What If the Life You've Been Waiting For Is Already Here?

On Presence, Awe, and What Becomes Possible When You Stop Putting Your Life on Hold

This is one of my favorite moments captured during an epic European adventure with my husband and best friends. We are in Kefalonia, an island in Greece. The water is truly that color - ridiculous, I know. I will forever remember this as one of the most awe-inspiring moments of my life. It’s my mission to live and collect more moments like this. 🤍

She has a version of her life she's been saving for later.

Later — when the symptoms settle. When the energy comes back. When she finally figures out what's wrong and fixes it. When she feels well enough to really show up.

In the meantime she is managing. Getting through. Doing what needs to be done while keeping one eye on her body and one hand on the door — ready to fully arrive as soon as her health gives her permission.

But later keeps moving. And the life she's been saving herself for keeps passing by in the background.

If this is where you are — this post is for you.

THE COST OF WAITING

Putting life on hold while waiting to feel better is one of the most understandable responses to a body that doesn't feel the way you hoped it would — and one of the most costly.

Not just emotionally. Physiologically.

Joy, connection, beauty, wonder — these are not luxuries. They are nervous system regulators. When we withdraw from life while waiting to feel well enough to live it, we remove some of the very inputs our body needs to begin moving toward restoration.

She thinks she is protecting herself by waiting. But in waiting, she inadvertently removes some of what her body most needs.

The ordinary moments she's been postponing — the fully present dinner with her family, the walk she keeps meaning to take, the afternoon with a friend she keeps rescheduling — these are not rewards for feeling well. They are part of what helps her get there.

THE SCIENCE OF AWE

I want to talk about something that doesn't get nearly enough attention in the wellness space — and something I believe God wove into creation with far more intention than we realize.

Awe.

Not the dramatic, once-in-a-lifetime kind. The everyday kind. The moment where something — a view, a piece of music, a child's laugh, a shaft of light through a window — stops you mid-thought and reminds you that you are alive and the world is larger than your symptoms.

Research has shown that genuine experiences of awe lower cortisol levels, reduce inflammation, improve immune function, and slow the heart rate. When experiencing awe alongside another person, heartbeats have actually been shown to sync with one another.

God did not design beauty and wonder as decorative elements of creation. He designed them as medicine.

And here is what I have come to believe deeply — the most profound awe is not always found in dramatic landscapes or extraordinary experiences. Sometimes it is found in the lifting of a fog that has been sitting over your life for years. And suddenly seeing clearly what was always there.

WHEN THE FOG LIFTED

I want to tell you about what happened when I finally began releasing the health striving — because it wasn't what I expected.

I expected to feel better physically. And over time, I did.

What I didn't expect was everything else that came back.

As the fog I had been living under for several years began to lift, what emerged was not just steadier energy or fewer flare-ups. What emerged was my life.

My walk with Jesus deepened in a way I hadn't experienced in years. When your nervous system is chronically activated — when your mind is consumed by symptoms and research and the relentless attempt to fix your body — faith becomes something you do rather than something you inhabit. I was reading Scripture. I was praying. I was showing up. But I wasn't fully receiving any of it because there wasn't enough margin left in me to let it land.

When the striving loosened its grip, something opened. I began to encounter Jesus not through a layer of exhaustion and preoccupation but with a clarity and openness I had genuinely missed. That was awe. Profound, life-giving, unexpected awe.

And it didn't stop there.

Motherhood felt different. I was present in a way I hadn't been — not going through the motions while mentally somewhere else, but actually there. Noticing. Receiving. Enjoying ordinary moments that had been passing me by unnoticed for years.

My marriage felt lighter. There was more of me available — not just physically but emotionally and spiritually. The fog had been affecting everything, and its lifting affected everything too.

This is what becomes possible when the body begins to feel safe enough to settle. Not just symptom relief. Life. Your actual life, returned to you.

JUST THIS WEEK

I want to share something with you that happened just recently — because this is a living, ongoing practice for me, not a past season I've moved beyond.

I went swimming in the Puget Sound with a friend. I had never done it before. I wore a wetsuit — full transparency — but my feet, hands and head were absolutely committed to the experience. 😄

The cold water. The salt. The seaweed beneath my toes. The mountains in the distance. The sound of the water moving around us.

It was one of those moments where everything else just — stopped. The mental lists, the awareness of time, the low hum of daily responsibility. All of it fell away for a little while and I was just there, in that water, in that beauty, with my friend.

That is awe. Not a grand pilgrimage or a perfectly curated experience. Just a Saturday morning in the Puget Sound with cold feet and a full heart.

And my nervous system felt it. I drove home steadier, lighter, more grounded than I had been all week. And just beaming with JOY.

These moments are available to you. More often than you think. But only if you're present enough to receive them.

WHAT GOD SAYS ABOUT THIS

God designed us for wonder. He filled creation with beauty not as backdrop but as ongoing invitation — a constant call to lift our eyes from our own preoccupations and encounter Him in what He has made.

"The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands." Psalm 19:1 ESV

"Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable — if anything is excellent or praiseworthy — think about such things." Philippians 4:8 ESV

This is not simply a mindset prescription. It is a nervous system one. Directing our attention toward what is lovely and admirable — rather than toward what might go wrong next — shifts our internal environment in ways that matter physiologically.

And the deeper walk with Jesus that becomes available when we are present enough to receive it? That is not a side effect of healing.

That is the evidence of it.

A GENTLE PATH FORWARD

You don't need a trip to the Puget Sound to begin cultivating more awe and presence in your life. Though if the opportunity arises — I highly recommend it. Wetsuit optional. 😄

Here are five simple, accessible invitations:

Step outside with intention. Not to exercise, not to accomplish anything. Just to notice. The light, the air, the way the sky looks at this particular moment on this particular day. Give it five minutes and mean it.

Put your phone down during ordinary moments. The moments that feel too small to document are often the ones that matter most. Your child's face at breakfast. The way the late afternoon light comes through your kitchen window. The sound of your home when everyone is settled. These are available to you right now — but only if you're present enough to receive them.

Return to Scripture with fresh eyes. If your faith has felt distant or mechanical — approach it differently. Read one verse slowly. Sit with it. Let it land rather than moving through it as a task to complete. Let Jesus meet you there.

Notice one moment of beauty each day. Not a grand experience — just one small, genuine moment of noticing something lovely. Let it register. Let yourself actually feel it. This is not trivial. This is medicine for your nervous system.

Share wonder with someone you love. Awe experienced together is awe multiplied. Call out the beautiful thing to your child, your husband, your friend. Let them see you noticing. Let the moment belong to both of you.

THE REFRAME

The life you've been waiting to live is not on the other side of healed.

It is here. Available. Waiting for you to show up to it.

Not perfectly. Not symptom-free. Not with everything figured out.

Just present. Just open. Just willing to lift your eyes from your own body long enough to notice what God has placed all around you.

The fog can lift. And when it does — what becomes available is more beautiful than you remember.

You don't have to wait until later. Later is now.

Heavenly Father,

I’m praying for the woman reading this right now. Though I do not personally know her and what is on her heart, I know that you do and that you care deeply. Will you please give her eyes to see all the beauty and awe that surrounds her, Lord, reminding her that her life is meant to be enjoyed now - today - not just once she’s healed. Remind her that healing can be found in moments of simply being present.

I pray this all in the name of Jesus.

Amen

With grace and 🤍,

Brynn

A note before you go: I am a certified Health and Wellness Coach, not a licensed medical professional. Everything I share here reflects my personal experience and is offered for educational and informational purposes only — not as a substitute for professional medical, mental health, or dietary advice.

If you are navigating a serious or chronic health condition, please continue working closely with your licensed healthcare providers. Never discontinue or modify prescribed treatments or medications without their guidance.

This blog exists to support women who are experiencing nervous system overwhelm and frustrating health symptoms and who are looking for a more peaceful, rhythm-based approach to wellness. It is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any medical condition.