Let the Engine Cool

 This morning I had a lot on my mind.

• Work responsibilities.  
• School assignments.  
• Health concerns in our family.  
• Messages, emails, decisions… and the steady stream of information that seems to come at us all day long.

You know the feeling. Your brain starts to feel like twenty browser tabs are open at once.

Ironically, in the middle of all that mental overload, my car decided to add a little drama to the day.

A warning light started blinking on the dashboard telling me the coolant level was low. Nothing catastrophic, but enough that I needed to pull over and deal with it. I ended up stopping at Buc-ee’s to let the engine cool down before checking things under the hood.

While I was sitting there waiting, a friend sent me a message.

“Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”  

—Matthew 11:28

The message added a simple thought:

The best way to break free from information overload is to refocus our thoughts on Him.

And it hit me right in the moment.

I had been thinking about everything I needed to do, everything I hadn’t finished yet, and everything still coming my way. My mind was racing… just like an engine that has been running hard for too long.

And there I was, literally sitting in a parking lot waiting for my car to cool down.

It made me laugh a little, because the analogy was too perfect to ignore.

When an engine gets too hot, you don’t keep pushing it harder.  

• You stop.  
• You pause.  
• You give it time to cool down.

Our minds and hearts need that same rhythm.

When life starts piling on—responsibilities, decisions, noise, information—it’s easy to keep pushing forward, trying to handle everything ourselves. But Jesus offers a different invitation.

Come to Me.

Not when everything is finished.  

Not when we’ve figured everything out.

Just… come.

Refocusing on Christ shifts our attention away from the swirl of everything happening around us and brings us back to the One who carries what we cannot.

It’s not just spiritual advice. It’s a reset, a pause.

A moment to let the engine cool down.

After a little time, I checked the coolant, topped it off, and got back on the road.

But I carried the reminder with me.

Sometimes the most productive thing we can do is stop long enough to remember where our rest actually comes from.

And if you happen to find yourself sitting in a Buc-ee’s parking lot waiting for your engine to cool down… maybe that pause is exactly what your soul needed too.

Red Lights, Yellow Lights, and the God Who Stays

In 2015, I wrote a short post called Yes, No, Wait: He Answers EVERY Prayer.

I believed it then.

I believe it now.

But life has a way of taking your theology off the page and putting it into your bloodstream.

Back then, I compared prayer to a stoplight.

Sometimes God says Green — and we rejoice.

Sometimes He says Red — and we don’t understand.

Sometimes He says Yellow — and we wait longer than we want to.

Green feels easy to call “answered prayer.”

Clear scan.

Good report.

Open door.

But what about when the diagnosis still comes?

When the door closes?

When the outcome isn’t what we asked for?

Is that unanswered?

I don’t think so.

In the garden, Jesus prayed:

“If it is possible, let this cup pass from Me… yet not as I will, but as You will.”

 Matthew 26:39

The cup did not pass.

But the Father did not leave.

That’s the part we sometimes miss.

The answer was not escape.

The answer was presence.

The answer was strength to walk through.

Psalm 23 doesn’t promise we avoid valleys.

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me.” 

Psalms 23:4

Through.

Not around.

Not exempt.

Through.

Maybe “answered prayer” isn’t always about outcomes.

Maybe sometimes it’s about accompaniment.

Sometimes the light is green and we celebrate.

Sometimes it’s red and we grieve.

Sometimes it’s yellow and we grow.

But in every color — He stays.

And here’s something else I’ve learned since 2015:

Trust doesn’t mean we aren’t afraid.

Trust doesn’t mean we don’t wish the light would change.

Trust means we keep moving forward — praying boldly, loving deeply, and doing what we can while leaving the rest in God’s hands.

Proverbs says:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart… and He will direct your paths.” 

 Proverbs 3:5–6

Directed paths imply motion.

We don’t sit frozen at the intersection.

We move when we can.

We wait when we must.

We stop when He says stop.

But we never walk alone.

His ways are higher.

He can be trusted.

He answers every prayer.

Even the ones that hurt.

Standing for Alex Pretti

I opened social media today and saw images of the nurse colleagues of Andrew Pretti taking a moment of silence in his honor.  I wasn’t prepared for how hard that would hit. wham…immediately in tears my whole body just felt hit with grief, of oneness as a nurses then helplessness and anger due to the senselessness of what took place. 

I am grieving the loss of a fellow nurse.

Not a stranger, another helper! Someone who chose a life of care, presence, and protection of others. Someone who stood on the same side of suffering that I do. 

Seeing a nurse fall at the hands of injustice, cruelty, and inhumanity cuts differently. It feels personal. It feels like a wound to the entire body of helpers.

The grief is tangible.

It sits heavy in my chest because it represents something I refuse to accept…

I refuse to accept a world where violence is justified, where cruelty is explained away, where human life is treated as expendable. I refuse to accept systems that harm instead of protect, that silences instead of listens and sees.

As nurses, we are trained to preserve life, de-escalate, advocate and to show up in the worst moments to be brave for others and show compassion. Watching a fellow nurse be lost to injustice feels like a betrayal of everything we stand for.

This grief is tangled with fear.

Fear over what I am witnessing. Fear that systems I once trusted feel like they are breaking. Fear that the values of this country (and my profession) are being trampled in real time.

This grief feel like anger…sharp and overwhelming. 

I grew up believing that faith calls us to calm, but even Christ flipped a table when injustice demanded it.

Growing up my parents didn’t allow us to use the word hate, it  was considered dangerous…something that could harden a heart. We were taught to choose our words carefully, because words don’t just express what we feel, they shape actions and who we become. I’ve carried that lesson with me my whole life.

But right now, I have hate…

I hate cruelty and I feel moral anguish over seeing what is happening to others and a refusal to coexist quietly with this violence knowing silence makes me complicit.

My faith tells me that God is near to the brokenhearted. That He sees every life as sacred. That violence and dehumanization were never part of the design. I can only imagine the grief of a God who created humanity for love, watching His children harm one another in the name of power (but we know is cowardice)! 

That thought doesn’t make me feel righteous.

It makes me feel responsible.

So I will not be silent.

Not because I have all the answers or am fearless but because helpers don’t look away when harm is done. We don’t call injustice “unfortunate” and move on. We pause, grieve, and speak up! We take a STAND! 

I stand in grief for a fallen nurse.

I stand in grief for our country.

I stand in grief form those who still cannot see the truth.

And I stand against cruelty and inhumanity.

I’m sad and I’m angry… and while I may not flip a table literally, I will flip the status quo, advocating for justice, standing with fellow helpers, and refusing silence.

#ILYPIO Handmade Bracelets

I Love You, Pass It On. ❤️

ILYPIO began in 2014 as a simple phrase painted for me by an artist in Grand Rapids, Michigan. What started as a few kind words has grown into a passion — a way of reminding people that they matter, that they are uniquely and individually loved, and that love is meant to be shared.

These bracelets are a small extension of that idea. Each bracelet is handmade by me, one bead at a time, with intention and care. No two are exactly the same — just like the people who wear them. They’re meant to be worn, gifted, shared, and passed along as a reminder that love shows up in tangible ways.

Custom + One of a Kind

When you order an ILYPIO bracelet, you may request:

• A color family you’re drawn to (earthy, bright, neutral, blues, pinks, mixed, etc.)
• An accent tone:
  
• Silver
• Gold
• Copper
• Brass
• Black
• Mixed metals
• Or no metal accents

Because each bracelet is handmade, your piece will be uniquely yours — inspired by your choices.

✨ And because love multiplies when it’s shared:

For every bracelet you purchase, I include a second, surprise bracelet. Whether you keep it or pass it on is part of the joy.

Pricing & Shipping

• $10 per bracelet
• 2 for $18
• 3 for $25
• Flat shipping rate: $5 per order

Simple, transparent, and rooted in generosity.

Questions/Orders: ilypio@icloud.com

Payments Accepted: Venmo, CashApp, ApplePay, and Zelle 

Giving Back

ILYPIO has always been about love in action.

All proceeds from these bracelets are donated in an effort to help ease homelessness for all of God’s creation.

This is one small way I try to turn love into something tangible — something that reaches beyond words and into real lives.

Thank You

Thank you for supporting handmade, heart-led work.

Thank you for choosing kindness.

Thank you for being part of this story.

I love you. Pass it on. ❤️

— Hannah Jane