When you live with high-functioning anxiety like I do, finding mental peace can be incredibly challenging. Quiet solitude feels like a rare and elusive treasure. Now, six months after my last update, I’m finally trying to find a haven to soothe my anxious heart and mind. Despite being on an extravagant anniversary retreat generously arranged by my husband, my thoughts are still tethered to work, which continues to exert a tight hold on my mental health.
Yesterday, while spending time in reflection with the Lord, I revisited my digital diary to review past entries. In March, I had written about the need to start over, asking God to fill me with hope when it felt completely absent, and my heart was utterly devoid of it. By April it escalated, and my entry was titled “Panic,” revealing the overwhelming anxiety that gripped my heart.
This cycle seems relentless: I fill my mind with noise, succumb to worry, and then doubt begins to creep in. I drown in noise, succumb to worry, and then doubt begins to creep in. My mind erupts in chaos and pandemonium—a loud, invisible battle that remains unseen by others. Or so it seems to me.
Now is the time to trust. To release. To know I am blessed beyond measure.
So utterly favored that I was given a beautiful gift yesterday as I sat on an empty cabana overlooking the Caribbean Sea. The moment was deeply personal, but I want to share it because I know I am not alone on this journey. There in my moment of meditation and pondering, asking God to quiet my soul, lo and behold – a gift of nature. As I gazed out, a tiny hummingbird appeared before me—an exquisite, unexpected blessing given without condition.
Here’s a glimpse of my profound communion with the Creator of the universe. I have taken out some very specific details but read what the hummingbird symbolizes.
Photo by Chris Charles on Unsplash
Lord, I sit before you with my eyes facing a vast ocean, reminding me of how big my world is. You say work is not my end. It is not my future. Yet here I am worried and fearful of what will be when I get back. Please Lord, open my eyes to see what I cannot see. You have never left me at any crossroads of my life. This one is very difficult for me Lord. The burden is very heavy, so I am crying out to you Lord. I know you said my breakthrough is here.
Here is my answer my child.
Nothing is too difficult for me to handle. I am giving you what you need for your breakthrough. You need to listen and trust. Trust that I am giving you what you need. Restoration is coming. You will burst forth from within with joy. Fear is not your future.
Don’t be afraid to step out in faith. Don’t be afraid to hit new grounds. I have asked you to dream again with me. You are not done yet my dear. You are not nearly done. Isaiah 30:15: “You will be delivered by returning and resting; your strength will lie in quiet confidence”
As the hummingbird moves, his wings are invisible to you so is the work of my hands. Nevertheless, something remarkable is happening. This is what the Lord says: “Look, I am about to do something new; even now it is coming. Do you not see it?” (Isa. 43:19).
My mercy comes every morning. It’s new each day. I give you rest and solitude. It’s for. Rest in quiet confidence that I am at work. Learn to lean in and be guided. This week is your gift of silence.
I began exploring the significance of the hummingbird, and its symbolism struck me deeply. Despite their tiny size, hummingbirds can hover in place, fly forwards, sideways, and even backwards, exhibiting a remarkable paradox of nature. They embody both stillness and movement simultaneously, which speaks volumes to me. Most of the articles I’ve read describe the presence of a hummingbird as a message of peace and tranquility, symbolizing resilience and strength. They impart a sense of calmness amidst life’s challenges. This is my message from up above – that my strength will lie in quiet confidence that God is at work still. He is not done.
As I sit here today writing this post, the dark clouds in this paradise have moved on after bringing in the much-needed rain. They seem to mirror my own mental landscape: blue skies make an appearance, only for storm clouds to gather slowly, eventually pouring down in a torrent. Yet, as swiftly as the storm came, the skies clear again.
There is a new promise of blue skies and maybe another hummingbird visit. My mind is a constant battleground, but I will remember the gift of the hummingbird.
Vian Wheatley 