The Question I Don’t Like to Be Asked and Why?

Posted on February 25, 2026 by Betty

It goes beyond my understanding.

I dislike it when people ask if I believe in God. The issue is that they often don’t accept a simple “yes” or “no.” They want an explanation of my beliefs and reasoning.


The truth is, I have professed belief in God because it is what I was taught as a child. It was part of the upbringing I received from my parents, who instilled their traditions and beliefs in me. However, I’ve come to realize that believing in God does not necessarily mean that I truly understand anything about “God.”


There are higher forces at play in the universe. I am uncertain if these forces can be classified as God. I view the universe as a created entity; although some people attribute god-like qualities to it, I do not. I see the universe as a system, a structure, a design. It is not a being with consciousness or personality. If it imparts anything, it does so because it was built to, not because it chooses to.

I can’t explain what “God” is. I can’t define God or describe how this higher power functions. However, I know that a greater force loves me, and I have felt blessed since my conception. I am eternally grateful for that! I feel I have been in tune with this force that has protected and watched over me my whole life. Yet, I don’t know what this force looks like or exactly what it is.


I was taught that God is a Spirit. However, how can anyone truly believe this without a genuine understanding? I have developed a relationship with that force. Through my awareness and intuition, I know that a presence or force exists. This is not merely a belief; it is a certainty. I cannot describe what it looks like, nor do I know its origin or where it resides.

My answer is more of an experience than a concrete explanation. It’s not vague; it’s something that transcends simple definitions. I prefer to embrace this presence and observe how it integrates into my life, rather than trying to analyze or define it in words, which goes beyond my understanding.

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How Has a Failure, or Apparent Failure, Set Me Up for Later Success?

Posted on February 24, 2026 by Betty

I’ve had many setbacks and moments when things didn’t go the way I hoped. But I’ve never truly considered those moments “failures.” If I were all‑knowing, I would never falter—so when something doesn’t work out the first time, I simply try again. And again. And again. If it’s something I genuinely want to succeed at, I stay with it. If not, I let it go without guilt.

Take furniture assembly, for example. These days, everything arrives in a box with a tiny booklet of instructions and a bag of screws that looks like it belongs in a science lab. Some pieces are so complicated that they seem designed to test your sanity. But since I paid for them, I either have to put them together or call someone else to do it. And calling someone else is something I never do.

So I go through my ritual: the screwdriver thrown across the room, the pouting, the muttering, the full‑blown temper tantrum.

Then—after all that—I become as patient as Job and settle in to get the job done.

As funny as it sounds, assembling furniture has disciplined me mentally and emotionally in ways I never expected. I have pouted, been frustrated, nearly cried, and even begged God to help me through. But once I put all that emotion aside and simply do what needs to be done—voilà. Success.

Going through that cycle a few times teaches you far more than how to build a bookshelf. It humbles you. It forces you to face problems without falling apart. It teaches you not to give up until you either finish the job or accept that you’ll be stuck with a pile of unassembled parts. And in the process, you develop real, transferable life skills:

  • Patience and Persistence
  • Attention to Detail
  • Confidence and Self‑Esteem
  • Spatial Reasoning & Visualization
  • Interpreting Technical Instructions
  • Problem‑Solving & Troubleshooting
  • Planning & Sequential Thinking
  • Measurement Accuracy
  • Fine Motor Skills & Precision

Conclusion

What looks like a simple household task becomes a training ground for character. It turns you from a passive consumer into a creator—someone who can take raw pieces and build something functional, sturdy, and real. And those same skills are invaluable not just in technical work, but in everyday life.

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The Beginning Sentence of My Autobiography

Posted on February 23, 2026 by Betty


 Enter into the deepest chambers of my soul.

Daily writing prompt
You’re writing your autobiography. What’s your opening sentence?
View all responses

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The Quiet Ache of Becoming

Posted on February 23, 2026 by Betty

Introduction

There are moments in life when the noise quiets. It is then that we can hear the deeper questions we’ve been carrying all along. Questions about purpose, impact, and the mysterious longing to leave something behind that outlives our breath. These questions don’t arrive with urgency. They drift in softly, like a whisper from the soul. They ask whether the life we’ve lived is enough. They also inquire if the life ahead still holds room for becoming. This reflection is born from that tender space, where hope and uncertainty meet, and where every human heart eventually wanders.

The Ache

I’ve been sitting here thinking about life. I am contemplating my life and the strange, tender hope I carry. I hope to live to be a hundred years old. It’s not just about longevity; it’s about longing. Part of me feels like I haven’t truly lived yet. It seems as if the most meaningful chapters are still waiting somewhere ahead of me. And yet another part of me looks at everything I’ve learned. It looks at everything I’ve endured. It whispers that I should be using that wisdom to make a real difference. I don’t feel like I’ve done that—not in the way I imagined I would.

There’s a quiet ache in wanting to leave behind something meaningful. I want something that outlives me and blesses generations I’ll never meet. But then the questions rise, uninvited but honest: What if that never happens? What if my life never produces the impact that echoes beyond my years? Would my existence still hold the same worth as someone whose influence stretches across time? Theoretically, I know the answer should be yes. But the heart doesn’t always rest in theory.

I’ve always believed that writing is one of the most powerful ways to leave a mark. A book that reaches the world becomes a vessel—carrying pieces of a soul into the minds of strangers. It shapes thought. It stirs emotion. It changes people. There’s something almost sacred about that influence, the way words can outlive the hands that wrote them.

But why do we, as human beings, feel such a deep need to express ourselves? Why do we crave a medium—whether writing, art, music, or conversation—to pour out the inner world we carry? Why is it so vital that someone hears us, understands us, or carries a piece of us onward? Is this longing woven into our nature? Is it part of our purpose?

Sometimes I wonder whether this impulse mirrors how we pass down our DNA. Maybe influence—whether biological, emotional, or spiritual—is part of a greater design. Maybe we’re meant to leave something behind, even if it’s small, even if it’s quiet.

But what happens if we never get the chance to share the deepest parts of ourselves? What if our visions, our inspirations, our private truths stay unheard? Does that make our lives any less valuable in the eyes of a higher power? Would someone whose work shapes the world be considered more deserving than someone whose efforts go unnoticed?

And then I think about legacy in its simplest form. What if I only pass my knowledge, my love, and my lessons on to my children? And if that ends my influence, will that still be enough? That still earns the words every soul longs to hear: “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

These thoughts came to me quietly, almost unexpectedly, but they stayed. And as I sat with them, I realized they weren’t born out of fear—they were born out of reflection. They stemmed from a wish to understand purpose and impact. They also came from a wish to understand the quiet ways a life can matter. This is true even when the world never sees it.

Closing

In the end, perhaps the measure of a life isn’t found in the size of its echo. It is found in the sincerity of its offering. Maybe our worth isn’t determined by how far our influence travels. It is in the quiet truth that we tried to love well. We aimed to learn deeply. We wanted to leave the world—no matter how small our corner of it—more whole than we found it. If that is all we ever manage to give, then maybe that is enough. Maybe that is the legacy. Maybe, in the eyes of the One who sees every hidden effort, it is already more than enough.

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My Comfort Arsenal: The Three Essentials That Keep Me Grounded 

Posted on February 22, 2026 by Betty

There are three essentials I genuinely couldn’t imagine living without: my heater, flossers, and nail clippers. Each one plays a surprisingly vital role in my daily comfort and well-being.

My heater is absolutely indispensable during the colder months—fall, winter, and even early spring. I have a deep aversion to the cold, not just emotionally but physically as well. In fact, I’m allergic to it, especially in my hands. Exposure to cold triggers an intense, almost unbearable itching sensation that drives me up the wall. It’s not just discomfort—it’s a kind of misery that makes me feel trapped in my own skin. While I could adapt if absolutely necessary, I know I’d carry a constant sense of unhappiness. The cold is my most uncomfortable comfort zone, and I dread it more than anything.

Flossers are another non-negotiable. I’d honestly give up my toothbrush before I’d part with my flosser. For me, oral hygiene is all about removing the food particles that get stuck between my teeth, and flossers do that far better than any toothbrush ever could. There’s something deeply satisfying about knowing my teeth are truly clean. They are not just brushed, but cleared of every last bit of debris. It’s a small thing, but it makes a big difference in how I feel.

Then there are my nail clippers. I get irritated the moment I notice my fingernails or toenails growing too long. As soon as I see those opaque tips forming, I instinctively reach for my clippers. It’s not just about grooming—it’s about feeling neat, tidy, and in control. Long nails feel like clutter to me, and I don’t like carrying that around.

My heater, my flossers, and my nail clippers might seem mundane, but still, they’re my personal pillars of comfort. They help me feel physically at ease, mentally clear, and emotionally grounded.

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What Authenticity Looks Like

Posted on February 21, 2026 by Betty

Introduction

Authenticity is a word people use often, but rarely live out. We say we want honesty, transparency, and real connection — yet so many hide behind masks, strategies, and performances. For me, authenticity isn’t a trend or a personality trait. It’s a way of being. It’s a commitment to showing up as yourself, without disguise, without manipulation, and without fear of being seen. This is what authenticity looks like to me.

Look Deeper

Authenticity looks like speaking plainly, even when your truth isn’t popular. It looks like choosing clarity over confusion, honesty over performance, and presence over pretense.

It’s the courage to say, “This is who I am,” without waiting to see if the room approves.

Authenticity is not perfection. It’s not always polished. Sometimes it’s quiet, sometimes it’s firm, and sometimes it’s simply choosing not to participate in the games others play.

It’s asking questions because you genuinely want to understand — not because you’re trying to trap someone. It’s listening without plotting your next move. It’s showing your heart without disguising it as strategy.

Authenticity is the refusal to manipulate or deceive, even when others insist that “everyone does it.” It’s the strength to walk away from people who require you to be less than yourself to stay connected.

It’s the peace that comes from knowing you didn’t betray your own character just to fit into someone else’s comfort zone.

Authenticity is a quiet kind of freedom — the freedom to be whole, honest, and unmasked.

Closing

Authenticity isn’t something you demand from others; it’s something you practice within yourself. And when you live that way, you naturally attract people who value truth over performance and depth over games. The world may be full of masks, but there are still those who choose to live uncovered. I choose to be one of them. And if that means walking alone at times, I walk with peace — because I walk as myself.

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What Experiences in Life Have Helped Me Grow the Most?

Posted on February 21, 2026 by Betty

Preface

We all grow in different ways, but for me, the lessons that shaped me most didn’t arrive gently. They came through people — through expectations, disappointments, and the quiet realizations that follow. I’ve learned more from the ways people show up, fall short, or reveal themselves than from any textbook or life manual. These experiences have stretched me, sharpened me, and taught me who I am and who I refuse to become. What follows is a reflection on the moments and interactions that have most shaped my growth.  

Experiences

The experiences that have shaped me the most have been the unexpected consequences of my relationships. I’ve always held high expectations for people, and more often than not, those expectations led to disappointment. With time, I’ve learned that my own character plays a part in every interaction. People behave according to who they are, and every exchange between two souls creates its own cause and effect.

One thing I refuse to do is play mind games to “figure someone out.” I find that kind of behavior unethical and dishonest. Some call it strategy, but to me, it reveals more about their character than the person they’re trying to test. I don’t believe deception is necessary to discover who someone truly is. If you want to know me, ask me. I’ll tell you. And if someone feels the need to sneak, cheat, or manipulate, their actions will eventually expose them without any help from me. I’m tired of that kind of trickery. I’d rather be alone than entertain it.

I’ve encountered this behavior even from people I genuinely care about, and I’ve had to distance myself because of it. To me, it’s mediocrity — a small way of living and relating.

I still believe two people can enjoy each other’s company and learn from one another without deception. I enjoy being mentally challenged, but not through manipulation. I value honest questions, thoughtful dialogue, and interactions that allow me to show who I truly am. Yet, I frequently meet people who have been hurt so deeply that they’ve adopted negative lessons — believing they must retaliate, protect themselves through games, or stay one step ahead to avoid being hurt again.

Encountering the same mindset repeatedly has been frustrating. Sometimes I wonder if there are any authentic people left — people who are transparent, sincere, and uninterested in deception. Why do so many feel the need to play games to get to know someone? I don’t understand it, and honestly, I hope I never do. I don’t want to join that way of living. If that means I walk alone, then so be it. Mind games can be playful or lighthearted, but deception has no place in genuine connection. Maybe I’m naïve, but I rarely meet people who don’t play the game.

Still, these experiences have been some of my greatest teachers. They’ve sharpened my awareness, deepened my caution, and given me insight into human nature. They’ve also made it clear who I refuse to become. It’s difficult living in a world where I must constantly be on guard, scanning for deception or red flags. These lessons have shaped me, strengthened me, and helped me grow — and for that, I’m grateful. I’ve lived, I’ve learned, and I’ve remained myself.

But I also recognize the cost: living without a genuine, unfiltered connection can feel isolating. And yet, I would rather stand in truth alone than be surrounded by people who hide behind masks.


Conclusion

As challenging as these experiences have been, I can’t deny the growth they’ve produced. They’ve taught me to stay rooted in who I am, even when the world around me feels clouded with pretense and games. They’ve shown me the value of clarity, honesty, and standing alone when necessary. And while the absence of genuine connection can feel isolating, I would rather live in truth than settle for anything less. Growth has a way of refining us — and I’m grateful for every lesson that reinforces and keeps me vigilant to who I am.  


This piece serves as a prelude to the upcoming post titled “Authenticity.”

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Do I Believe in Fate or Destiny?

Posted on February 20, 2026 by Betty

Fate, Destiny, and the Design of Our Becoming

When people ask whether I believe in fate or destiny, I don’t choose one over the other. I choose both — not out of indecision, but because the deeper I look at human life, the more I see that fate and destiny are not opposites. They are partners.

Most definitions draw a sharp line between the two. Fate is described as fixed, predetermined, and unchangeable — the parts of life we don’t get to vote on. Destiny is framed as the path shaped by our choices, our actions, and our willingness to grow.

But life is more layered than definitions. And the human experience refuses to fit neatly into either/or boxes.

The Fate Written Into Our Design

If we look at our physical existence, fate is undeniable.

We did not choose:

  • Our DNA
  • Our lifespan
  • The number of heartbeats we are allotted
  • The biological rhythms that govern our bodies
  • The fact that we will one day leave this world

Our DNA carries instructions we never authored. It influences our temperament, vulnerabilities, strengths, and even how we respond to the world around us. We can’t rewrite our genetic code at will, nor can we choose to live forever. These are fixed boundaries — the “fated architecture” of being human.

So yes, some things are finalized before we ever take our first breath.

The Destiny We Shape Through Choice

Yet within those boundaries, something extraordinary happens.

We think. We imagine. We choose. We act. We learn. We grow.

Our mental, emotional, and spiritual lives are not pre-scripted. We have agency — not the illusion of it, but the real thing. Our behavior, our attitude, our willingness to change, and the way we respond to life’s circumstances all shape the outcomes we experience.

Science even supports this. While DNA provides the blueprint, our environment, habits, beliefs, and choices influence how those genes express themselves. In other words, biology sets the stage, but we still decide how to move across it.

That is destiny — the unfolding of potential through participation.

“We Are Wonderfully Made” Psalm 139:14

Scripture reminds us that we are “wonderfully made,” and that truth carries weight. We did not design our intelligence, imagination, or capacity for moral choice. These were given. And because they were given, they point to a Creator who intended for us to use them.

This means destiny is not self-authored. It is co-authored.

God provides the structure. We provide the movement.

Our lives become a collaboration between divine intention and human response.

Where Fate and Destiny Meet

Some parts of our journey are fixed:

  • We will age
  • We will learn through experience
  • We will face limits
  • We will eventually return home

But within those fixed realities, we are invited to grow in wisdom, understanding, and purpose. We are invited to discover who we are and why we are here. We are invited to align our choices with the deeper truth of our design.

So when I say I believe in both fate and destiny, this is what I mean:

Fate sets the boundaries. Destiny unfolds within them. And God is present in both.

It is not our plan coming into fruition; it is the Master’s plan revealing itself as we walk it. We are not here merely to believe — we are here to come to know. And that knowing happens through the interplay of what is given and what is chosen.

To deny fate is to deny the reality of our design. To deny destiny is to deny the power of our agency. To deny the Creator’s role in both is to misunderstand the miracle of being human.

So yes — I believe in fate. And yes — I believe in destiny. Because together, they tell the truth of who we are becoming.

Glory be to the Creator!! For we are wonderfully made!

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When the World Was Still Gentle  

Posted on February 19, 2026 by Betty

Describe a phase in life that was difficult to say goodbye to

There was a phase of my life that still feels like a warm echo inside me, a chapter I never truly wanted to leave behind. It was the time when innocence wasn’t something I tried to protect — it was simply the way I existed. I moved through the world with a softness that felt natural, seeing everything through rose‑colored glasses that made even the ordinary shimmer. I smiled easily. I trusted freely. Joy found me without effort.

I grew up surrounded by forests that felt like old friends — tall, quiet, and steady. Life back then carried a kind of gentle freedom. We could leave our doors unlocked without a second thought. If I woke in the middle of the night, I could step outside and wander beneath the trees, barefoot and unafraid. The world felt safe enough to explore at any hour, as if the night itself was watching over me.

Some of my most cherished memories live under that deep, endless sky. I remember lying on my back, staring up at the stars scattered like diamonds across the darkness. The moon glowed softly, crickets sang their familiar song, and fireflies drifted around me like tiny lanterns. Everything felt peaceful, untouched, and whole. In those moments, I believed the world was as pure as the beauty I saw in it.

But innocence is fragile, and life has a way of revealing its sharper edges. As I grew older and stepped further into the world, I began to meet people whose actions didn’t match the goodness I carried inside. Their choices, their words, their indifference — each one chipped away at the lens through which I once viewed life. Slowly, painfully, those rose‑colored glasses began to stain and crack.

I learned that not everyone sees the world with tenderness. Not everyone protects what is gentle. And with every unkindness I witnessed, every injustice that rippled through someone’s life, every moment when humanity failed to show its heart, something inside me shifted. My innocence wasn’t taken all at once — it was worn down, piece by piece, by the realization that the purity I felt in my soul wasn’t reflected in the souls I encountered.

Even now, as someone deeply aware, spiritually grounded, and connected to something greater than myself, my heart aches. I feel the weight of the world — the pain of others, the harm caused by careless actions, the suffering of the planet itself. My heart doesn’t know how to disconnect, because I’ve always understood that we are all connected. Every wound, every injustice, every moment of cruelty reverberates through me.

More than anything, I miss the version of life where innocence felt safe. I miss believing that the goodness inside me was mirrored in the world around me. I miss the nights under the stars when everything felt possible, and nothing felt threatening. I miss the rose‑colored glasses — not because they hid the truth, but because they reflected the truth I wanted to believe in.

Saying goodbye to that phase of my life still hurts. It was the last time the world felt simple, kind, and aligned with the purity I carried in my heart. And even now, a part of me longs to return to that quiet, untouched place where innocence wasn’t something I mourned, but something I lived.

 And maybe that’s why, as an introvert, I find so much refuge in my own quiet spaces. Solitude has become the place where I can breathe again, where the noise of the world softens enough for me to hear my own soul clearly. In the stillness, I reconnect with the innocence that once shaped me — the purity that hasn’t disappeared, only retreated somewhere safe inside.

It’s in those private moments, when the world falls away, that I remember who I was before life taught me its harder lessons. I feel the softness of my younger self rise to the surface, untouched and unbroken, even as I carry the knowledge of how different the world outside truly is. My solitude is where both truths meet — the purity I long for and the reality I’ve learned to navigate — and somehow, holding them both is what keeps me whole.  

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The Most Ambitious DIY Project I’ve Ever Taken On

Posted on February 18, 2026 by Betty

When I think about the most ambitious DIY work I’ve taken on, it’s really a collection of practical tasks I’ve handled on my own over time. I’ve gotten pretty good at replacing doorknobs, putting up toilet‑tissue racks, and installing plastic window coverings without needing anyone to come in and do it for me. These may not be dramatic renovations, but they require patience, accuracy, and the willingness to figure things out as I go.

What I’m most proud of is not just the tasks themselves, but the way I naturally step into problem‑solving mode. I’m good at looking at something that’s broken, loose, or out of place and coming up with ideas for how to fix it. I can see what needs to be done, think through the steps, and take action without feeling intimidated. That ability — to assess a situation and find a workable solution — is something I rely on often.

So while I haven’t taken on a massive remodel or a complicated construction project, my most ambitious DIY accomplishment is the confidence I’ve built in handling the everyday things that keep a home functioning. I trust my own judgment, my hands, and my creativity. And that, to me, is just as meaningful as any big project.

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