I Can Do It Afraid… Even When I Don't Have All the Evidence

Reflections on faith, trust, and the unfinished pieces of life's puzzle

This morning, as I sat with my reading and meditation, I found myself reflecting on something Ernest Holmes wrote in his book This Thing Called You.

He compares the power of our beliefs to electricity. Electricity exists everywhere, but its energy must be consciously directed. He reminds us that our beliefs shape our experiences and that when we change our beliefs, we can change our world.

These are principles I have studied, practised, and taught for years. I believe deeply in the power of our thoughts, our intentions, and the visions we hold for our lives.

And yet, this morning, I found myself wrestling with a familiar question.

How do we continue to believe when the evidence of what we desire hasn't yet appeared?

In just a few days, I'll be leaving my little home in rural Saskatchewan and moving back to Saskatoon.

For the past three and a half years, this home has been a sanctuary. After years of significant life changes, I came here to step off the treadmill, to breathe, to heal, and simply to be.

I've spent countless hours riding my bicycle along quiet country roads, reflecting on life, and deepening my spiritual practice. It was here that I completed my second children's book, I Can Do It Afraid.

And now, I feel called toward something new.

I'm excited about living closer to my children and grandchildren, creating new friendships, expanding my work as an author and speaker, and embracing all the possibilities this next chapter holds.

There's just one thing, my house hasn't sold.

I've lovingly prepared it, maintained it, and opened the door to prospective buyers. I've imagined the right person walking through that door and recognizing it as their new home.

And I've affirmed that the sale will unfold quickly, easily, and for the highest good of everyone involved.

But as my moving date approaches without a sale, I notice my confidence wavering.

Where is the evidence? Am I believing strongly enough? Am I truly trusting? Why hasn't this happened yet?

And then, in the midst of my morning reflection, something made me smile.

I didn't write a book called I Can Do It When I Have All the Evidence.

I wrote I Can Do It Afraid.

Oh, the wonderful opportunities life gives us to practise what we teach!

My little monarch butterfly didn't wait until she knew exactly how she would make the long journey from Canada to Mexico. She encountered uncertainty, challenges, and moments of fear. But she kept moving forward, one small, brave step at a time. And perhaps that's exactly what I'm being invited to do.

I'm realizing there is a difference between believing in a particular outcome and trusting in life itself.

I can continue to envision the sale of my home while releasing my insistence on knowing exactly when and how it will happen. I can acknowledge my disappointment without allowing it to overshadow my joy.

And most importantly, I can recognize that a chapter of my life can be complete even when all the practical details haven't yet been resolved.

Then, as if life wanted to offer me the sweetest reminder of what truly matters, something wonderful happened.

Yesterday, my beautiful new grandson surprised us by arriving a week early! And in a few days, I'll have the joy of holding baby Lewis in my arms.

What a beautiful reminder that while I've been looking for evidence in one direction, life has been unfolding in another.

A new grandson. A new home. More time with family. New communities of like-minded friends. And new opportunities to share the messages of courage, possibility, and love that mean so much to me.

Perhaps the evidence of our good doesn't always arrive in the order we expect.

I'm beginning to understand that I don't have to wait for every piece of the puzzle to fall into place before I can move forward or experience peace and happiness.

I can bless the home I'm leaving, celebrate the life I'm entering, and trust my own wisdom to navigate whatever remains unfinished. I can take practical steps where they're needed, surrender what I cannot control, and allow myself to be fully present for the gifts already arriving.

As A Course in Miracles reminds me, I can step back and allow divine guidance—the wisdom and loving presence within us all—to lead the way.

So today, I'm choosing to loosen my grip on how I think things should unfold.

I'm choosing gratitude for all that has been and anticipation for all that is yet to come.

And I'm reminding myself that I don't need to see the entire path to take the next brave step.

AND I can do it afraid. I can do it without all the evidence. I can choose joy right now.

A Question for Reflection

Is there an unfinished piece of your life's puzzle that you've been waiting to resolve before allowing yourself to feel peaceful, grateful, or happy—or before taking that next brave step forward?

What might become possible if you gave yourself permission to embrace the life unfolding before you, even while some of the pieces remain unfinished? 

With love and courage,

Lynne Harley