Just Like I Planned, But Different

a pink sparkling graphic that says still standing, still choosing joy, still me

I planned on ending last year with a ring on my finger. That part was intentional. It wasn’t impulsive or reactionary. It was a quiet hope I carried with me, rooted in the idea that some things unfold the way you picture them. In my mind, the ring came with a very specific story. A shared plan. A clear future. A sense of arrival that felt mutual and certain.

What I didn’t plan was that the route changed. I didn’t plan on the slow realization that someone else could suddenly stop a chapter. For a long time, I felt caught between tides, while everything around me kept moving.

When I was little, those Kay Jewelers Christmas commercials felt realistic to me. There was one scene I remember so clearly, a girl right in the middle of it all, wrapping paper flying, laughter filling the room, the tree glowing behind her. A guy drops down to propose, and she absolutely loses her mind. She’s squealing, dropping things, completely overwhelmed in the best way. It wasn’t quiet or polished. It was messy, joyful, and full of life. And I remember thinking I didn’t just want the ring. I wanted that whole Christmas scene. The chaos. The celebration. The feeling of being so loved that you couldn’t even hold it together.

A young couple embracing and kissing by the Christmas tree

I think back to walking past the Kay Jewelers counter at the mall, staring through the glass, believing those commercials promised something magical. Every kiss begins with Kay. They didn't explain the fine print about timing, disappointment, or self-trust. And apparently, the ring doesn't come with a sugar daddy, a soulmate, or a man actively looking for me. It just boiled down to me buying the durn ring and choosing myself.

I was on a video call one day, not thinking about the ring at all, when I caught a glimpse of myself on the screen and thought, Wait… when did that get so sparkly? I hadn’t even realized how bold it looked until I saw it through the camera lens. Big. Bright. Unapologetic. It stopped me mid-thought. Not because it needed attention, but because it reflected something I hadn’t fully named yet.

The wave band sat right beneath the diamond, curved and full of motion. And suddenly, everything clicked.

A wave ring with rinestones

The wave band represents my faith, the steady belief that carries me through every season. It reflects the rising and falling tides, the natural rhythm of life that keeps moving, whether I’m ready or not. It speaks to my love for the water, for the way it can be powerful and gentle at the same time, always changing yet always returning. It holds my passion for living fully, feeling deeply, and embracing every season as it comes, knowing that movement doesn’t cancel stability. It completes the ring not by quieting the water, but by honoring it.

a young woman showing off her diamond ring with her white, polished nails

And then there’s the diamond.

The diamond holds everything in place. The tides continue to rise and fall, but something solid remains. It doesn’t stop the movement. It steadies it. It reminds me that even when life shifts, there is something constant holding it all together.

That symbolism brought me straight to the water bible stories.

Peter didn’t start sinking when he stepped out of the boat. He was actually walking on the water. The waves were still there. The wind was still loud. But as long as his eyes were fixed on Jesus, he was steady. Scripture tells us that when Peter noticed the wind and the waves, fear crept in. He looked away, and that’s when he began to sink. Not because he stepped out, but because his focus shifted. And when that happened, Jesus reached for him immediately. No lecture. No punishment. Just presence.

There’s another storm story I keep returning to. Jesus is asleep in the boat while the disciples panic. Waves crashing. Wind howling. Experienced fishermen convinced they’re about to drown. And Jesus is resting. When they wake Him, frantic and afraid, He calms the storm and then asks, “Why are you afraid? Do you still have no faith?” — Mark 4:40–41 (Easy-to-Read Version). Underneath that question is another one: Do you know who I am? Because if they truly remembered who was in the boat with them, the storm wouldn’t have felt so final.

And then there’s the Red Sea.

God didn’t remove the water. He didn’t make it disappear. He split it.

The Bible says, “Moses held his hand over the sea. All that night, the Lord caused the sea to move back with a strong east wind. The sea became dry land, and the water was divided.”— Exodus 14:21 (Easy-to-Read Version)

Because faith doesn’t always look like obstacles vanishing. Sometimes it looks like God making a way straight through what feels impossible. The water is still there. The depth is still real. But there is a path where there wasn’t one before.

The Bible also says, “When you pass through the sea, I will be with you. When you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.”— Isaiah 43:2 (Easy-to-Read Version)

God never promised calm waters. He promised HIS presence.

And it reminds us, “My brothers and sisters, be happy when you have all kinds of troubles. You know that these troubles test your faith. And this will give you patience.”— James 1:2–3 (Easy-to-Read Version)

a young woman wearing a baggy t-shirt and a messy bun at the beach at dusk

I wouldn’t have chosen the storm. But I can choose what holds me steady in it.

So yes, I ended the year with a ring, just like I planned. It just came by a different route. One that required faith instead of certainty. Presence instead of answers. Trust instead of timelines. I planned for the ring. I just didn’t realize I would be the one placing it there.

And that’s okay.

Because this ring doesn’t represent what I lost. It represents what carried me through. The tides that kept moving. The waters that parted. The faith that held. And the quiet truth that even when the path wasn’t clear, God still made a way.

God, thank You for meeting me in the storm. For not removing every storm, but for making a way through it. My faith never wavered. You were always near.

Help me with the grief that still creeps in the quiet moments when what I hoped for resurfaces. Hold that sadness for me, and don’t let it steal my joy.

Help me trust You in the rising and falling tides. Help me walk forward without fear, even when the path looks different from what I planned. And help me remember that no matter the route, I am never alone.

Amen.