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Healing from Within, Clear Spring, MD (2025)

11/23/2025

When the Holy Spirit Speaks Into the Storm

There are moments in life when the weight we’re carrying feels too heavy to name.

And then there are moments when the Holy Spirit speaks right into the middle of that weight… and something shifts.

When I was walking through the deepest, darkest betrayal I had ever faced — the kind of heartbreak that steals your breath — the Holy Spirit whispered in my right ear, as clear as if someone was sitting beside me:

“Lay down beside the still waters… I’m already there.”
It took me straight to Psalm 23.

And everything in me responded:
Okay God… I’ll lay it down.
Okay God… I trust that You are already there.

Okay God… You’ve got this, even when I don’t understand the next step, the outcome, or the reason.

I didn’t have answers.
But I had His presence.

And that changed everything.

Most people who saw me during that season had no idea the storm I was walking through.

Not because I was strong — but because I had that sweet peace that passes all understanding, the kind no words can truly explain.

That peace is what I want others to experience.

My purpose — the very heartbeat behind Healing From Within —
is to point people to a personal relationship with their Heavenly Father.
Especially in the middle of the storm.

To pray,
“God, reveal what I need to understand so You can heal what I cannot reach.”

As the healing began, my prayers changed.
I moved from praying for protection…
to praying for healing, revelation, and discernment.

“Lord, show me the intentions of every heart involved.”
“Lord, expose what needs to be exposed.”
“Lord, strengthen me for the spiritual battle I cannot see.”

Because I knew — this wasn’t flesh and blood.
This was spiritual warfare.

And the moment I surrendered ,
the moment I chose to lay down beside the still waters —
I discovered that He truly was already there.

🤍

11/20/2025

The Season of Rest… in Restoration

There comes a point in healing where God doesn’t ask you to push harder, pray louder, or keep moving at the same pace you always have.

Instead, He whispers something softer…
“Rest here for a while.”

Rest doesn’t always look like slowing down on the outside.

Sometimes it looks like letting your soul breathe again.

It looks like choosing quiet over chaos.

It looks like stepping back from the places that drained you and returning to the places that refill you.

It looks like allowing God to rebuild what life broke — not in a rush, but in a rhythm.

“He makes me lie down in green pastures;
He leads me beside still waters.
He restores my soul.”
Psalm 23:2–3

Rest is not laziness.
Rest is not weakness.
Rest is not giving up.
Rest is God’s way of saying,
“I’m restoring you from the inside out.”

Restoration happens in the unseen spaces — the parts of you no one applauds, no one notices, no one understands… but God does.

He rebuilds strength in the silence.

He rewrites peace after the storm.

He stitches together the pieces your heart didn’t know how to hold.

And He prepares you for the next season by honoring the season you’re in right now.

“In returning and rest you shall be saved;
in quietness and trust shall be your strength.”
Isaiah 30:15

If you’re in a season of rest… don’t fight it.

Don’t apologize for it.

Don’t rush yourself through it.

This is where the real healing begins.

Let God restore you slowly, fully, beautifully.

Because when this season of rest has finished its work, you won’t rise as the same person who entered it.

You’ll rise steadier.
Clearer.
Stronger.
Whole from the inside out.

Healing from Within

11/15/2025

When My Hugger Broke

I’ve always been a hugger.
Not just the “hey there!” kind of hugger—no, the deep breath, slow exhale, healing in the middle of the squeeze kind of hugger.

I believe with all my heart that the right hug from the right person can shift something on the inside.

I’ve received those hugs… especially from my son. His arms around me do something that words simply can’t.

But there was a season March of 2024—when my hugger broke.

It didn’t happen all at once.
It was a slow unraveling… a quiet ache I didn’t have language for yet.
I remember walking through days where the simple act of hugging someone felt impossible.
I could hug my beautiful clients at Oasis, because that’s the safe, holy work God entrusted to my hands.
But outside of that?
I had nothing left to give.
I didn’t feel worthy to hug.
I didn’t feel strong enough to be held.

So I would walk past people with a nod instead of an embrace… praying they didn’t take it personally, while I silently tried to make sense of the emptiness in my own chest.

My heart had been stretched, bruised, shaken, and exhausted—and the part of me that once poured out comfort just shut down.

But something happened on a long, quiet, solo road trip. Somewhere between the miles, the music, the whispered prayers, the long talks with God, and the way the road gently pushes you to face yourself… I found my hugger again.

I found her in the quiet walks where my feet matched the rhythm of my breathing.

I found her in the silent sunrises that washed me in gold before the world woke up.

I found her in the sunsets that felt like God’s hand cupping my face.

I found her in the pages of my Bible—steady, familiar, alive.

I found her in the prayers I didn’t know how to pray out loud.

I found her in old friends who still knew my heart.

I found her in the boundaries God gently taught me to build.

I found her in the peace I protected like treasure.

I found her in the deep healing only God can do.

And slowly… gently… quietly… my hugger came back.

Not the same as before.
Wiser.
More cautious.
More intentional.
More Spirit-led.

Because here’s the truth I had to learn:
Not everyone deserves a healing hug.
Not every heart is ready.
Not every soul is safe.
Not every assignment is mine.

When you’re a natural giver—someone who pours out without hesitation—you forget sometimes that your cup is not bottomless.
Healing hugs aren’t just squeezes; they’re ministry.

They carry weight, compassion, intercession, and spiritual exchange.

And Holy Spirit has been teaching me something so tender:

“Tammy Sue, don’t just hug everyone. Hug the ones I’ve prepared.”

That changed everything.
Now I listen—really listen—for the whisper of the Holy Spirit.

I pay attention to the nudge inside.
I let peace be my filter.
I let wisdom be my guide.
I don’t hug from emptiness anymore.
I hug from overflow.
From healing.
From purpose.

And I trust that God will place the right people in front of me—the ones who need the warmth, the encouragement, and the healing He wants to pour through me.

Because He is awesome like that.
He sends us on assignments we don’t even realize we’re on until the moment comes… and suddenly, that hug isn’t just a hug—it’s heaven touching earth for one sacred second.

I’m hugging again.
And this time, I’m hugging with wisdom, with grace, with boundaries, with peace, and with a heart that’s still healing… but healing beautifully.
In my healing era,
Tammy Sue 💛

11/12/2025

You can give love without losing yourself.

This week has been heavy.
There’s been loss, late-night prayers, and a quiet kind of ache that doesn’t always have words.
I’ve stood beside people who are hurting, and while I’m grateful to be someone others trust with their pain, I’ve also realized something important…
I’m still healing too.

When we’ve walked through deep things — betrayal, grief, heartbreak, disappointment — sometimes being around pain can reopen tender places in our own hearts.
It doesn’t mean we’re weak or selfish; it just means we’re human.
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
— Psalm 34:18
This week reminded me that compassion and boundaries can coexist.
I can love deeply and still admit, “I’m not ready to carry this one all the way.”
I can pray for others and still protect the peace God is restoring in me.
I can show up — but I don’t have to pour from an empty cup.
“Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
— Matthew 11:28
If you’ve been trying to hold it all together while quietly hurting inside, please hear this: it’s okay to pause.
It’s okay to care without overextending.
Healing isn’t about doing more; it’s about allowing God to meet you where you are — tender, tired, and still learning how to breathe again.
“He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.”
— Isaiah 40:29
Tonight, I’m choosing to rest in that grace.
To let the tears that needed to fall, fall.
To let the noise settle.
To remember that I don’t have to be everything for everyone — I just have to stay close to the One who is everything for me.
💛

10/30/2025

When the Mind Replays, the Body Remembers

“Be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—His good, pleasing and perfect will.”
Romans 12:2

There was a season when my mind would not stop.
Even when my body was still, my thoughts were running laps around the pain — replaying conversations, analyzing every detail, wondering how I could have prevented the heartbreak.

I didn’t realize that while my thoughts were spinning, my body was absorbing the warfare.

God designed our minds, bodies, and spirits to work in harmony.
But when trauma enters, that harmony is disrupted.
Every time I revisited the betrayal, my brain sounded the alarm again — flooding my body with cortisol, tightening my chest, stiffening my joints, and stirring inflammation.

My spirit longed for peace, but my body was still fighting a battle my mind refused to release.

The enemy loves to trap us there — in the loop of what ifs and whys — because a restless mind keeps us from a healed heart.
But Jesus came to break those cycles.
When we surrender our overthinking to Him, we give the Holy Spirit permission to renew our minds, calm our bodies, and realign our hearts with His truth.

Peace doesn’t come from figuring it all out; peace comes when we hand it over.
Healing begins not when the memory disappears, but when the presence of Christ fills the space it once occupied.

Let’s Pray Together
Holy Spirit,
I invite You into the places my thoughts have wandered without You.

Every time my mind replays the pain, remind me that You have already overcome it.

Break the cycle of anxiety that floods my body with fear and teach me to rest in Your Word.

I release the stress that has taken root in my muscles, the tension that has worn down my peace, and the lie that I must understand everything before I can heal.

Fill me with Your presence, Lord.
Renew my mind,
restore my body, and
revive my spirit.
In Jesus’ name, amen.
I Challenge You
When your mind begins to replay the pain, pause and speak life over yourself:

🕊 “My body belongs to God. My mind is being renewed.
My peace is protected.”

Then open your Bible to Romans 8:6 —
“The mind governed by the Spirit is life and peace.”

Let that truth wash over you until your heart quiets.

Remember — healing from within isn’t about forgetting the past.
It’s about allowing Jesus to step into the memory and silence the chaos with His peace.

10/16/2025

Wandering the Wilderness

“Remember how the Lord your God led you all the way in the wilderness these forty years, to humble and test you in order to know what was in your heart…”
— Deuteronomy 8:2

There are moments in life when I can’t help but look back and wonder —
What if I had gone when He called?
Over thirty years ago, I felt the stirring to go to the Philippines as a missionary.
I can still remember that unmistakable pull — a gentle nudge from the Holy Spirit that said, “Go.” But I didn’t.

I chose another path, one filled with twists, lessons, and detours that led me through my own wilderness.

Sometimes I wonder what my life might have looked like had I obeyed that call.
Would I have avoided some of the pain?
Would I have learned the lessons earlier, in a gentler way?
But as I’ve grown older, I’ve realized that while I may have missed that golden opportunity, I did not miss God’s hand upon my life.

Even in my wandering, He never threw me away.
He was still leading, still loving, still teaching — even when I was off the path.

The wilderness wasn’t wasted.

It became the classroom where my faith matured, my compassion deepened, and my understanding of grace became real.

Today, I can’t go back and rewrite that chapter.
But I can live with purpose now. I can become the woman I wish I’d had in my life back then — the one who listens to God’s whispers, who speaks truth with gentleness, who believes in His timing even when the path feels lonely or unclear.

Maybe that’s what redemption really looks like — when we use the wisdom born from our wanderings to guide someone else through theirs.

Let’s Reflect,
Can you recall a time you felt God calling you toward something you didn’t pursue?

What lessons have you learned in your wilderness seasons that can help someone else today?

How can you begin becoming the person you once needed?

Let’s Pray
Father, thank You for never leaving me, even when I wandered.
Thank You for the lessons I’ve learned in the wilderness and for the way You’ve turned my missed opportunities into moments of grace.
Help me to walk closely with You now and to become the woman I needed when I was younger — wise, steady, and willing to follow Your voice without fear.
In Jesus’ name, amen.

Pictured below
This was me — during the season God called me to go.
I didn’t understand then how He would still use my wilderness to lead me home.”

10/14/2025

Burying the Hatchet—But Not the Hurt

Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.”
— Proverbs 4:23

When I was growing up, I remember my mom often saying, “You just need to bury the hatchet.”
It was her way of reminding me to forgive and move on.
Over the years, that phrase became stitched into my understanding of what forgiveness looked like.
It was paired with sayings like “You catch more flies with honey than vinegar” and “Just be sweet.”
And for a long time, I tried. I smiled when it hurt.
I poured honey over moments that needed honesty.
I “buried the hatchet” again and again — in friendships, ministry, even family relationships — until one day I realized something: every time I buried the hatchet, I also buried a seed of unforgiveness right beside it.

You see, when we cover a wound without tending to it, infection grows beneath the surface.
It’s like pulling a w**d but leaving the root behind — give it a few days, and it’ll spring right back up, stronger than before.

Recently, when someone told me again, “You just need to bury the hatchet,” something inside me shifted. I didn’t react or speak out loud, but my spirit did a double take. Because this time, I knew better.
This time, I didn’t want to bury anything — I wanted to bring it into the light where God could truly heal it.

Forgiving someone doesn’t mean forgetting what happened.
It doesn’t mean pretending like it didn’t hurt or ignoring the consequences of another person’s choices.
For too long, I confused grace with silence — believing that turning the other cheek meant never acknowledging the pain.
But real forgiveness isn’t passive.
It’s choosing peace over revenge, release over resentment, and obedience over emotion.
It’s giving the offense to God and saying, “You handle this, Lord, because I can’t.”
And yet, while forgiveness is commanded, so is guarding our heart.

When I was confronted again by someone who had deceived me deeply, something miraculous happened — I felt nothing.
No anger, no bitterness, no ugly residue. Just peace. I realized that was what true forgiveness felt like: not the absence of memory, but the absence of malice.

But here’s the thing — I also didn’t feel the need to restore what once was.
Forgiveness doesn’t always mean reconciliation. Sometimes, God builds fences for protection, not punishment.
There’s wisdom in distance.
There’s holiness in boundaries.
Some may call it bitterness, but I call it obedience.
Because when your heart finally heals, you start to recognize that peace isn’t proven by proximity — it’s proven by purity of heart.

Some people will think uou are too soft; others will think you’re too cold.

But forgiveness isn’t a public performance — it’s a private surrender.
Healing happens between you and God, in the quiet places where no one else sees.
When old wounds resurface or triggers rise up, my prayer has become simple:
“Lord, reveal it so You can heal it.”
And He always does — gently, truthfully, in His perfect timing.

Let’s Reflect
Have you ever “buried the hatchet” without truly healing the hurt?
What boundaries might God be asking you to set in order to guard your peace?
How can you practice forgiveness without forfeiting wisdom?

Let’s Pray
Heavenly Father, thank You for teaching me the difference between burying pain and releasing it.
Help me to forgive fully, not by pretending it never happened, but by surrendering it into Your hands.
Teach me to guard my heart without growing hard, and to walk in peace that only You can give.
In Jesus’ name, amen.

I challenge you,
Ask God to show you one area where you’ve buried pain instead of healing it.
Write it down, pray over it, and invite Him to uproot it — so what once wounded you can now become your testimony.

10/09/2025

Roses After the Snakes

Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.
Proverbs 4:23 (NIV)

Over the past 18 month it is as if God began exposing every hidden snake in my life’s garden—those who pretended to be for me but were sent to destroy me.

It was painful, humiliating, and heartbreaking, but in that pruning, I began to see something unexpected: the beauty that grows after the venom is gone.

God started replacing the snakes with roses—true friends, divine connections, people rooted in love and truth.

And as I’ve watched these new friendships bloom, I’ve realized something: guarding my heart doesn’t mean blocking love; it means protecting peace.

For so long, I kept people at arm’s length, afraid to be hurt again.
But the freedom that comes from loving with wisdom instead of fear—it’s beyond words.
I can feel God restoring my ability to connect, trust, and bloom again.

This season isn’t about being unbreakable; it’s about being beautifully healed.

Let’s Reflect,

Who or what has God gently removed from your “garden”?

What new friendships or opportunities might be growing in their place?

How can you protect your heart without hardening it?

I challenge you,
Reach out to someone new this week—someone God has placed in your path. Let down one small wall and trust that He’s guiding the connections meant to bloom in your garden.

Let’s Pray,
Father, thank You for showing me that even after betrayal, beauty can bloom.
Remove every snake from my life and replace it with divine connections that reflect Your love.
Teach me to guard my heart with wisdom, not fear, and
to love from a healed place. Amen.

10/08/2025

Grace with Guardrails

Behold, I send you out as sheep in the midst of wolves; therefore be wise as serpents and harmless as doves.
Matthew 10:16 (NKJV)

Guard your heart above all else, for it determines the course of your life.
Proverbs 4:23 (NLT)

Forgiveness is something God commands, but trust is something rebuilt over time—and sometimes, it’s never restored in the same way again.

There are moments when God asks us to extend grace, but also to walk wisely.
I’ve learned that I can forgive someone deeply and still choose not to place myself in close proximity to them.

It isn’t out of bitterness—it’s out of wisdom.
Forgiveness sets me free; boundaries protect that freedom.
Recently, I found myself at a gathering where someone who once deeply hurt me was present.
I didn’t avoid the room or create drama, but I also didn’t engage in long conversations.

My distance wasn’t hostility—it was healing.
I could stand in peace, knowing that I’d released the offense to God while still guarding my heart.

Some people will say, “If you’ve forgiven, act like it never happened.” Or “people need to bury the hatchet”

But forgiveness doesn’t mean pretending pain didn’t occur.
Even Jesus forgave, yet He was careful about who He trusted (John 2:24).

We’re called to be both kind and cautious—merciful yet mindful.
True healing doesn’t erase discernment.
Boundaries are not walls to keep people out; they’re gates that open and close with wisdom.

Sometimes peace looks like quiet distance.
Sometimes love looks like letting God handle what your heart can’t fix.

There is a Mental Health Connection

Forgiving someone who has broken trust doesn’t mean you owe them access to your emotions or your energy.

Boundaries aren’t punishment—they’re protection.

When trauma or betrayal occurs, the brain’s survival systems stay alert.

Forcing closeness before safety is reestablished can re-ignite anxiety, panic, and emotional exhaustion.

Healthy space allows the body and mind to reset, rebuild safety, and eventually—if God wills—restore connection from a place of strength rather than fear.

Peace and protection can exist together. In fact, that’s often where genuine healing begins.

Let’s Reflect
Where has God asked me to forgive, but also to set boundaries for my own peace?

How can I practice being “wise as a serpent and harmless as a dove” in this season?

What would peace look like if I trusted God to protect my heart instead of trying to manage everyone else’s expectations?

Let’s Pray

Lord, thank You for teaching me that forgiveness and wisdom walk hand in hand.
Help me to forgive as You forgave me, yet guide me in guarding my heart with peace and discernment.
When others misunderstand my boundaries, remind me that You see the posture of my heart.
Thank You for freedom that doesn’t require pretending, and healing that comes through truth.
Amen.

Healing from Within

11/23/2025

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11/12/2025

10/30/2025

10/16/2025

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