above, are where my strength and confidence come from. Not other people. Not how other people see me. Or even how they overlook me.

-

I learned a lot. And reflect, also, on the many blessings from this season that I couldn’t have seen any other way. Many of my teammates are lifelong friends now. They are beautiful people with beautiful souls. I was able to become a voice of encouragement for the underclassmen, without always realizing it. Many of my freshmen teammates’ words to me, both during and after the season, revealed a sense of deeper meaning and purpose behind the painful experiences I endured this season. Perhaps these blessings prove that God is still good. Perhaps I proved, through my positive attitude and daily choices, that you can still show up for yourself and others—including those who have mistreated you—even if your situation isn’t ideal. Who knows, maybe I’ll be a voice to someone down the road who needs it.

-

So, yes. Two things can be true at once. You can feel both extremely hurt and genuinely grateful. You can feel both doubtful about a situation and hopeful for a better one in the future. You can feel angry toward your environment and appreciative of the friendships you’re making in the process.

Showing myself a more tender sense of grace and understanding is the biggest blessing from this season of my life. I trust God has a bigger purpose for it all. I mean for it ALL. But, as I transition into my next phase of life, I recognize that the twists and turns will never be inherently “good” or “bad.”

There is opportunity and blessings in everything. It is also okay to feel upset sometimes. That is life. That is human.

I pray for everything in due time. I pray for everything on God’s time.

That’s all for now. Love you all.

-GB

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I’m the first to argue for the importance of creativity and creative outlets. I’ve written numerous articles about creativity as it relates to sports, and I’ve embraced it almost regularly into my lifestyle.

Almost.

There’s parts of me—big sections of my brain, heart, and soul—that feel attached to the so-called “rat race.” Ew, right.

And yet, something about this race is enticing. Is it the competitor in me? Is it my deep, inner passion that is completely genuine and difficult to contain? Is it a subconscious belief that there are “deadlines” for when I’m supposed to hit certain milestones?

I feel a deep calling on my life. A God calling. I won’t deny it.

And yet, this calling has multiple folds, multiple dimensions. I don’t feel confined to a box. I want to be an artist. I want to be a pro athlete. I want to grow my podcast. I want to be a writer. A journalist. A speaker. I want to mentor young girls. I want to write a book. The list goes on.

The issue lies in my capacity. A one-woman show is powerful; don’t get me wrong. But needing rest, feeling overwhelmed, and burning out are all human emotions and experiences. And, within my pursuits to become… to evolve… to develop into this art-making, basketball-playing, book-writing, podcast-hosting, news-reporting woman, is a strong pull to match my work ethic to my goals. To write my a** off. To record content and post it every day. To make high-quality social media content to grow my brand. To paint and draw more. To find several income streams to fund my visions for the future. To do my absolute best at school and within my sport. To pray three to five times a day… at least. To read. To make myself wholesome, healthy meals each day. To stay organized and “on top of it.” To connect with my family often. To build and maintain strong friendships. To serve the community. To learn each day about how to grow a brand and business. To do, do, do, do, do, do.

I want to do all these things. Truly. Except, as I try to accomplish everything all at once, I inevitably feel overwhelmed sometimes. I inevitably feel swarmed by endless tasks, tasks that I assigned to myself.

Is this inclination for “productivity” bad? No. Absolutely not. I think it separates me and helps me find like-minded people. I love the way I am, the way I think. Without my work ethic, I wouldn’t be anywhere close to where I am today: in Chicago, pursuing both collegiate basketball and the degree program of my dreams.

Yet, something about it doesn’t feel healthy. There are points in my day when I feel my energy dipping, and I power through (is this the athlete in me, too?). There are times when I’ve experienced anxiety attacks from racing thoughts in my head. When the moving parts don’t assemble neatly into my schedule, I fall apart. When I attempt to focus on too many things at once, I become forgetful.

A voice from the Man above reminds me that I am only human. I am not a machine. He reminds me of the meaning and importance of the Sabbath day. Of rest. Of disconnecting and disengaging.

I even recognize this for myself. For my listeners and readers and followers. And, yet, here I was 30 minutes ago, laboring away for the podcast despite creeping feelings of tiredness and burnout. (Hence, why I am here.)

For me, writing is a form of creativity, much like drawing, painting, and poetry. This, right here, is a form of therapy for me. This is me connecting with God… but also with my inner self. She needs to be heard more often than I allow her to speak, I’m afraid.

This writing, this creating… is the time when I can breathe.

I shut my planner, my notebook, my folder. I closed my tabs for school and podcasting and the like. And I allowed myself to melt into the words that so naturally pour from my spirit.

Society says hard work wins.

I say showing up for yourself wins.

-

Hope this helps.

Love y’all.

-G

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How does that phrase go?

“You’re always exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

Yeah, that one. Perhaps comforting to hear, especially when life tugs on the fibers of comfort and familiarity. Perhaps a reassuring belief, especially amidst challenges that seem to contradict a plan that once appeared clear and straightforward.

Alone, though, the phrase may lead to disappointment; it may lead dreamers to accept life circumstances that do not align with goals, intentions, and prayers. I think the phrase needs a follow-up:

“Where you are is not where you’re meant to stay.”

Luckily for us, both can be true.

Being where you’re supposed to be can be the very place that indicates the need for change. It can be a place that stretches you to grow, it can be a place that uproots you. It can be a place that motivates you to plant new seeds in new gardens.

Pain leads to creativity. Heartbreak leads to strength and growth. Letdown leads to learning. Changing. Appreciating.

So, if anyone else is in a season that does not make sense, let this be your reminder that lighter days are coming. The light will return again. It’s all working together for your good. Where you are is not where you are meant to be forever.

With love,

G

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I hear smooth jazz wafting toward me, in the northern-most part of my room. That is, away from the window that opens to the downtown Chicago air.

Not too cold on this night, which, as us midwesterners know, is a blessing in and of itself. Thirty-seven degrees to be exact. I don’t know if I’m considered a midwesterner after my relatively brief, year-and-a-half stint here. But that’s besides the point.

The point is this music. So beautiful, so unexpected. Perhaps not too unexpected in a city like Chicago, though. You’d be surprised at some of the sounds I hear living here: protesters’ voices projected through megaphones, shouts of commotion from random parades and celebrations, tailgates for Bears games, horns, the consistent rolling of the “L” train, and the sirens. Oh, the sirens.

Maybe, I thought, a musician is playing on the street corner. That would be something new. Not that new is surprising—just refreshing.

And then I realized. My iPhone, in its purpleish-blue case, resting on my desk. It sat atop my many journals, amongst my chargers and my books scattered across the tawny, faux wood.

As I approached the desk, I realized that I was the culprit for the music. I must have played peaceful music on Apple Music before starting my night routine. Not necessarily out of character for me, but still.

The realization spun me deeper into my own thoughts. The world outside was not responsible for the joy and peace that washed over me. I created this peace. God created this peace.

And, despite where I venture in this life, this peace is something that never leaves—even in the absence of my music, iPhone, herbal tea, and even if I am stripped of my essential oils, books, and candles—peace remains.

Peace is something I create. Peace is something God creates within me.

—GB

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I woke up yesterday.

I propped myself up to write in my brown, leather journal— my journal dedicated to the Lord. I thanked Him for being alive. I thanked Him for breath and health. I thanked Him for another day, another opportunity to experience His love and blessings.

It’s Friday, April 19. We don’t usually have workouts on Fridays during the postseason, and we never have classes on Fridays. And, lucky for me, the Goodman Center, our gymnasium here at Roosevelt University, was not reserved by any other teams.

I had it all to myself.

I stepped down from my twin XL bed, which is slightly elevated by my foam mattress cover. And I felt a twinge in my right knee. A catching. A sharp pain— one that has become more familiar in the last couple of months.

I bent my leg back and forth, stretching my calf and hamstring. I waited for the inevitable pop, the one that enabled me to step again.

I proceeded to stretch and roll out the muscles in my feet, wash and moisturize my face, brush my teeth and slick back my dark, brown hair.

I grabbed my overnight oats out of the fridge— the same, reliable breakfast I’d been eating for two years. Then I made my bed, grabbed my scooter, and headed out the door.

The thing about this game, this game called life, is that it’s ever-changing. It evolves with us. It molds us. It shapes us. And, in its changing seasons, sometimes we are forced to shed old skin. Old layers. Old thoughts. Old habits and beliefs.

I think I’ve noticed a sort of attachment to these old layers. After all, they kept me safe. They kept me comfortable. Subconsciously, they feel like a part of me, a part of my identity.

The past week threw my emotional state off kilter. I lost my footing. I lost my groundedness. I allowed myself to wallow in my anger and sadness toward people and toward the world.

And I hid it all. I talked to God, but I allowed myself to be distracted by worldly things. By music. By social media. By talking about irrelevant things. By overeating and overworking.

On top of that, I’d left the gym mad the day before. Because of missed shots. Because of losses in pickup games. Because of my passion for the game, and my subsequent frustration for not meeting my own, self-imposed standards for performance.

And so, I stepped into the empty Goodman Center gym, I carried all these thoughts with me. And, on top of the physical pain— the soreness and fatigue in my legs and knees— these emotional burdens weighed me down.

I was there. I was shooting. I was doing all I deemed was right and good— getting extra reps and doing what got me here. But I felt angry, emotional, and empty in my heart.

And so I made a phone call to Coach John Williams, who is one of my balcony people (if you don’t know what this is, see Find your Balcony People) as well as my basketball trainer of seven years. For some reason, he is one of the people in my life who seems to always know what to say.

And, sometime during that 58-minute call, during which many self-love and worthiness topics were addressed, a question arose.

“Grace, I have a question for you. Are you having fun?”

I hesitated. I justified that I was doing good things, “right things.” But, to my surprise, the answer to that question was far from a yes.

A wave of sadness arose. Shame, even.

Why was that? Logically, if there was ever a time to let go, to just play, these postseason workouts and pickup runs were certainly it.

So we talked through it. We talked about this self-imposed pressure, this yearning to be perfect. And, eventually, it came back to my workout. My current workout in the quiet, peaceful gym.

And, during that conversation, I realized that coming to work out was more than a response. It was a form of showing up for myself. It was a form of unconditional self-love.

I was reminded that I’d already shown up for myself by getting dressed. By praying. By eating quality foods.

I showed up for myself by paying attention to my body—all its aches and pains included. By listening to my body to the best I could.

By walking to the Goodman, grabbing a basketball, and getting to work.

Aside from my emotions and my anger about the past, regardless of the circumstances, despite the yesterdays and the tomorrows, and indifferent to the eventual results, which always come in due time, I showed up for Grace.

Now, perhaps, what Grace needed, was a little grace. In every sense of the word.

—

The process stays consistent…

When I had my best games last season, I showed up the next day to practice—on time and ready to work. I still spent extra time in the gym. I kept the same habits throughout the good days and the bad days.

And now, in this transitional period between the season and the summer, my habit of showing up for myself remains.

Maybe it looks like making a warm cup of tea before bed.

Maybe it looks like cooking my favorite meal.

Maybe it looks like finding gaps to get my extra reps in at the gym, even when it’s not convenient or cute.

Perhaps it looks like disconnecting from social media; oftentimes, it looks like consciously letting people’s opinions go in one ear and out the other.

Often it looks like more time with God— more time in prayer.

More faith. More love. More trust and patience.

—

Every athletic pursuit involves showing up. And, as I realized after my phone call, showing up takes the pressure off of the result. It eliminates the possibility of regret.

By showing up, we put the reins in God’s hands—right where they should be. Right where I wanted and needed them to be.

No matter the athletic commitment, the reward takes time and patience.

What’s the use if we do not savor it along the way? If we don’t take the time to soak it all in—all the light, all the dark, and all the shades in between.

Even after the ball stops bouncing and I take a different path, basketball has taught me how to show up for myself. It’s a lesson that I learned and continue to relearn. And it is a lesson that will carry me forward— one that will keep my heart, mind, and body on track all the days of my life.

“Showing up” does not fall within criteria nor tangible bounds. It looks different each day. It looks different for each individual. It varies in each season. It evolves as we evolve.

So, as I reflect on last week, last month, last season, last year, and I appreciate how much I’ve shown up for myself. And I give my thanks to basketball. To my balcony people. To my basement people. To the believers and nonbelievers. And, ultimately, to God above.

And, before I laid my head down to sleep, I spent time, again, at my desk— this time illuminated not by the sun peaking through the blinds, but by golden light radiating from my lamp. I wrote in my journal, and I typed on my laptop. I expressed my thoughts and prayers in words. I immersed myself in the rhythm of my calming Apple Music playlist, with music from soul artists, like Cleo Sol and Snoh Alegra.

And as I wound up for bed, I bathed in the gratitude of all that was. What’s going to be, is going to be, right? Eventually.

-G

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Perhaps I notice the growth in how I am able to breathe in air that would have suffocated me years ago, or maybe even months ago. It’s in how my heart steadily gravitates back to what’s good. It’s in how my hope remains.

The growth shows in the “even if” and “even though” typa faith that resonates deep in my spirit. Consistent. Unwavering.

It’s in the way that I can recognize ways that I might have been treated poorly. I can feel the hurt, I can allow myself to cry. But with less shame this time. More love. More understanding. More patience.

Growth in the way that, even when chaos surrounds me, I hear God. His whispers echo in my spirit.

It’s in the way that I still believe. It’s in the way I know what I deserve, and I am not willing to settle. It’s in the grace I’ve shown myself as I walk through one of the hardest seasons in my life.

Growth in how I search for and expect the good, despite what I see.

Growth in how I do not return negative energy to people.

Growth in how I show up for others and myself, even when my heart is hurting.

Growth in how I speak positively, but do not force myself to bottle up the negative.

Growth in how I discern when to speak up, and when to detach.

Growth in recognizing that not everyone is “for me.” Growth in trying to be understood, less. Growth in being okay with being talked about and judged.

Growth in how I protect my heart, but stay open to love. Growth in how I trust in my judgment, despite memories of past betrayals.

Growth in how I choose, again and again, to trust. And to put action behind my faith.

Growth in how I smile as the rain pours down.

It’s in every loss. It’s in every victory. Most of all, growth is in my surrender.

So, cheers to growth. Difficult, gut-wrenching, tear-jerking, pain-inducing growth.

It’s so beautiful, though, isn’t it?

It’s all a part of the process. I trust myself. I trust God. I am grateful.

-G

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Somewhere among the swarming thoughts that feel especially hectic these days is a yearning: a deep desire to write. A whisper to keep going. To keep praying. To keep believing.

Write for what, exactly? I don’t know. And for who? Perhaps for others. Probably more for me, though.

All these papers are on my to-do list… three for my internship, and eight for my fall semester classes. And yet, here I am. On substack. Writing to an audience of two or three, if we’re being generous.

Writing feels like a lifeline to me sometimes. I think it’s the way I feel most understood and the most connected to God. Perhaps it’s how I understand myself better, too. And in times like these, when situations don’t align with what I envisioned, qualities like self-love, self-compassion, and self-understanding (not sure if this is a term, but it is now..) are essential. A faithful, fighting spirit is necessary. All these qualities, along with a deep knowing of and connection to the Lord.

Anyways…

The title “Keep ya head, G” felt fitting for this article because that’s where I am at: fighting to stay positive. Fighting to stay encouraged. Fighting to keep my joy for the game of basketball. Fighting to believe in myself deeper—enough to change the circumstances. Fighting to develop a deep respect and love for myself—a sense of confidence and certainty—that does not waver.

And though, these feels like, arguably, the hardest season of my LIFE, I feel more sure of and confident of myself that I’ve ever been. I keep questioning that statement in my head… voices ask “are you sure?” and say “that can’t be.” But truly, that’s how I feel. Every time I ask myself if I’m sure, my mind comes back with a resounding “yes.”

Which is rather interesting. Beautiful, even.

So, in this season, as I seek understanding… but moreso, as I seek God, I will keep my head up. I will keep going. I am okay, and I know it’s worked out. I know that what is done in the dark will eventually come to light. I know that God is working for me.

Happy thanksgiving. <3

-GB

12:47 a.m.

Stressed.

Many of us feel it— that tension. The resistance and the emotion, which often weighs heavy on weary shoulders.

Test.

Perhaps it is a test. Of endurance, of morality. Of discernment. Of faith and belief.

Best.

Maybe you’re doing all the right things. The struggle often feels more exhausting when you are fully in it—when you haven’t thrown in the towel, when you’re giving all you’ve got.

Rest.

Laying your head down is proven, at times, to be more difficult than the work itself. Surrendering is an act of radical faith.

Blessed.

Above all, remember that you are blessed. No matter how it looks, no matter how it feels—God is with you.

-G

Maybe it’s not a coincidence that the word still has multiple meanings.

My last post was called “Keep walking.” It was about walking with the Lord—taking those steps—even when your feet may feel heavy or your spirit may feel tired.

I think that writing will always be a safe place to me. Like connecting with nature, it makes me feel extremely close to God. Exactly where I want to be, especially in trying times. And so, I think this is exactly where I want to be right now. Writing away, feet outstretched on this bus seat, noise-cancelling headphones in, worship music helping me to keep my mind on Him.

Anyways.. back to the word still.

I think sometimes, as a believer, I have gut feelings when I feel things are about to turn around for good. If I just hope a little longer. If I just keep working. Believing. Dare I say, walking.

Well, I felt like that about today’s game. I felt it a little about the last game too. And now, as I sit on this bus after the game,“things” still feel wrong, unfair, confusing, and frustrating.

I work hard. I mean, really hard. I know what I contribute to the team. I know that I am talented. I know that I have what it takes. Most of all, I know what God promised. I hear his whisper, even amidst the outside noise. I hear Him over the internal voices, too.

So what?

What am I getting at here?

My mind goes to “Why is it still not working out? Why am I still not where I want to be? Why am I still facing these difficulties? Why does it still feel like a struggle? Why do things not align with the work I put in this summer, and up to this point.. still?” I feel like I was supposed to have my ‘breakthrough’ by now, and yet, I’m still here.

And then, God says:

“Be still.”

Psalm 46:10. Continued… “Be still, and know that I am God.”

Stillness here doesn’t mean giving up. It means not panicking. It means remembering that God is still on the throne. It means that He is still sovereign. It means staying in peace, even when what I see temps me to blow up in anger, sadness, worry, doubt, fear, anxiety, etc. etc.

Like a wave, I feel the peace of God wash over me in these moments. Times when I should be freaking out, I feel okay. For moments like these, okay is enough.

Being still also means releasing control.

Lately I’ve told myself that I control my confidence. I control my energy. I control the work that I put in. I control my decision to do the right thing, even when the wrong thing is happening. But besides that, I surrender. I am only human.

Right now, I feel tired. I wish that things went differently tonight. I wish that things felt better. And at the same time, I have a deep knowing that God is teaching me and molding me. Someway, somehow.

I am grateful. I am grateful for my body and my heart. I am grateful for endurance—something that has been tested time and time again, and only gets stronger. I am grateful for my love of the game and all the opportunities it’s given me. I am grateful for the chance to build up myself and my confidence. I am grateful for my support system, for my balcony people. I realize that God and my true family/friends are all I need. I am grateful that I have what it takes. I am grateful that things can turn around. I am grateful that, if they don’t, God has something better in store.

I also know that He sees my heart. He sees me in every moment. He knows what I want. He will bring my heart’s desires to pass when it’s the right time. And, again, if not, I trust that He has better in store.

I am doing my best. I will not quit. I will push through. I will trust.

I will be still.

-GB

Oh, and last thing. I saw a post right before writing this. It was one of the first posts that popped up on my Instagram feed, by RealTalkKim:

“The devil is trying to frustrate you becuase he knows God’s going to help you win this battle. Keep going”

I don’t have much to add, but the post resonated with me tonight. Life is not easy. People have shown me their true colors. I’ve been lied to and mistreated. I don’t love how things feel and look.

And yet, I remember to smile… becuase I know God is still good.

Keep walking.

It’ll get better. Clearer. Brighter.

Don’t mind those voices. You know, the ones that come. The ones that speak defeat. The ones that try to deter you. And also, the ones that tell you it does not matter.

It does matter. It matters because God put you in this place for a reason. It matters because you care. And it sucks because it feels unfair.

Keep walking.

Step by step, He's right beside you. He called you. He equipped you.

The road ahead may look grim, and the walls around you dark. Your head might hurt from beating it against what seems to be the same wall. Over and over and over.

But what does He say?

“For there is nothing covered, that shall not be revealed; neither hid, that shall not be known.”

Another translation reads:

“What is done in the dark will come to light.”

What is done in the MF DARK will come to LIGHT!

In the Bible, this verse refers to actions people do behind others backs, or things that people do sneakily (with hope that others will not find out). How I perceive it, however, is a hope cry. To me, it serves as reassurance that God will make my path straight. That all the work, all the sacrifices, and the many, many tears will eventually come to light. On His timing. Eventually.

EVENTUALLY.

You might not see it, but God says it’s BOUND to happen. It’s inevitable. It’s not over, not by any means. What does scripture read? … “ALL things God works for the good of those who love him.”

Pay no mind to the voices that sound like support, but that discourage you. The ones that smile and proceed to pray on your downfall. The people that, no matter what you do, will never be for you. Pay NO MIND!

"There is no wisdom, no insight, no plan that can succeed against the Lord."

People can come against you, and they can temporarily prevail. They can attempt to discourage you and convince you of your worthlessness. You might feel the pain of embarrassment and bruised pride, especially when life hits you in front of those that seem to “matter.” Let me—let us—remember that God has the final say.

"I sought the Lord, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears. Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame."

God is a deliverer. He protects. He shields us from the attacks of the enemy. He helps us through the unfair situation, and he turns it around in perfect timing.

And, so, in this place, all we can do is walk. Pray. Believe. Hope for better.

God is faithful.

—

I know that this is a disorganized dump of thoughts and declarations and reminders .. they’re the ones weighing heavy on my heart, in this moment, when nothing seems to make sense.

I remember I serve a just God. A loving God. A God that protects me from hurt, harm, and danger. A God that’s seen every workout, every tear, every moment.

And so, I will keep walking.

— G

I have a research assignment due tomorrow. It is getting late, and I have morning practice. But the urge to write, to express myself without restrictions, can only be withheld for so long. So, here we are.

This summer was one of the most transformative summers of my life. On all fronts: in terms of physical abilities, skill, leadership, and quality time with family. It was a summer of investing and pouring into myself; it was a season of learning valuable lessons about myself and how to care for myself with intention, love, and thoughtfulness.

Returning back to school in Chicago was not as much of a “shock” as it was last year. I feel settled and comfortable here, at least in terms of my living situation. Something does not feel aligned yet though. I feel hesitant, like something is holding me back from moving in a manner that screams “I fully trust myself.”

And, with that, comes an onslaught of shame and fear and anxiety and doubt. Icky feelings for sure. They’re the type of emotions that make you ask questions. Not the productive ones that say “how can I learn from this for the future?” but rather the ones that ask “why?” The questions with nonexistant answers—the ones that make you question the situation, but also your ability to deal with it.

Yet, amongst the waves of doubt and the accompanying shame for such thoughts, a whisper:

“Fear not.”

The whisper arrives in every moment. Perhaps it never leaves.

It means that even when I don’t feel 100% in energy or belief, I do not have to resort to the old thought pattern of worry, worry, worry, worry. And, if I do need to take the time to explore these “negative” thoughts, it’s the reassurance that they will dissolve in the tides of my faith.

I don’t know the objective of this article. I suppose it’s a declaration of sorts. It’s me saying “Hey, God, I am committing to this trust thing. For real this time.” It’s a statement of faith. And it’s also me revealing my vulnerable, human thoughts and feelings along this journey. It’s an act of recognition that I can lean into my faith and courage. It’s a statement of gratitude for opportunities to demonstrate my faith and to grow my thoughts.

Thank You God. I trust You. I will fear not.

This is a place to drop reviews and feedback about art/stationary you have received.

Two months.

That’s how long it took for the Roosevelt Lakers Softball Team to shift from a team with a 3-12 record, which started on Feb. 9, to the number one team in the conference – just two months.

The Lakers’ sweep against Judson on Apr. 13 moved them up in the ranks, as the Lakers slipped to the top spot with a striking 75%-win percentage in conference play.

Anaisa Lozada, a veteran and senior shortstop from Streamwood, Illinois, emphasized the importance of mentality after enduring the tough stretch of games at the beginning of the season.

“It’s definitely our mindset,” she said. “That means not letting up, and not giving up in the times when it’s the hardest... It’s never a perfect game, but just being able to fight that and get through it is the one thing we have to learn.”

Other members of the team mentioned team chemistry as a vital aspect of the Lakers’ success going forward.

“We’re trying to find ourselves,” said Athena Pomele-Pen, a junior third baseman from San Jose, California. “There’s new players on the team, so we’re trying to find that connection with everybody, that culture… so that when we go on the field, we have each other’s back.”

The Lakers have 20 players on the roster for the 2023-2024 season, five of which are new to the team this year. As the Lakers have progressed throughout the season, they’ve honed in on their strengths and worked on their weaknesses. 

“Defense is our strong suit,” said Pomele-Pen. "That’s really what’s holding us right now, when we beat these teams—our defense.” 

“We are a hitting team too… when we’re hitting, we’re hitting,” added Lozada. “But our defense is always locked in.”

Ahead of their games against Saint Xavier on Apr. 18, several of the athletes mentioned their narrowed focus and heightened motivation. 

“We have yet to beat Saint X since I’ve been here,” said Lozada, who has been a Laker since 2021.

The last recorded victory over the Saint Xavier was seven years ago on Mar. 28, 2017, when the Lakers scraped by the Cougars 1-0, before losing 4-0 in the second game of the doubleheader.

“We’ve had some good games against them,” Lozada said. “They don’t completely shut us out, so, it’s about ... coming through and believing we can beat them.”

The Lakers are no strangers to breaking opposing teams’ win streaks. A 7-2 victory against Olivet Nazarene University on Apr. 9 marked the Lakers’ first time beating the Tigers in eight years. In the second game of the doubleheader, the Lakers only came short of victory over the Tigers by one point.

“We always seem to freak ourselves out before we play them,” said Pomele-Pen. “When we go into that game, we just have to be confident and play like we’ve played these other teams.”

The Lakers secured a hard-fought victory over Saint Xavier in the first game of the doubleheader, marking their first win in seven years against the Cougars.  They secured the win 2-1 after a clutch play in the last inning. The Lakers fell in the second game 4-12 after just five innings.

Pomele-Pen reflected on the team morale following the games against Saint Xavier.

“The first win felt so good because we haven’t won against them in a long time,” she said. “Beating them gave us a confidence boost going into our games against Indiana South Bend.”

The Lakers swept the Indiana University South Bend Titans in a two-game series on Apr. 19, winning 5-2 and 11-7 respectively. 

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The letters are merely a vehicle through which I try to reveal my thoughts— the thoughts that are so plentiful, so numerous, that they often move faster than I can type.

Many ideas live in the layers below my conscious mind. Many coexist. Some blend together, and others challenge each other. Some are cousins; related through the genetic bloodline of the same subconscious beliefs. Others are independent; they are born from emerging beliefs—the ones that have not fully rooted themselves in the soil of my mind.

The content of my thoughts pours out onto the page. It would seem unorganized to most—especially to the untrained eye.

It is the reality of how my mind works. I can have depth and substance behind an idea, and another, equally transformative idea can spon. The thoughts arrive randomly. Unannounced. Uninvited.

But they all serve a purpose.

For example, my latest accumulation of thoughts features a wish for human communication habits to parallel nature, visions of an emerging new reality with artificial intelligence, comments about how we, as women, present ourselves, words about the Chicago breeze, and several dilemmas involved in journalistic work. New ideas that have not yet joined the page include thoughts about letting things go, tests from God and how they serve greater purposes, reflections about worldly accomplishments, and observations about human behaviors.

I do not know how my mind works. I do not know if I will ever know. I do not think I need to know. I surrendered the idea of thinking “normally” a long time ago.

I grew appreciation for my mind when I realized that my random ideas allow me to filter out good ideas. Good ideas are the red carpet to great ideas. And great ideas… who knows what they will lead to?

Who am I to restrict these ideas from taking shape?

Who am I to try to change, mold, and limit my ideas?

One thing I learned a couple days ago is that not all thoughts are ours, and that not all thoughts are true (I listened to Jerry Flowers talk about this on YouTube).

But a hidden truth in that statement is that some thoughts are ours, and some thoughts are true.

Some thoughts are beautiful.

Some thoughts serve a greater purpose.

Some thoughts are seeds worth sowing.

So, while it is healthy to have self-awareness… to filter out the bad and the deceitful thoughts… we are humans. We are meant to think. To imagine. To create.

This is a gift, a blessing that God has bestowed within us.

So, while human voices have offered me the seeds of guilt and shame around my thoughts—around how I think and digest information—I don’t reject these parts of me.

I am open to change, yes. I am open to a renewed mind, yes.

But I accept how I think.

I love my mind. I love my ideas.

I am grateful for vision to see realities beyond my rational thought. I am grateful for the ability to think critically—to understand, to seek, to discern. I am grateful that I learned to manage and filter my thoughts, and that this is an ongoing process.

The writer’s mind is a wondrous place. It is complex. It is beautiful.

It can season one idea—the present idea—while other ideas marinate on the back burner.

It can discern which ideas to water, and it can sculpt its presentation of these ideas with intentionality. With purpose. With conciseness.

So to the writer, to the creator, to the artist, that feels wrong for his or her wild, running mind, feel ashamed no more.

Let the ideas flow. Let the judgment go. Let your thoughts grow.

And so, while I currently sit here, no longer typing in my Word Document, but rather onto Substack, I move forward with a gentleness about my thoughts. I embrace an intentionality about getting them out on the page, but a softness about what they are and how they come about.

I commit to being more of Grace—as she was created—and less of the world.

I commit to honoring God by cradling my mind and its complexities—the details that God so carefully designed.

I urge you to do the same.

-GB

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