We document all kinds of things: tax information, gas mileage, budgets…because it helps us stay organized, prepared, and on track. But what if we approached our prayer life the same way?
In the past couple of decades, I’ve become a bit of a compulsive journalist. Sometimes with pen and paper, sometimes voice memos, sometimes digital journaling. If I couldn’t write fast enough to keep up with my thoughts, I recorded them. But for some reason, I rarely, if ever, wrote down my prayers.
Even though I’ve always been a woman of prayer, that particular intersection (journaling and praying) hadn’t come together for me. Not until recently. And when they did, I learned something beautiful: writing down your prayers allows you to look back and see God’s faithfulness in a way memory alone cannot offer. It creates a testimony.
Wandering the Wilderness
Anyone who knows me knows I’ve been walking through a wilderness season. After 22 years of marriage, I divorced in 2007 and suddenly found myself navigating a world I was never prepared for. I hadn’t been allowed to pursue a career or education while married, so there I was, mid-40s, trying to figure out how to survive and support my kids. They became my whole world, and I poured everything I had into raising them.
After a string of dead-end jobs, I went back to college in 2017, and graduated with honors in 2022. But the job market was tough. In 2023, I moved from Colorado Springs to Minneapolis to be closer to family, but leaving behind everything I had built in a job network.
I prayed. I journaled. I cried out to God, especially about not being able to find a church home. I even interviewed at several churches, but nothing fit.
In March of 2025, after losing a beloved mentor, I took a hard look at my life and made a few decisions. I’m so grateful I journaled at least some of what I was feeling, because now I can look back and see how the Holy Spirit was guiding me even then.
Three Prayers I Finally Wrote Down
1. I decided to stop interviewing for jobs in churches and just find a church home. I needed to be rooted. I needed spiritual soil, not just a paycheck.
2. I opened my heart to the idea of dating again. I had long accepted that I might be alone forever. I was at peace with my books, watercolors, ice cream dinners, my guitar, and Jesus. But I took a leap. I stopped idolizing solitude and let myself consider that someone might actually pursue me, and I would let them.
3. I prayed the Prayer of Jabez. I asked boldly—for a job, for love, for increase. And for the first time, I wrote it down.
The Wilderness Breaks, and Then…
In mid-July, within the same week, two prayers were seemingly answered: I landed a temp job, and I was asked out by someone who fit nearly everything I had prayed for.
Let me clarify: It wasn’t Ryan Gosling. But this man checked many of the boxes on my “list”, such as shared faith, overlapping life paths, and a writer like me.
Kindness. Intentionality. It was sweet. Surprising. And I was overcome with joy. For the first time in years, I went to sleep happy and woke up rejoicing.
But I hadn’t written down the details of those prayers. I couldn’t go back and say, “Wow, look how God answered.” I missed the opportunity to testify because I didn’t document what I had asked.
And then, just one week later, both things were gone. The job fell through. And the relationship ended suddenly, for superficial reasons, and without any meaningful conversation.
I Dare Not Trust the Sweetest Frame
I thought I’d finally stepped into the promised land. The familiarity, shared faith, and mutual friends made it feel safe. But safety isn’t always the same as stability.
One moment we were exchanging books over dinner, making plans to meet family and friends. The next, he was gone. No explanation. Just a relationship status change on Facebook. The same man who told me the night before on FaceTime, “You’re not alone anymore.”
“A bruised reed he will not break.” (Isaiah 42:3)
Lessons from the Wilderness
I’m walking away more open. More aware. I’ve learned to ask deeper questions upfront. Questions that matter. And if that makes someone uncomfortable? So be it. Let them walk away.
I was going to have the “how do you handle conflict?” conversation with him when he got back from his trip. We never got there. Instead, I got the answer the hard way: he avoids it. Discomfort equals exit. And apparently, it equals breakup by social media.
Don’t Rush the Wilderness
It’s so easy to mistake an oasis for a miracle when you’re desperate for relief. But not everything that seems “good” is from God. The Spirit will never contradict Himself. Test what looks appealing. Ask the Lord for discernment.
“God is my provider.”
Not a job. Not a man. Not a false promise dressed in Christian packaging. Just Jesus.
So now, I journal my prayers. Not just for the sake of process, but because I want to testify. I want to see how far He’s brought me, and how faithful He’s been.
Because He has been. Even in the wilderness. Especially in the wilderness.