AN ALABASTER APRIL

There’s a kind of April that doesn’t ask permission to bloom. The kind where what once felt delayed suddenly feels divinely timed… where seeds you forgot you planted begin to break through the soil all at once. An Amos 9:13–15 kind of April — where everything happens so fast your head almost spins, and you realize God was never late… just intentional.

But if I’m honest, my April didn’t start in full bloom.

It took five days.

Five quiet, stretching, faith-testing days before things began to take flight.

On April 1st, I sent a simple text: I wanted to sing at church again. For the first time since having my son. Not because I was asked. Not because it was expected. But because something deep within me whispered, “It’s time.”

What no one knew… is that I had been carrying that desire since late December… maybe even early January. Quiet prayers. Private wrestlings. Asking God to soften my heart again. To clear out the fear, the noise, the residue of past pain. To help me find my way back to a gift He gave me… one I used to love before life — and people, and disappointment — tried to convince me to shrink it.

And when that Sunday came, there was one song on my heart:

Alabaster Box.

If you’ve ever heard it, then you know… it’s not just a song. It’s a surrender.

It’s the story of a woman who carried her pain, her past, her shame — all in one fragile vessel. A box filled with something costly. Something valuable. Something that could’ve been kept, protected, saved for another day.

But instead… she broke it.

She poured it out.

Not when it was convenient. Not when it was understood. Not when others approved. But in a moment of complete, undeniable surrender.

And that’s what stayed with me.

Because the truth is… many of us are walking around carrying our own alabaster boxes.

Full of things we don’t talk about.
Full of prayers we whisper in private.
Full of wounds that still echo.
Full of gifts we’ve tucked away because life got loud… or heavy… or complicated.

We show up every day, smiling, pushing through, hoping for better — while inside, we’re still holding pieces that need to be released.

Trauma.
Disappointment.
Broken relationships.
Dreams deferred.
Joy that once felt natural but now feels distant.

And yet… there is something so powerful — so freeing — about a fully surrendered yes.

A yes that doesn’t wait for perfect healing.
A yes that doesn’t require full understanding.
A yes that isn’t dependent on outside opinions.

A yes that simply says, “God, here I am. All of me. Even this.”

Because surrender will cost you something.

It will ask you to lay down pride.
To release control.
To trust beyond what you can see.

But what it gives in return… is something far greater.

Restoration.
Renewal.
Alignment.
Overflow.

That kind of April reminded me: sometimes breakthrough doesn’t start loud. Sometimes it begins with a quiet decision… a simple yes… a text message… a step forward when no one is watching.

And then suddenly — five days in — everything starts to shift.

So as we step into May… as we approach the midpoint of the year… I want to invite you into something simple, but life-changing:

Start your month with yes.

Yes, even if you’re still healing.
Yes, even if you don’t have all the answers.
Yes, even if your voice shakes.
Yes, even if no one else understands.

Bring your alabaster box.

Break it if you have to.

Pour it all out at His feet — the pain, the joy, the fear, the gift, the calling — and watch what He does with it.

I promise you… it will be more than you ever imagined.

Happy May 🤍