The Silent Strength of Survival: For Yvonne, and the Fighters Like Her

Not long ago, I received a message that stopped me in my tracks. It didn’t come from a recruiter. It wasn’t a job lead or an invitation to collaborate. It was from someone named Yvonne Kerner, M.M.I.S. — and what she wrote cracked something wide open in me.

“I love your writing. I wish I was in a position to hire you. I’m doing an entry-level job with a master’s degree just to put food on the table. My husband lost his job last month… but I know God will provide. He always does.”

I sat there for a long time, reading and rereading those words. Because that right there? That’s the part of the story we don’t see enough of.

We scroll past the curated updates and polished profiles, the smiling “Open to Work” banners, the cleverly worded “excited to announce” posts — and we forget that behind every one of them is a real person living through something raw.

Yvonne is that person.

And so are countless others.

This message is for them.

For the Yvonnes of the world — the silent warriors fighting quiet battles while holding everyone else together.

For those doing everything “right” and still coming up short.

For the ones who prayed before they logged on and cried after they logged off.

For those whose degrees sit in frames while their courage lives in the checkout line of a discount store.

You see, Yvonne didn’t just share her situation — she shared her strength.

Her faith wasn’t fluff. It was fuel.

And her message? It was a mirror.

Because so many of us are living in that space between what we dreamed of and what we’re settling for — not because we’ve given up, but because we won’t stop showing up.

And that’s a different kind of strength.

This is the version of the story that doesn’t trend.

• The version where your fridge is emptier than your inbox.

• The version where you say “I’m fine” because you don’t have the emotional budget to explain otherwise.

• The version where every win feels like a miracle and every loss feels like it might break you for good — but still, you show up.

This version deserves a spotlight.

Because it’s not weakness.

It’s wisdom.

It’s what it means to be resourceful, responsible, and relentlessly faithful.

So let’s reframe the narrative.

If you’re working an entry-level job with a master’s degree — you’re not falling behind.

You’re holding the line.

If you’re supporting a family while your partner searches for work — you’re not stuck.

You’re steady.

If you’re sacrificing pride to protect your people — you’re not settling.

You’re standing in the gap.

We need to start celebrating that.

The spiritual athletes. The emotional heavy lifters. The quietly holy resilience of people like Yvonne, who don’t get medals or shoutouts, but keep carrying more than their share.

Because here’s the truth:

Some of the strongest people in the world are the ones who look like they’re barely holding it together.

But they’re still holding it.

So today, I’m not writing a success story.

I’m writing a survival story.

And I’m writing it for the Yvonnes.

The ones who pray with one eye on the bills and the other on the job board.

The ones whose souls hurt from the struggle — but who still find ways to lift others.

The ones who don’t have the luxury of quitting, even on the days when everything inside of them begs to.

You are not invisible.

You are not forgotten.

And you are absolutely not alone.

If you’re reading this and you’re in the same place — hear me:

• Your story isn’t over.

• Your faith is not wasted.

• Your strength is not unnoticed.

What you’re building in silence will one day be someone else’s blueprint for hope.

And if today all you can do is offer a kind word, a small prayer, or a gentle reminder?

That’s more than enough.

Because sometimes the most divine thing you can do is stay — when everything says to walk away.

So here’s my promise:

As long as I have words, I’ll keep writing about the people who don’t get articles written about them.

The ones who keep choosing faith over fear.

Duty over ego.

Sacrifice over spotlight.

To Yvonne — and to every quiet legend out there:

You’re not just surviving.

You’re teaching the rest of us what real strength looks like.

And one day soon, I believe with every part of me, you won’t just survive this season.

You’ll rise from it.

Because the world needs more people like you.

And God isn’t done with your story.

Not even close.