love letter 01: God Writes The Best Stories

I used to think I needed to control the narrative.

If I could just plan everything perfectly—make the right choices, avoid the wrong turns—then life would unfold exactly as I imagined.

I tried every cheat code I could think of. I read all the books, learned my Natal Chart, absorbed all the wisdom from experts, followed every “proven” method. I took the advice, made the vision boards, mapped out the steps.

And yet, no matter how much I strategized, no matter how perfectly I tried to script my life, I kept running into one unshakable truth:

God has the final word. His timing—Divine Timing—will always override my best-laid plans.

As it turns out: God is the best storyteller.

Yes, I’ve written much of my life into existence. I’ve spoken my dreams aloud, scripted visions onto pages long before they became reality. I’ve even taught others how to do the same.

And to this day, former clients still reach out—reminding me of all the things they’ve manifested since our scripting sessions together. How they took what once lived only on the page and, through faith and action, stepped into the very dreams they once wrote down.

"Then the Lord answered me and said: 'Write the vision and make it plain on tablets, that he may run who reads it. For the vision is yet for an appointed time; but at the end it will speak, and it will not lie. Though it tarries, wait for it; because it will surely come, it will not tarry.” - Habakkuk 2:2-3 (NKJV)

They made the vision plain. And now? They’re living it.

I’ve shared before that I’ve been doing this since I was a child, long before I even understood what I was doing.

It wasn’t until I stumbled upon an article about Octavia Butler in adulthood that I realized—this practice of writing my future into being wasn’t just some wishful ritual. It was something deeper. I was unintentionally, writing with intention - ha!

Writing has always been my go-to. My place of clarity. My diary my safe space. And maybe, just maybe, it’s not that I was writing my life into existence at all.

Maybe it’s that, in the quiet—the sacred stillness of putting pen to paper or fingers to keys—I could hear God the loudest.

Maybe I was never just creating my future.

Maybe I was receiving it.

Maybe I was writing down direction He had already set for me, making plans that aligned with His will, capturing the seeds He knew would eventually blossom.

Maybe all this time, my words weren’t my own. Maybe they were whispers from the Author Himself.

Wait.

Did I just have a major aha moment while writing this?

gasp

Let’s pause here for a moment, gang. Just…sit with this. Because wow.

All this time, I thought I was the one writing my future into existence. But what if—what if—I was really just transcribing what God had already set in motion? What if, in those quiet moments, when my pen met the page and my thoughts poured out, I wasn’t just creating—I was receiving?

What if every time I wrote down a dream, a plan, a vision, I was simply documenting what had already been planted in my spirit?

Whew. I need a second to take that in.

Friends, when I really sit with it—and maybe you’ve felt this too—I can’t help but realize: Every plot twist, every unexpected detour, every season that didn’t unfold the way I had imagined… it was all leading somewhere far more beautiful than I ever could have scripted for myself.

There were chapters I wanted to skip. Pages I wanted to tear out. Moments I pleaded with God to rewrite because they felt too heavy, too uncertain, too painful. And then there were the seasons of silence—the ones where the pages of my life felt blank, where I questioned whether the story was even moving forward at all.

But now, looking back? I see it.

His fingerprints are everywhere.

The closed doors? Divine redirections.
The heartbreaks? Refining fires.
The waiting seasons? Necessary pauses—God’s steady hand over mine, His voice whispering: Trust Me.

And that’s the thing about faith, isn’t it? It’s trusting the Author even when you don’t understand the plot. It’s believing that the twists and turns aren’t meant to break you but to shape you.

After the reckoning that was 2022 and 2023, I thought, Okay, we have to move on now. It’s time for something else to happen, huh? You know how it is—the new year rolls in, and suddenly, there’s this pressure to do. To make plans. To set things in motion. And even though I thought I had surrendered fully in 2023, that nagging little voice still whispered, You have to do this. You should be doing that.

So I tried in 2024.

And nothing.

Doors wouldn’t open. Things still wouldn’t click. No matter how much effort I put in, I kept hitting walls. I’d come home, frustrated, venting to my husband, “I guess I’m just going to write, because that’s all I’ve got!” And he, in the calmest way, would say, “Yes. Go write. Stop worrying about everything else.”

And I’d push back—because surely I couldn’t just sit there reading and writing all day when there was adulting to be done. That felt irresponsible. And every time, he’d remind me: Maybe that’s all you’re supposed to be doing in this season—reading, writing, taking care of home and yourself. When it’s the right time, you’ll know what to do next. Just relax.

So eventually, I stopped fighting it. Because what else was there to do?

God had me in the waiting room.
He wasn’t answering any prayers.
He sat me down.

And slowly, so slowly, I found joy in that season.

I found even more joy in my lifelong love of reading—connecting with others who felt the same. Once our home build was completed, I rediscovered the beauty of homemaking, of making this house a home. And writing?

I looked up at the end of 2024 and realized…

I had written two serialized novels and four novellas.

People were actually calling me a writer.

And then—out of nowhere—one of my most engaged readers made a TikTok, sharing that one of my stories (Derek’s Destiny) was her favorite book of 2024.

What?

What I thought was another waiting season turned out to be one of the most transformative.

And I know—someday, when I sit down to write my memoir—it won’t be the big, flashy moments that stand out the most. It will be this season. The quiet one. The one where I once felt like my hands were tied behind my back. The one where I wondered if God was even listening anymore.

Because now, I see it clearly—that was the foundation being laid for everything to come.

The moment I stopped fighting—stopped trying to pray or write my way out of it—and instead gave God my gratitude like I already knew how to do, something shifted. That restless, urgent feeling that I needed to get it together faded. I found my center again.

And now? Instead of resisting this season, I praise Him for it.

If there’s one thing I know now, it’s this: God never wastes a season.

The story He’s writing for you behind the scenes is beyond anything you could have plotted for yourself. The detours, the delays, the chapters that feel uncertain—none of it is wasted. It’s all leading somewhere, shaping you in ways you can’t yet see.

What feels like a standstill is often sacred preparation. What seems like silence is sometimes the deepest work happening beneath the surface. And what we call waiting? He calls becoming.

I don’t know what season you’re in right now—maybe you feel stuck, unseen, or like the story isn’t moving forward fast enough. Maybe you’re doing all you can, and still, the doors won’t open. But if I’ve learned anything, it’s that God is always writing, even when we can’t see the next page.

And Spoiler Alert: When God writes the story, redemption is always woven into the ending.

So take a breath. Release the pressure. Trust the timing.

Because when God is the storyteller, the best is never behind you.

It’s still unfolding.

With love,

Jhéanell