Candy Gerace

God Had Me in His Hands I was a young bride before I knew much about myself. Somewhere deep inside, I believed that getting married would help me escape the dysfunction of my childhood. In many ways, it did. What I didn't know then was that healing doesn't come from running away—it comes from learning to forgive. Years later, I would look back on my parents with different eyes. They were both broken people, trying the best they knew how. Forgiveness didn't change the past, but it freed me from carrying it. It also helped me become a better parent, though I certainly had my own failures along the way. Life never followed the straight path I imagined. I started college at 32 years old, earned my MBA at 57, and built a career during a time when women often had to work twice as hard to prove they belonged. I became the first female HR manager in my company, a milestone that brought pride but also challenges. Every accomplishment felt earned. Then came one of the hardest professional moments of my life. The company I loved sold the division where I worked. My head understood the business decision, but my heart did not. I grieved the loss of something that had become part of my identity. Eventually I found my footing again in the oil and gas industry, only to leave for what seemed like a promising opportunity with a Taiwanese company. The project never got off the ground. At the time, leaving felt like a huge mistake. Once again, I had to start over. Eventually, I landed in a role where I could truly impact decisions, lead others, and help shape an organization. Looking back, every detour taught me something I needed to learn. But career challenges were not the hardest part. My daughter suffered a stroke. In those terrifying days, we didn't know what the future held. We didn't know what recovery would look like or if life would ever feel normal again. There were moments when faith felt less like confidence and more like survival. Sometimes I wasn't thriving—I was simply existing. Still, God carried me through. There were struggles in my marriage. There were painful questions about forgiveness and how many times one heart can endure being disappointed. There were dark seasons when I questioned myself, my choices, and my future. Yet even in my darkest hours, I always knew I was not alone. Years ago, I heard a song about Jesus being behind the couch with a little girl, protecting her from the chaos around her. The first time I heard it, I cried because I realized that little girl was me. Through every painful chapter, every mistake, every heartbreak, every setback, God was there. Not because I always made the right decisions. Not because I always trusted perfectly. Not because I deserved it. But because He loved me anyway. When I look at my life now, I don't see a story of success. I see a story of grace. A young bride who became a student at 32. A woman who earned an MBA at 57. A mother who learned resilience. A leader who found her voice. A daughter who learned forgiveness. And through every chapter—good and bad, joyful and heartbreaking—I can see what I could not always see in the moment: God had me in His hands all along. Dear World, My life wasn't shaped by perfect decisions—it was carried by God's grace through imperfect ones. Backstory: I spent much of my life fighting to prove my worth, overcoming professional setbacks, family dysfunction, personal heartbreak, and a daughter's stroke. Through every victory and every dark season, faith reminded me that I was never carrying the weight of life alone. God had me in His hands all along.