The Year of Surrender

In 2023, my world cracked wide open. Burnout. A mental breakdown. Call it whatever you want, but by July 2023, I had reached my breaking point. I was not ok, and I realized it was getting critical. I stepped away from work, something I never thought I’d do, and I dove headfirst into healing.

Therapy became a weekly ritual, and I started seeing a trauma therapist, too. My days were filled with simple, soul-soothing routines—gardening, walking in the woods, and finally, tackling tasks that I had put on the backburner for far too long. It was the kind of quiet, intentional care my heart and mind desperately needed.

Looking back, I’ll never regret taking that time. I didn’t know it then, but God was preparing me for what was coming.

The end of the year came and went, uneventfully, but in the middle of January 2024 we had the kind of week that would throw anyone into a tailspin. For a few days, every time I went into the garage, I smelled an odor that just didn't belong in there. It smelled a little, but not quite, like natural gas (which, for the record has a rotten egg smell). It also wasn't there every time I went into the garage. After a few days, I really felt pressed to call our local non-emergency fire number to ask someone to come check for a possible leak.

Apparently, when you say, “I think I smell gas,” there’s no such thing as “non-emergency.” Within minutes, the fire chief and two fire trucks were at my house. As they geared up and started their inspection, I stood there fighting embarrassment and the urge to roll my eyes.

As they came into the house, the fire chief told us not to turn anything on or off. "If it's on, leave it on, if it’s off leave it off." It hadn't occurred to me that that would matter. I showed them to the garage, where they waved their fancy CO2 detectors around but found nothing. No reading registered. They came back inside and decided to check the basement. Halfway down the stairs, alerts started going off. “Get out of the house. Now!” The urgency in their voices left no room for argument.

My daughter didn’t hesitate. She practically shoved her little brother out the door, barefoot and all. Moments later, we sat in my car, watching as more emergency vehicles arrived.

The fireman and the gas company rep turned off the gas to our home and said we couldn't turn it back on until a plumber came to find and fix the issue. They opened all the windows, putting blowers in some of them to push fresh air into the house, and they left us to work with a plumber.

In troubleshooting, it was discovered that a pipe venting from our furnace had become blocked by snow and ice. It was pushing CO2 back into our home and we had no idea since it has no smell. Our CO2 detector hadn't done its job because it had been knocked out of the electrical socket (who knows when), and the battery backup had died. The leak was on the opposite end of our house from the garage, where I had been detecting the odor. 60+ feet of house lay between the leak and the garage, and our basement doesn't go under our garage. This made no sense to me, but I was so grateful my kids and I were ok. I thanked God for this being discovered.

Once the pipe was fixed and we were able to enter the house later that day, I went into the garage and smelled the smell again. But this time, I was able to trace it immediately to a propane tank for the grill. I moved it outside and tightened the valve. There has been no smell since then.

The very next day, I lost my job.

Fourteen years of stability, gone in a single phone call. My initial reaction was disbelief, followed by the usual questions: How will I find another job? Can we stay afloat financially? Will my mental health handle this upheaval?

But then, something miraculous happened. As I hugged my very upset daughter while breaking the news to my kids, I heard myself say, “I’m not worried. God showed us yesterday just how closely He holds us in His hands.”

And I meant it.

Philippians 4:6-7: Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

A strange, unexplainable calm settled over me. I realized that this wasn’t just a random series of events—it was God making a move in my life. The truth is, I hadn’t been happy at my job for a long time. It was a huge contributor to the burnout I’d experienced the year before. But I was too scared to leave. I told myself I couldn’t risk it. I needed the paycheck, the health insurance, and the stability.

But God had other plans. He knew better. He knew I wouldn’t make the leap on my own, so He gave me a push. Losing my job felt like the end of the world for about five minutes. Then, it felt like freedom.

The Lord needed me to see that I am not the one providing. He is. He needed me to understand that only by fully surrendering would I be able to completely connect with Him. This year has been the most spiritually powerful time in my life, and I’ve learned "Where God guides, He provides."

Isaiah 58:11: And the LORD will guide you continually and satisfy your desire in scorched places and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail.

The relationship I have with Jesus is indescribable, but it’s become my favorite thing in the world. I’ve spent more time in His Word this year than I have at any other point in my life. I’ve prayed more this year than I have in past years. I’ve found a side of me that has more patience and understanding for my children. I’ve been given the ability to connect with my kids on better levels than I had in the past five years, post Kyle's death. 

Looking back, I can see the puzzle pieces falling into place. A seemingly random smell in the garage led to a life-saving discovery. Losing my job opened the door to a deeper relationship with God and a more fulfilling life.

God doesn’t waste a thing—not our struggles, not our pain, not even a broken furnace vent.

That smell in the garage wasn’t just a coincidence. Losing my job wasn’t just bad luck. God had been working through every single detail, showing me His goodness in ways I can’t ignore.

If you’re in a season of uncertainty, I encourage you to lean into Him. He’s not just present in the miracles; He’s there in the waiting and in the quiet moments of surrender.

This past year, I’ve learned that God’s plans are always better than mine. As we enter into this new year, let’s remember that in His hands, even the most challenging seasons can become a story of grace, provision, and love.

Kelley Ford

Born in Baltimore, but now residing in Southern PA, Kelley lives with her two kids, who bring her sunshine on dark days. They have one dog, three cats, and more plants than she can count. Her favorite things to do are singing on the praise and worship team at her church, tending to her large outdoor garden and indoor house plants, and occasionally hobby hopping from art to woodworking to writing. If she's home, there's a 75% chance that she's dancing in her kitchen to worship music.