When was a time you felt closest to God? Was it during a struggle, when you cried out for help?

I can vividly remember the countless times I hit my knees crying out to God in 2020. I remember the bold prayers I prayed in my stairwell, and I remember the peace that flowed—peace that didn’t make sense.

I was closer to God in 2020 than I ever had been in my life. I was the healthiest I had ever been. I was the most spiritually sound, reading my Bible, writing, journaling, and seeing the good in everything.

It’s funny—sometimes when things look so good to you, they might not to everyone else. I remember people constantly making comments about my appearance, about how much weight I’d lost, and about my exercise habits. At first, I brushed it off. I was finally maintaining peace, overcoming the anxiety that 2020 brought, and working toward a healthier me. But the longer and more frequent the comments became, the more I began to wonder if something was wrong with me. Why would so many people express concern about my appearance?

You see, my daughter and I have multiple food allergies. During 2020, among many other challenges, there was a shortage of our specific allergy-free foods. There was even a shortage of ingredients, and products that were safe for us to eat in 2019 were no longer made with the same ingredients in 2020. While this brought on stress, it also led to healthier alternatives. That time of slowdown gave me the chance to try new recipes, work with fresh ingredients, and ultimately, it led to weight loss.

Despite knowing all this, I couldn’t shake the comments—they started to get to me. My family has a history of cancer. My dad passed away when I was 16 from lung and liver cancer. My sister was diagnosed with ovarian cancer at 22. My mom just passed away from breast cancer. I let the hurtful comments make me believe that something might be wrong with me too.

I scheduled an appointment with my doctor, who reviewed my chart, listened intently to my story, and after physical checks and blood work, assured me he had no concerns. He said I should be proud of my health, that I was within perfect limits for my age and size. While those comments brought peace to my anxious heart, he did something else I will never forget.

As I walked out of the exam room feeling better, he paused outside his next patient’s room. Then he came back to the front and called me back. He said, “I really feel like I’m supposed to say this to you. Just because there’s been cancer in your family doesn’t mean that you will develop cancer. You are perfectly healthy. Just because there is a history of something doesn’t define your future.”

Those words were everything I needed to hear. They calmed my mind and eased my heart. I will never forget how impactful words can be. Our words can cause hurt and anxiety, but they can also bring peace and reassurance. In 2020, and every day thereafter, I resolved to run the race God has set for me—specifically for me. How I run that race is different from others, and that’s okay.

Though those people never knew how their words hurt me—never apologized or acknowledged how they made me feel—giving it to God and choosing to continue running my race healed the hurt I carried inside.

I pray today, as your week begins to wind down, that you remember the impact you have on your office, your church, your school, your kids’ friends, and your family. Remember that your words have the power to spark. Let them spark something good in someone else. If God lays someone on your heart or gives you something to do, do it. Those very words could be what helps someone else heal from past hurt.