There is a sacred moment that happens at the end of Phase 1—one that cannot be rushed, forced, or manufactured. It is the moment when a woman begins to tell the truth of her story out loud. Here at Phasing Out of Trauma, we never expect to hear the polished version. We always encourage woman to go beyond the minimized version. And because we've all held our own experiences, it's always safe to move past version shaped by what others could handle, and into what really happened. 

At the end of our Phase 1 Study journey, we hold space for each other to hear their stories. And when it happens, we enter the sacred space of empowerment. Because the trauma these women have held silenced their voices. It fragmented their experiences. It convinced them that what happened to them either too much to hold or not enough to matter. Because trauma tangles our memories, buries our voice, and teaches us to survive by staying quiet. But healing begins here in Phase 1 when God enters the story intentionally, and together with Him the pieces of our whole start to come back together—when what was once hidden is gently, courageously brought into the light.

At the end of Phase 1 in Phasing Out of Trauma, we invite women to begin telling their story in a way that feels safe, honoring, and paced. Not everything. Not all at once. Just what is ready. And what I have witnessed in these moments just last week was been nothing short of holy.

One incredible woman stood before us and shared her story with a clarity, structure, and depth that felt like listening to a TED Talk. There was power in her voice—not because her story was easy to hear, but because she had begun to see it differently. She made connections between moments in her life that once felt isolated and confusing. She could trace the thread—how early wounds had woven themselves through later experiences—and for the first time, she wasn’t just reliving it… she was understanding it. And in that understanding, there was empowerment. You could feel it.

Another woman showed us a different kind of courage.

She named, in real time, how hard it was to even be there. How difficult it felt to admit where she was. How even in a room filled with safety, compassion, and vulnerability, there was still a voice inside her that feared judgment. That wanted to stay hidden. And yet—by saying that out loud—she broke through it.

Her honesty became the doorway.

What followed was raw. Sacred. Unfiltered. She shared parts of her story that had been held tightly for so long, and as she offered these pieces of her story to her fellowship group, I could feel the room hold her—not with shock, not with pity, but with understanding. With reverence. That is what happens when a story is received with care. It transforms not only the one who tells it, but the space around her.

And then there was another woman, who spoke with a coherence we had never heard from her before. Not because her story had suddenly become simple, but because something within her had softened. She gave herself space. She gave herself grace. She extended mercy inward in a way she hadn’t been able to before. And as she spoke, you could hear it—the difference. The gentleness. The ownership. The beginning of integration.

These are the moments that remind me: healing is not about fixing a person.

Healing is about restoring our voice.

Because when a woman tells her story in a safe, compassionate environment, something profound happens in her brain and body. What was once fragmented begins to organize. What was once overwhelming becomes nameable. What was once carried alone is now witnessed. And in that witnessing, the story begins to lose its power to isolate—and instead becomes a pathway to connection, meaning, and healing.

We are not meant to carry our stories in silence.

We are meant to tell them. Not with an intention to relive the pain—but to reclaim the narrative stolen by others who abused power and authority in our lives. Before we closed our time together, I offered the women a small glimpse of what comes next. A preview of how their stories might begin to read at the end of Phase 2—after they’ve had time to heal their impressions of God, to come to know Him for who He truly is, and to begin seeing their lives through a different lens. A lens not shaped by trauma alone, but by truth. By presence. By a God who sees.

Because the story does not end in Phase 1. It begins there. And as it unfolds, what was once a story of survival slowly becomes a story of redemption.

I am deeply overwhelmed—in the best way—to be invited into these spaces. To sit in the presence of women who are choosing, day by day, to face what they’ve carried and to begin again. It is an honor I don’t take lightly.

And if you are reading this while holding your own story—still untold, still heavy, still uncertain—I want you to know this:

You do not have to carry it alone.

When you are ready, there is a place for your story too. And it would be an honor to walk with you.

Lectio Divina is an ancient Christian prayer practice rooted in the belief that God is still speaking through Scripture — personally, presently, and relationally. Rather than approaching the Bible for information or instruction, Lectio Divina invites us to listen. We read slowly. We notice what stirs. We allow a word or phrase to meet us where we are, trusting that God knows what we need to hear today. At Phasing Out of Trauma, we are incorporating Lectio Divina as a gentle, trauma-informed way of praying with Scripture — especially for women who may feel overwhelmed, disconnected, or unsure how to approach prayer in the midst of real life.

Scripture is rich, layered, and alive. As we start this journey of healing, it can be overwhelming to look at chunks of Biblical text, so in Phase 1 we introduce Lectio Divina using single scripture verses, and encourage women to read it as it's translated across multiple translations. we understand that no single translation can hold the full range of meaning, tone, and invitation contained within a verse if it could we wouldn't have the need to have so many different versions of the Bible.

When women are navigating trauma recovery, grief, uncertainty, or difficult news, they are often living in very specific emotional and spiritual moments. One translation may resonate deeply, while another may feel distant or inaccessible. By praying with multiple translations, we allow Scripture to:

• speak in different emotional registers

• emphasize different aspects of the same truth

• meet each woman in the here and now of her lived experience

This practice does not dilute Scripture — it reveals its fullness. It honors the reality that God’s Word can speak comfort, courage, steadiness, hope, or care depending on what is needed in the moment.

Psalm 112:7 as a Living Example

As we walk through Phase 1, we are given multiple verses to contemplate using Lectio Divina, after accepting God's willingness to pull us out of the mire and slim and mud of the pits our trauma has cast us into, we next encounter Psalm 112:7, a verse that speaks honestly about life as it is — not as we wish it were.

Across translations, Psalm 112:7 acknowledges that bad news comes. It does not deny fear or difficulty. Instead, it turns our attention to the posture of the heart in the midst of it.

We are deeply grateful—and truly humbled—to share that our Phase Study Fellowship has officially begun.

This week, a courageous group of women stepped into Phase 1 of the Phasing Out of Trauma journey. This phase marks a sacred beginning: not the start of answers, but the start of honest presence. It is the moment when a woman is allowed to say, often quietly and tenderly:

“I experienced trauma. I desire God to be part of my healing.”

For many, this is the first time those two truths have been held together.

What Phase 1 Is (and What It Is Not)

Phase 1 is not about fixing, rushing, or proving spiritual strength.
It is not about having the right words, the right theology, or a polished testimony.

Phase 1 is about acknowledging reality—that something painful happened—and opening the door for God to be present in the aftermath. It is a phase of slowing down, listening to the body and the soul, and allowing truth to surface at a pace that feels safe and supported.

Here, healing begins not with answers, but with permission:

• Permission to name trauma without minimizing it

• Permission to admit confusion, anger, grief, or doubt

• Permission to approach God honestly—even if trust feels fragile

Walking Together With Does God See Me?

Throughout Phase 1, the women are reading and reflecting on Does God See Me? by Dieula M. Previlon—a powerful, compassionate work that explores trauma, silence, faith, and the deep human longing to be seen by God.

As they move through the book together, they will be invited to:

• Reflect on their lived experiences in a trauma-informed way

• Notice how trauma has shaped their image of God and themselves

• Gently challenge beliefs formed in pain or isolation

• Practice grounding, prayer, and reflection that honor both faith and nervous system care

This fellowship is peer-led, Christ-centered, and grace-guided. Sharing is always invitational, never forced. Silence is respected. Each woman is encouraged to listen to her own limits and needs, trusting that God does not rush what He intends to heal.

The Sacred Work of Community

There is something profoundly healing about not being alone with your story anymore. In this fellowship, women are not asked to carry one another’s pain—but to bear witness to it with compassion, reverence, and humility.

Healing unfolds not through comparison, but through connection.
Not through pressure, but through presence.

This is sacred ground.

A Gentle Ask: Please Pray With Us

As we launch this Phase Study Fellowship, we invite our wider community to cover these women in prayer.

Please pray:

• That each woman would feel safe, seen, and deeply held

• That God would meet them with tenderness rather than urgency

• That shame would loosen its grip and truth would take root

• That courage would grow slowly and steadily, one step at a time

• That the Holy Spirit would guide every conversation, silence, and prayer

We also ask prayers for the leaders holding space—that they would be grounded, discerning, and attentive to God’s movement among the group.

With Gratitude and Hope

We are honored by the trust it takes to begin this journey. Phase 1 is holy ground—the place where many women first whisper, “Something happened to me… and I want God here with me now.”

Thank you for standing with us in prayer as this fellowship unfolds.
Healing does not happen alone.
And it does not happen unseen.

God sees. God is near. And this is only the beginning.