Held by Grace on the Mountain

Seating on top of South Mountain, looking down at the city, I felt something rise in my chest, something I hadn’t let myself feel in a long time. I tried to spot my home from up there, but all I could see was how much Phoenix has changed. The city has grown so much that it almost feels like it grew faster than I could keep up. And in that moment, I realized I’ve changed too.

When I first came here thirty years ago, life was busy but still simple. I was young, hopeful, and trying to understand a world that didn’t always understand me back. As the years passed, everything became more complicated, unexpected challenges, uncertainties, moments that shook my confidence. People think that living in America means life is easy. They see comfort, convenience, opportunity. But they don’t see the nights you cry quietly because you lost your job, or the fear that hits you when your health benefits disappear and you don’t know how you’ll make it through.

I’ve faced all of that. I’ve carried all of that. And yet, seating on that mountain, I felt something stronger than fear, gratitude. Because every time I was close to sinking, God pulled me back up. Every time I thought I couldn’t handle one more setback, He showed me I wasn’t alone. He rescued me in ways I didn’t always recognize at the time, but looking back, I see His fingerprints on every moment I survived.

Up there, with the wind brushing against me and the city stretched out below, I felt emotional in a way I can’t fully explain. I saw the life I built, the battles I fought, the grace that carried me. And I realized that even through all the hardship, I’m still here. Still standing. Still growing. Still held.