How do we breathe when life keeps knocking the wind out of us?
In the first few days of February I found myself in a familiar place—sitting alone in a NICU holding my beautiful daughter in my arms. I had been here before with all three of my daughters—in 2020 when my three-week-old daughter was dangerously sick with RSV, in the final days of 2022 when my now two-year-old daughter was born premature, and in the early days of February 2025 found myself back in a different NICU, with another preterm baby girl.
Here I found myself again, gently whispering into tiny, newborn ears,
“Just breathe baby girl, just breathe.”
Born four weeks early, she was the most perfect little doll—her tiny lips puckered, newborn fingers curled into tiny fists, and her body folding into the perfect shape to cocoon right into mine. We should have been home by now, I thought to myself over the course of the week—figuring out the arguing between the siblings as to who holds her first, spending time with grandparents, and making early morning coffee to offset the around-the-clock newborn feedings.
But we weren’t home, we were held in waiting—waiting for this tiny baby’s breath to be consistent and steady enough to begin our newborn days at home.
As the sunlight streamed through the NICU room’s window, I realized it had almost been a week since I’d stepped foot outside and felt the sun on my skin. As my eyes followed the light streaming in, they rested upon a cross which hung on the wall. The cross was just high enough so the eyes that gazed at it had to look up—to remind those sitting within the curtained off walls that they were held in the palms of the Savior. A reminder of their importance. A reminder that the tiny, precious life in the little incubator or crib was being watched over. A reminder to just keep breathing—one breath at a time.
There are seasons in life where every breath is hard to breathe. Where breathing is all we have to offer.
Breath is imperative to our lives. We would not survive if our bodies did not inhale and exhale the chemicals our systems needed or didn’t need. Our bodies instinctively breathe—from the first moment we’re born to the last breath we take on this earth. For the most part, there’s little thought we generally give to the method of breathing—moment after moment, day in and day out.
The reality is that our lives ebb and flow—we breathe in and out. When the circumstances of life seem to knock the breath out of our lungs—what then? When every breath feels like a sharp pain or a drowning gasp, our lives become so narrowed on just breathing and surviving. Life seems to swirl around us at warped speed, and we’re moving in slow motion just trying to get out of bed in the morning and get food in our mouths.
How do we breathe when we have no air and are just trying to survive?
How do we breathe when the world seems to be getting more divided?
How do we breathe when our worst fears become reality?
How do we breathe when our life is crashing down around us?
How do we breathe when we feel so lonely?
When we encounter seasons where breath feels labored and hard to come by—I invite you to resist with everything in you, responding as our culture does. Living countercultural is hard, painstaking work.
However, in the moments of life when we need God the most—I notice that it’s when we turn the most frequently to our mindless scroll, raging anger, apathy, need for control, and (you fill in the blank).
Yet all the while, when we lift our heads from a place we’re trying to live numbly, we’re still gasping for air in the tumultuous waves of life. We fill our verbiage with expectations of ourselves, others, and God that only leave us feeling more empty and lonely when they’re not fulfilled.
We long for answers. We long to fill our own lungs with the breath we “think” we need as opposed to the simple breath we always have available to us. The breath we need does not come from ourselves and our human bodies. It does not come from a good book, inspirational podcast, or the latest life hack.
We breathe because of God.
His breath becomes ours.
Wherever you are in life, dear soul, I imagine that the God of the universe is sitting quietly next to you, not giving you empty platitudes or mindless advice.
I imagine Him whispering ever so softly,
“I’m right here. Just keep breathing. Just keep breathing.
Inhale My love,
exhale your fear.
Inhale My hope,
exhale your desired outcome.
Inhale My provision,
exhale your need for control.”
My friend, there is always hope in circumstances that seem too devastating and void of life.
Breathe.
You are held.
Breathe.
You are seen.
Breathe.
You are important.
Breathe.
You are beloved.
Breathe.
“The Lord will fight for you, you need only be still1.”
May we be invited into a deeper inhale and exhale of God’s steadying breath into our life.
May we slow ourselves down in this season to notice the life-giving breaths of God.
May we hold kindness for ourselves—as just our breathing is enough for God.
Substack always offers their writers the option to open up for paid subscriptions. I know many writers on this platform offer this to their subscribers, but for me, I hope to always keep what I offer here in this space free of charge. My husband and I serve in support-based missions work in diaspora ministry, specifically in refugee care. If you want to support my writing—you could give a one-time or recurring donation to our ministry and that would be a huge blessing.
Exodus 14:14
Praying you and your beautiful daughter are reunited with your family as our Lord continues to help you breathe in His love and protection. 🙏
Beautiful words! My prayers are with you and your family, that you may all reside together shortly.