Devotional Part 8: Crocheted Capes and the Grace That Held Me Together
“He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.” —Psalm 91:4 (NIV)
There are loud messages we receive in childhood.
Being singled out.
Being excluded.
Managing medical needs at school when no one else has to.
Hearing that you are “different.”
Those messages are clear.
But there are quieter ones too.
A can of Lysol sprayed behind you.
A soft “don’t sit there.”
A look that lingers just long enough to make you aware of yourself.
Pressure from well-meaning parents who want you to keep up and be strong, even when you are already stretched thin.
Some messages shout.
Others whisper.
Both shape identity.
All the while, something deeper was forming in me. My nervous system was adapting. The early layers of PTSD were taking shape—not as something separate from me, but as part of me. I was living on autopilot. The coping mechanisms didn’t feel like coping mechanisms; they felt like personality. I didn’t know there was a difference between my true identity and the version of myself shaped in the fog of trauma. I had been living that way for so long that it simply felt normal.
As a child, I didn’t question these messages. I adjusted. I internalized them. I decided what must be true about me in order to make sense of discomfort.
And yet, even then, God was not absent.
Psalm 91 paints a picture of shelter—of being covered, protected, gathered close. Before I understood His protection spiritually, He gave me glimpses of it relationally. A steady presence. A person who delighted in me without measuring me.
God’s covering is not performance-based. His faithfulness is not fragile. He does not hesitate. He gathers.
His refuge is not earned. It is received.
A Prayer
Heavenly Father,
Thank You for being a shelter long before I understood what shelter meant. Thank You for covering me when I felt different and unsure of where I belonged. Like feathers drawn close, You surround me with a quiet protection—soft, steady, and strong enough to hold what I cannot carry on my own.
I thank You for the way You provided refuge through my grandmother. You gave me exactly what I needed through her steady love and the freedom to simply be. In her presence, I felt safe. Looking back, I can see that she was not an accident. She was part of Your plan—an extra covering, a visible reminder that You are near.
Lord, help me release the messages I quietly accepted about myself that were never from You. Where shame took root, plant truth. Where trauma shaped my identity and PTSD took hold, undo what was formed in fear. Heal what was embedded so deeply it became part of my personality. Remind me that in Christ the old has passed away and the new has come. Restore me to that newness.
Help me believe that I am chosen and cherished—not because I have proven myself, but because You have claimed me.
Cover me with Your faithfulness. Teach me to live under Your wings.
In Jesus’ name, I pray,
Amen.
A Song for Reflection
There are messages that shape us, and then there is truth that frees us. This song speaks directly to the tension between the lies we absorbed and the identity God declares over us.
The Truth
Written by: Jeff Pardo, Matthew West, and Megan Woods
Performed by: Megan Woods
“The truth is, I am truly loved by a God who's good when I'm not good enough.
I don't belong to the lies, I belong to you, and that's the truth.”
Those lyrics gently confront the very thing this devotional addresses. Shame says we are defined by what happened to us. Trauma whispers that what formed in fear is who we are. But the truth speaks louder. We do not belong to the lies that shaped us. We belong to a good God whose love does not fluctuate with our performance or our past.
Let this song remind you that identity is not determined by loud messages or quiet ones. It is secured in Christ.