Put Your Troubles in a Hat

G=Goals O=Outlook A=Authentic T=Truth (#coateisaGOAT)

If you know me at all, you know I’m originally from South Alabama, transplanted to the Florida Panhandle almost 9 years ago. And if you know that much, then you probably also know I’ve got plenty of southern sayings that have followed me over here and become a little bit of my signature. One of those is:

“Put your troubles in a hat…”

I’ve said it for years. It’s one of those phrases that sounds simple and maybe even a little funny at first, but the older I get, the more I realize just how much truth it holds.

This week, I found myself wanting to pull that saying back out and really sit with it. Because sometimes life has a way of reminding you that perspective is everything.

This week, I caught myself complaining about being tired and still not feeling adjusted from springing forward. And listen — I still do not love losing that hour of sleep. I probably never will. But in the middle of my little frustration, someone basically said, “Let me tell you about my week,” and then began sharing all that they had been carrying — concerns about their children, issues with their pets, and one hard thing after another.

And just like that, my perspective shifted.

Because if all I really have to complain about right now is spring forward and being a little short on sleep, then truthfully, I’m doing just fine.

That doesn’t mean our struggles aren’t real. It doesn’t mean we aren’t allowed to feel tired or frustrated or overwhelmed sometimes. But I do think there is something powerful about looking around and remembering that we all carry something. And if there really were one giant hat out there where everybody tossed their troubles in, I think most of us would take one look around, quietly reach back in, and pull our own right back out.

Not because they’re easy. But because perspective has a way of reminding us just how much grace has already covered us.

Then this morning at church, the message was all about telling your story. About testimony. About how your testimony is your victory. About how the Lord is constantly writing your story, if you’ll let Him.

That one landed deep for me. Because I can tell you the exact moment when I finally relinquished the pen. I can still see it so clearly — standing in the shower after my failed marriage, completely humbled, completely emptied out, and finally at the point where I just had to say, “Okay, I get it. I’m not in control.”

That was the moment.

That was the moment I backed up and surrendered. The moment I stopped trying so hard to author every detail myself and started trusting the Lord to write the story instead. And I can honestly say that since then, I have watched His hand move over and over and over again in my life. Not always in big flashy ways. Not always in ways the world would immediately notice. But in the steady, faithful, unmistakable ways that only He can. In the opened doors. In the closed ones, too. In the peace that doesn’t make sense. In the timing. In the redirection. In the little reminders that say, “See? I’ve got you. I always have.”

It happened again this week.

One of my teachers needed to meet with me, and during that conversation, he shared something the Lord had laid on his heart. It was the kind of conversation that carries weight because it may lead him in a different direction, possibly away from my school. And of course, from a human standpoint, those conversations can feel hard. You care about people. You value what they bring. You don’t necessarily want change.

But at the same time, how could I be anything but excited for someone who is trying to follow what the Lord is calling him to do? If he can come in and say, “This is what the Lord has put on my heart,” then I have to respect that. More than that, I can celebrate it. Because if I say I believe God writes our stories, then I have to believe that for other people, too.

And another thing I say all the time is that there are no accidents. I truly believe that. I believe the Lord is at work in ways we don’t always recognize in the moment. I believe He leaves little confirmations along the way — little Godwinks — if we’re paying attention.

And sure enough, at the beginning of that conversation, I found myself talking about something connected to his situation in a way that almost immediately felt like confirmation. Like the Lord, in His kindness, was just gently underlining the moment and saying, “Yes. This. Pay attention.”

That is what keeps happening when I back up enough to see the bigger picture. The Lord shows up. Over and over and over again, He shows up.

Even today, I almost didn’t go to church. I was tired, moving slowly, and tempted to stay home. But I got up and went, and I’m so glad I did. It was an incredible message on a beautiful day, and it felt like another reminder that when we show up, when we listen, when we surrender, when we stop gripping the pen so tightly — He meets us there.

That is what I want my life to reflect. I want to tell my story. Not because I think my story is so special in and of itself, but because I know who the Author is. And every good thing in it points back to Him.

I want to be a reflection of Him. I want to let Him write His story through me. I want to be used for His good. I want my life to point people toward the peace that only He can give. I want people to know that no matter what they are facing, He really can work all things together for good.

Even the hard parts. Even the disappointing parts. Even the chapters we never would have chosen.

So yes, this week reminded me to put my troubles in a hat. To look up. To look around. To regain perspective. To remember how much I have been given. To trust the One holding the pen.

And more than anything, to stay grateful that the Lord is still writing the story. Because He writes it so much better than I ever could.