Seeking God through the struggles
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The Schmidt Family
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The Schmidt Family
August 9, 2026
For the last several months, it has been hard for me to even step through the doors of church.
There have been Sundays when I’ve gotten up, gotten dressed, driven there, dropped the kids off in their classes… and then walked right back out to my car and sat there.
I couldn’t make myself go in.
Life has not been easy for me. It hasn’t been easy for us. It hasn’t been easy for our family.
And sometimes, if I’m being completely honest, it’s hard not to look around.
I see other families at church. Families taking their kids to soccer games and baseball practices. Families doing normal things. Families whose biggest worries seem so different from ours.
And I wonder, Why not us?
I don’t say that for pity. I say it because this has been a daily struggle for me—a struggle to trust God, to trust His plans, and to truly take life one day at a time.
Because one day at a time sounds so simple until you’re living in circumstances where tomorrow feels terrifying.
It’s so easy for me to ask God, Why?
Why can’t You just take all of this pain away?
Why does our family have to carry so much?
Why does it feel like every time we make it through one storm, another one is waiting for us?
And then today, after months of struggling just to walk through the doors, I finally made it inside.
And our pastor was speaking about suffering.
He opened Matthew 10:16–33, and something about those words hit me differently today.
Jesus was talking to His disciples about what they would face. He didn’t sugarcoat it. He didn’t tell them that following Him would mean a life without pain, fear, rejection, or suffering.
He actually warned them that suffering would come.
And somehow, that was comforting to me.
Because sometimes I think I have been interpreting my suffering as evidence that something has gone terribly wrong—that maybe God has forgotten us, maybe I’m not trusting enough, maybe I’m not praying the right prayers, maybe if my faith were stronger, our circumstances would look different.
But Jesus never promised His followers a life without suffering.
He prepared them for it.
And in the middle of all those warnings, He told them not to be afraid.
He reminded them that they are seen by God. That even the hairs on their heads are numbered. That they are not forgotten.
That stopped me.
Because maybe the question isn’t always, “Why is God allowing this?”
Maybe sometimes the question is, “Can I trust that God is still with me while I’m walking through it?”
Matthew 10 reminded me that suffering doesn’t mean God has left us. Sometimes suffering is simply part of living in a broken world. But we were never promised that we would walk through the brokenness alone.
God knows every fear I have.
He knows every night I cry.
He knows the questions I’m too afraid to say out loud.
He knows what Hudson is facing.
He knows what Hannah has already survived.
He knows what our family has lost and what we are still waiting for.
And He knows how exhausted I am.
He sees me sitting in that church parking lot, unable to make myself walk inside.
And maybe He wasn’t disappointed in me.
Maybe He was just waiting for me to come back in when I was ready.
Matthew 10 also reminded me that Jesus Himself understands suffering. He knows what it means to be rejected, misunderstood, afraid, and to walk toward something painful without knowing how it will end.
So maybe I don’t have to understand this season to trust Him through it.
Maybe faith isn’t pretending that I’m not scared.
Maybe faith is being scared and still choosing God.
Maybe faith is asking, “Why?” and still believing He is good.
Maybe faith is walking into church with a heart full of questions and allowing God to meet me exactly where I am.
And then, as if God knew exactly what I needed to hear, I was reminded of Matthew 6:34:
“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”
I’ve read that verse before. I’ve heard it before.
But today, I needed to hear it differently.
Maybe God isn’t asking me to figure out tomorrow.
Maybe He’s only asking me to trust Him with today.
Today, Hudson is here.
Today, Hannah is here.
Today, I am here.
And today, God is here too.
I don’t know what tomorrow holds. I don’t know what Hudson’s transplant journey will look like. I don’t know how our family will get through all of this. I don’t know what my life will look like on the other side of everything we’ve been through.
But maybe I don’t have to know.
Maybe faith is choosing to walk into the church even when I don’t feel like it.
Maybe faith is sitting in the car and crying when I can’t walk inside—and trying again the next Sunday.
Maybe faith is asking God “why?” and still choosing to believe He is good when I don’t have an answer.
I wish I could say I walked out of church today with every fear gone.
I didn’t.
But I walked out remembering something I think I have forgotten lately:
I am not walking through this alone.
The suffering is real.
The fear is real.
The uncertainty is real.
But so is God.
And He has not left us.
I don’t have to carry tomorrow today.
God has given me enough grace for this day.
So today, I will breathe.
Today, I will pray.
Today, I will love my babies.
Today, I will trust Him.
And tomorrow…
I’ll let God handle tomorrow.
This week we will meet with our main cardiologist to sit down and have to transplant talk with Hudson. Please pray that Hudson can feel Gods peace, that he will be positive and trust in Gods plan for him.
Comments
Teresa Goodwine 3 months ago