Tag Archives: faith

Covered, Kept, and Loved

Faith and Resilience, Love Month, , , ,

Hey Sweets,

As you know, I’ve been writing these love letters to honor the ways love has shaped my life. And there’s no way I could do this without writing to the One who loved me first.

God,

There’s no love like Yours. No love more patient, more forgiving, more constant. No love that has held me through every season, every joy, every storm the way Yours has.

And if I’m being honest, there was a time I didn’t believe You were real. Childhood trauma and church hurt succeeded in convincing me otherwise. I questioned You, doubted You, even rejected You. But still, You never let me go.

You carried me through things I thought would destroy me. You covered me when I didn’t even know I needed covering. No weapon formed against me has prospered because You have always been my protector, even when I didn’t acknowledge You. I owe my life to You.

You’ve shown me that love isn’t just a feeling; it’s action. It’s the breath in my lungs each morning. It’s the strength You give me to keep going. It’s the grace You extend when I get it wrong, the peace You provide when my heart is heavy.

Psalm 46:5 says, “God is within her; she will not fall. God will help her at break of day.” There have been so many moments when I felt like I was falling, but You always held me up. And now, I stand knowing that no matter what comes, I am never alone.

You’ve taught me that love isn’t about perfection. It’s about surrender. And as much as I desire love in this life, I know that no love will ever compare to Yours. You are my first love, my foundation, the very reason I know how to love at all.

So today, I just want to say thank You.

Thank You for loving me completely, even when I struggled to love myself. Thank You for every answered prayer and even the ones You denied—because I trust You see what I cannot. Thank You for Your presence, for Your patience, for never letting me go.

Psalm 46:10 reminds me to “Be still and know that You are God.” And that’s what I’m choosing to do. To trust You fully. To walk in faith, not fear. To love You not just in words, but in the way I live, in the way I treat others, in the way I surrender to You every day.

Forever Yours,

Your Child, Dorcaste

Honoring Myself and Breaking the Cycle

Healing journey, self love, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Hey Sweets,

I have to be honest because above all, I want to be Tru. Earlier this week, as I reminded myself that I had to post this weekend and began to explore topics, I could feel the discouragement creeping in. It always starts with the thought of procrastination. This is the part of the journey where the excitement starts to fade. The thrill of starting something new gives way to the quiet, often uncomfortable reality of consistency. It’s tempting to stop here—to give myself permission to pause and promise I’ll pick it up later. In the past, this is where I would let the cycle continue: enthusiasm fades, discouragement creeps in, and I give up on what I set out to do. But not this time.

This time, I’m choosing to honor myself and break the cycle.

For as long as I can remember, discipline has been my struggle. I’d tell myself I’d do something, only to find every reason not to. And when I didn’t follow through, I’d criticize myself harshly, as if shame could fuel change. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t. I’m thinking now that maybe this has to do with my fear of being seen, but we can go deeper on that another time. What I’m learning now is that discipline, when rooted in love, is less about perfection and more about showing up—for myself, for my growth, and for the promises I’ve made.

I’ve started to think of this as gentle-parenting myself. When my kids feel discouraged, I don’t scold them or tell them they’re not enough. I offer patience, encouragement, and reminders of what they’re capable of. So why haven’t I done the same for myself? Why have I allowed discouragement to be the end of the story instead of part of the process?

Gentle-parenting myself looks like giving myself grace when I stumble but also holding myself accountable. It’s reminding myself that skipping one blog post might feel easier today, but it would mean breaking a promise to the person I’m becoming. It’s showing myself the same love and encouragement I freely give to others.

Breaking the cycle isn’t easy, but I’m taking intentional steps to do so. For me, it means committing to writing and publishing a blog post every week this year. As long as God keeps me, I will have at least 52 blogs posted by the end of 2025. This commitment is about more than just consistency; it’s about proving to myself that I can follow through, that I’m capable of growth and change. It’s choosing to believe in the person God is shaping me into.

For me, that step today is writing and posting this blog. It’s proof to myself that I can show up even when it feels hard. I can choose growth over comfort, love over fear, and progress over perfection.

Sweets, you’re part of the reason I’m learning to stay consistent. Your presence reminds me that my words matter and that this journey isn’t just about me—it’s about creating space for others to see themselves in these moments of truth. So, thank you for being here and for walking this path with me.

And if you’re in a place where keeping a promise to yourself feels impossible, I want to remind you that small steps count. Whether it’s five minutes of showing up or simply not giving up today, it all matters. Breaking the cycle starts with honoring who you are and believing in who you’re becoming.

With love,
Tru

The Power of Prayer and Believing in Signs

Healing journey, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Hey Sweets,

Have you ever prayed so deeply, so desperately, that you found yourself searching for any glimmer of reassurance that God heard you? I’ve been there, countless times. And each time, without fail, God has shown up—not always in the way I expected, but always in the way I needed.

Magnolia Tru itself is a testament to the power of prayer and belief in signs. Back in 2015, as I prepared to leave my hometown, I was overwhelmed with doubt and fear about what was next. I prayed for clarity, for confirmation that the step I was taking wasn’t just bold—it was right. Shortly after, I went to a painting event with my closest friends. The artist asked us to paint a magnolia tree.

That was my sign.

The magnolia tree, with its strength and beauty, had already been resonating with me. Seeing it materialize during a moment of uncertainty felt like a gentle whisper from God: Keep going. You’re on the right path.

Years later, as I questioned whether reviving Magnolia Tru was the right step, I prayed for clarity. “God, is this really what You want me to do?” I asked. Not long after, I found myself scrolling through TikTok, and the very next video was from a creator named Truly Dorcas.

For anyone else, that might seem like a coincidence, but for me, it was everything. Dorcas is a variation of my name, and I don’t come across it often. Seeing my name reflected so clearly felt like God was saying, This is for you. Trust Me.

Another time, I was in a deep moment of heartbreak, crying out to God to ease my pain and show me He was still with me. My mind tried to convince me that this was the end of my love story and that the future I dreamed of was gone. The next morning, as I sat in bed, the sun shining through my window caught my attention. The trees outside had created a perfect heart, with light streaming through it, casting the shape right into my room.

It was a moment of divine peace, a visual reminder of God’s love. He was telling me, This isn’t the end. I’m with you. Trust that I have something better planned.

Recently, I was praying and telling God that if He blessed me with a large financial breakthrough, it would help me so much. Right after finishing my prayer and starting my car, J. Cole’s “Love Yourz” began playing on the radio. The lyrics reminded me to focus on gratitude and contentment—that while blessings come, the love and stability I already have are priceless.

Sweets, Remember This

Prayer isn’t just about asking God for what you want; it’s about opening your heart to see the signs of His presence in your life. The signs He sends are often small but powerful reminders that you’re not walking this journey alone.

In the hardest moments—whether it’s heartbreak, uncertainty, or grief—remember that healing often comes from knowing you are seen, heard, and deeply loved. Signs may appear as a name on a screen, sunlight through a window, or a song on the radio. They’re not there to erase the pain, but to remind you that you’re being guided through it.

Healing takes time, patience, and trust. When you pray and stay open to God’s whispers, you’ll find the strength to keep moving forward. Embrace the journey, knowing that each step is bringing you closer to the peace and joy you deserve.

With love,
Tru

Farewell, 2024: Reflecting on a Year of Pain, Growth, and Gratitude

Faith and Resilience, Grief and growth, Healing journey, self love, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Hey Sweets,

As I sit here reflecting on the past year, I feel a whirlwind of emotions—grief, growth, gratitude, and everything in between. 2024 was a year that stretched me in ways I didn’t think possible. It was a year of deep pain and profound lessons, but also of unexpected joy, strengthened faith, and a clearer vision of the life I want to live.

The year began with me in recovery from an emergency hysterectomy, a life-altering event that left me grappling with physical and emotional changes. Shortly after, I received news that could have been devastating: I had cancer of the appendix. But even before the diagnosis, God had already spoken healing over my life. By the time I heard the words, the battle had already been won, and I was cancer-free.

In the midst of recovery, my heart was tested. A relationship I thought would be my last came to an abrupt end, broken by betrayal. It was a painful reminder that not every connection is meant to come with you into your next season. Grieving that loss, alongside the changes in my body and the life I thought I was building, was overwhelming.

This year also brought the passing of my father, a loss that shook me to my core. It wasn’t just his death I mourned—it was the dreams I had attached to him, the future I envisioned with him in it, and the version of myself I thought he’d see.

That grief layered on top of the loss I was still carrying from 2022, when my aunt passed away. Grief isn’t linear. It doesn’t come in tidy waves or leave when you want it to. It has a way of showing up when you least expect it, demanding to be felt.

This year taught me to stop running from grief and to make room for it. I learned that grieving isn’t just about mourning what’s gone; it’s about letting go of what could have been and finding peace in what is.

But 2024 wasn’t all grief and loss. It was also a year of joy, community, and growth.

I grew closer to God in ways I hadn’t experienced before. Through the challenges, I leaned on Him more deeply, and He revealed His presence in every step of the journey. Whether it was declaring me cancer-free before a diagnosis, guiding me through heartbreak, or showing me the beauty of stillness, God reminded me that I am never alone.

This year, I also had the privilege of holding my first back-to-school giveback. Seeing the joy and gratitude in the faces of children and their families reminded me of the power of community and giving. It was a moment that filled my heart and reminded me why I do what I do.

Every birthday this year was a celebration of life, not just for me but for the people I love. Despite the challenges, I found joy in those moments, knowing how precious each day truly is.

And while some relationships came to an end, others grew stronger. I realized that not every loss is a setback; sometimes, it’s God clearing the way for deeper, more meaningful connections.

On Christmas Eve, as I looked around my home, I was overwhelmed by gratitude. For the first time, I saw it clearly: I am living in an answered prayer. Stability, peace, and a safe space for my family—these were once distant dreams, and now they are my reality.

Sweets, Remember This

As we step into 2025, let’s remember that rest is just as important as action. Slowing down doesn’t mean giving up—it means prioritizing peace, stability, and the blessings we’ve already received.

For me, 2025 will be a year of intentional rest and reflection. I’ve decided to bow out of the rat race and make Sundays sacred—a day to reset, recharge, and honor God’s provision.

Wherever you are in your journey, take a moment to pause, look around, and give thanks. You may find that you’re living in parts of your answered prayers right now.

Here’s to a new year filled with grace, growth, and the courage to rest.

Thanks for reading,
Tru