Yaa Mitchell had always been the kind of woman who held everything together. At 38, she was a single mother to 16-year-old Jamal, a dedicated nurse at MK Teaching Hospital, and the primary caregiver for her aging mother, Dorothy, who had been diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer.

Life had never been easy, but Yaa had learned to push through—until the day the hospital announced layoffs, and her name was on the list. That same week, Jamal’s principal called about another skipped class, and the landlord left a notice on her door: Rent increase—30%.

One rainy evening, after another silent dinner with Jamal (who barely looked up from his phone), Yaa sat at the kitchen table, staring at the overdue bills. Her hands trembled as she whispered, “God, I’m so tired. I can’t keep doing this.”

That night, she dreamt she was walking along a desolate shore, her feet sinking into the wet sand with every step. The wind howled, and the waves roared like the fears in her mind. Then she noticed another set of footprints beside hers—larger, deeper, unwavering. A voice, steady and warm, spoke:

“When your heart fails, I remain your strength.”

She woke with a start, her pillow damp with tears. The words of Psalm 73:26 echoed in her spirit:

“My flesh and my heart faileth: but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever.”

Something shifted in her that morning. She didn’t have all the answers, but she made a decision: She would trust God even in the breaking.

She started small. Instead of lecturing Jamal, she sat beside him one evening and said, “I know I haven’t been perfect. But I love you, and I’m here.” He didn’t respond, but the next day, he left her a note: “Sorry, Mom.”

She turned her passion for baking into a side hustle, selling homemade pound cakes and cookies online. The orders trickled in at first, but soon, word spread. A local café even offered to sell her desserts.

When her mother’s health declined, Yaa spent nights by her bedside, reading Scripture and singing old hymns. One evening, Dorothy squeezed her hand weakly and said, “Baby, I’m proud of you. God’s got you—always.”

The day Dorothy passed, Yaa felt the grief like a physical weight. But in her weakest moment, she sensed an unshakeable peace—God was holding her up.

Months later, Jamal surprised her. He hugged her tightly and said, “Mom, I see how hard you’ve been fighting. I see God in you.” Her business was now stable enough to cover rent, and though life wasn’t perfect, Yaa realized:

Her weakness had been the very place where God’s strength carried her.

Life will knock us down. We will face moments where our strength fails, our hearts grow weary, and the road ahead seems impossible. But in those very moments, God whispers:

“I AM your strength. I AM your portion. Hold On. And I will carry you always.”

Our breaking points are not our endings—they are the places where God’s strength takes over. When we feel like we can’t go on, He becomes our unshakeable foundation.

Heavenly Father, when my strength is gone and my heart is failing, remind me that You are my portion. Help me to lean into You, not just when the path is clear, but when the storm is raging. You are my refuge, my rock, and my strength. In Jesus’ name, Amen.