Before the Blessing, There Is Surrender

Happy New Year, Daughters Collective.

The end of last year went a little quiet over here — and for the best reason. My husband and I found out we’re expecting our first baby, and I spent a good chunk of that time in the very real first-trimester trenches (mums… you already know).

It was physically hard, but it’s also been one of the sweetest gifts — especially because it came after a tough personal season. I’ll share more of that story as we go, because as I’ve prayed about what to carry into 2026, one phrase has kept coming back to me:

Before the blessing, there is surrender.

Not as a rule. Not as a formula. Not as a transaction.
But as a way God often shapes us — gently, deeply, and faithfully.

The last couple of years held more weight than I ever expected. My husband and I went through a lot in our personal lives, and one of the hardest parts for me was church hurt — specifically, hurt caused by people in leadership.

And that kind of pain is complicated, because it doesn’t just hit your relationships. It can shake your confidence, distort your sense of safety, and make you question your own call.

I didn’t stop loving God. I truly didn’t.
But if you’ve ever been wounded in a faith space, you’ll understand this: sometimes church, God, and faith get tangled in your heart. You don’t mean to mix them up — but it happens.

So I stepped back from serving for a while. Not out of bitterness toward God, but out of wisdom and fear: “I’m not going to become the kind of leader who bleeds on people who didn’t cut me.”

And honestly? I was also thinking:

• “God, I’m not ready.”

• “God, I can’t do this with just me.”

• “I’m not good enough.”

• “Are you sure you want me?”
  
  

And underneath it all was a bigger fear:

“If leaders can hurt people like that… what if I do too?”

At the beginning of 2025, a friend and her husband invited me to spend the summer in Michigan. She and her husband blessed me with the chance to stay with them — not for a cute holiday (though I’m not mad at a change of scenery), but for healing and surrender.

The goal wasn’t “get over it.”
The goal was bring it to God. Fully. Honestly. Vulnerably.

During that summer, we worked through a study called The 7 Keys to Freedom and had countless deep conversations. And the hardest part for me? Forgiveness. Two specific people had hurt me deeply, and choosing to forgive them felt like a “die to flesh” moment.

Even writing that now makes me emotional.

Because forgiveness isn’t pretending it didn’t happen.
Forgiveness is saying, “This won’t control me anymore.”
Forgiveness is the release of your need for revenge.
Forgiveness is handing over the gavel.

And that was my next surrender: justice.

I’m a little bit of a control freak; I like to know what's going to happen and how, and in this instance, when justice wasn’t put in my hands, I struggled. I wanted things to be made right my way. I wanted people to pay for what they did.

But God invited me into a hard truth:

“Who are you to decide how someone should pay?” “Who are you to bring judgment on them?”

So I surrendered judgment to the only One who can hold it righteously.

Earlier that summer, even before leaving for Michigan, I felt God tell me to turn off my TV and listen.

Over three years ago, God had spoken to me about what to do with my life. He gave me a calling — a vision — back in Bible college in Australia. That vision is currently in early stages of action today - it’s Daughters Collective.

Since being given that clear direction, I was distracted by various complications along the way, which led me to launch in late August last year. 3 years later. 

Life distracted me.

Pain made me stall.

Insecurity crept in.

I kept thinking, “I’ll start when I’m fully healed.”
I kept waiting for “peak Christian girl” status — as if I’d wake up one day flawless, fearless, and untriggered.

And God, in His kindness, reminded me even so, by telling me to turn my TV off, to get out of my pit, and to remember the last thing He told me to do.

You won’t reach perfection this side of eternity.
Only Jesus is perfect.
We have to stop being so hard on ourselves.

He reminded me that He’s always used imperfect people:

• Moses doubted, avoided, and got angry — and God still used him.

• David was messy — and he was still called a man after God’s heart.

• Peter failed — and Jesus still entrusted him.
  

God doesn’t call the polished. He calls the willing.

That doesn’t mean we ignore healing. Stepping back from serving in the church was wise for me. I needed space to recover, to make my heart right with God, and to choose love over bitterness. Because the truth is: people will fail. Even Christians. Even leaders.

So my assignment becomes this:
keep choosing forgiveness, keep choosing surrender, keep choosing love.

When I came home, after nearly a month away, within that first month, I found out I was pregnant.

I had just brought home a study called ‘Your Name Is Daughter’ by Amy Seiffert during my trip in Michigan  (which has been so foundational for Daughters Collective). My friend from Michigan, Dana and I looked through it briefly while I was there, and both felt it was something I needed to walk through. 

One day, when I had been home for a couple of weeks, I chose to take a pregnancy test, which showed positive and on that same day, I chose to open the study for the first time in a while — and the first thing I read was Hannah’s story (1 Samuel 1).

'5But to Hannah he gave a double portion because he loved her, and the Lord had closed her womb. 6Because the Lord had closed Hannah’s womb, her rival kept provoking her in order to irritate her. 7This went on year after year. Whenever Hannah went up to the house of the Lord, her rival provoked her till she wept and would not eat. 8Her husband Elkanah would say to her, “Hannah, why are you weeping? Why don’t you eat? Why are you downhearted? Don’t I mean more to you than ten sons?” 9Once when they had finished eating and drinking in Shiloh, Hannah stood up. Now Eli the priest was sitting on his chair by the doorpost of the Lord’s house. 10In her deep anguish Hannah prayed to the Lord, weeping bitterly. 11And she made a vow, saying, “Lord Almighty, if you will only look on your servant’s misery and remember me, and not forget your servant but give her a son, then I will give him to the Lord for all the days of his life, and no razor will ever be used on his head.” 12As she kept on praying to the Lord, Eli observed her mouth. 13Hannah was praying in her heart, and her lips were moving but her voice was not heard. Eli thought she was drunk 14and said to her, “How long are you going to stay drunk? Put away your wine.” 15“Not so, my lord,” Hannah replied, “I am a woman who is deeply troubled. I have not been drinking wine or beer; I was pouring out my soul to the Lord. 17Eli answered, “Go in peace, and may the God of Israel grant you what you have asked of him.” 18She said, “May your servant find favor in your eyes.” Then she went her way and ate something, and her face was no longer downcast. 19Early the next morning they arose and worshiped before the Lord and then went back to their home at Ramah. Elkanah made love to his wife Hannah, and the Lord remembered her. 20So in the course of time Hannah became pregnant and gave birth to a son. She named him Samuel, 1:20 Samuel sounds like the Hebrew for heard by God. saying, “Because I asked the Lord for him.” '

1 Samuel 1:5-15,17-20

Hannah’s story wrecked me in the best way.

Not because my story is the same as Hannah’s – but because I recognised the posture.

Scripture says she was pouring out her soul to the Lord, and I had just spent a lot of my summer doing the same.

And after she poured out her soul, it says her face was no longer downcast… and then, in the course of time, the Lord remembered her.

But I recognised something in Hannah:

the honesty.
the surrender.
the letting God into the raw places.

We had been trying for a baby for around 9 months. Every negative test still hurt. I wasn’t the same as Hannah, I wasn’t barren, but the fear still existed. 

I want to be sensitive here. If you are walking through infertility or a long wait. I see you. You are loved and worthy wherever you stand. And I am praying specifically for you — that God would meet you deeply, carry you tenderly, and guide you in His goodness.

I don’t share my pregnancy as a formula. Not as a transaction. Not as a promise. I share it as a testimony of God’s kindness and timing. 

I had just spent a season pouring out my soul to the Lord – similarly to Hannah and God, in His perfect timing, He remembered me. 

For me, God’s timing was perfect.

I needed to be healthy before stepping into Daughters Collective.

I needed to surrender before stepping into motherhood. 

I needed to heal before leading again.

I needed to lay things down before I could carry new things well.

Before blessing, there was surrender. 

And Scripture shows this pattern again and again:

• Hannah poured her heart out before the blessing came.

• Sarah waited before she laughed.

• Ruth lost everything before she was redeemed.

• Esther risked everything before she was crowned.

• Mary was misunderstood whilst she carried the Messiah.
  
  

God often shapes the soul before He changes the story.
Not to punish. Not to withhold from you. But to prepare.

Oil flows when olives are crushed.
Seeds grow in darkness.
Diamonds form under pressure.

There is always a crushing for there to be new wine

The anointing doesn’t flow from perfection.
It flows through surrender.

This past season, I reached a point where I could no longer carry everything quietly.

So I laid it down.

• disappointments

• betrayal

• grief

• unspoken prayers

• trauma

• hidden expectations
  
  

And not long after that season of surrender, I found out I was pregnant.

Again: not a formula.
Not a promise.
Not a transaction.

Just a testimony of God’s kindness in His timing.

So if you’re waiting right now:

Your waiting is not wasted.
Your surrender matters.
Your honesty is enough.
God is not absent in the waiting — He is present.
And often, He is doing more than you can see.

This year isn’t about trying harder.
This year is about surrender.

God’s timing — not mine.
God’s plan — not mine.
God’s will — not mine.
God’s glory — not mine.

When God chooses a woman, He doesn’t just write her story… He shapes her soul.

So, don’t despise this season.

Your pain isn’t wasted — it is preparation.
Your waiting can become your testimony.
Your tears can become your praise.

And as I write this, I’m praying for you – I pray healing over you. Peace over you. Freedom over you. Courage to forgive. Grace to surrender. And faith to trust God again. 

If you’re mad at God, have it out with Him.
If you’re disappointed, tell Him.
If you’re tired, rest in Him.
If you’ve been hurt, bring it to Him.

Be as wildly honest with God as you need to be. He can handle it.

Surrender isn’t easy — but it is worth it.

Daughter, I believe in you.
The crushing is never fun — but there is new wine to come.
Your Father in heaven is not far away. He’s waiting with open arms.

2026… let it be our year of choosing surrender.