Over the weekend, my country issued a Typhoon Signal No. 10. Stuck indoors, I watched the trees outside—their trunks shaken violently, branches whipping side to side as the wind howled and blew mercilessly against them. The chaos outside unexpectedly transported me back to a bitter Canadian winter years ago.

On one particularly frigid day, I’d been cooped up watching TV when my daughter called: “Can you park the car? The garage is too tight—I might scratch it.” After her friends picked her up for dinner, I moved the car from the driveway into the garage. As I closed the car door and stepped out, my foot suddenly slipped—the ground was a sheet of ice. I lost my balance, and my head hit the hard floor with a thud. Only then did I realize how treacherously icy the floor was. Recovering from my shock, I quickly picked myself up, closed the garage door, and hurried inside. As I sat on the sofa, still shaken, a grim image crept into my mind—my grandmother’s fatal fall on wet marble. The memory sent a chill through me. Frantic, I grabbed a bottle of ointment, fingers probing my scalp for swelling. I felt a bump started forming at the back of my head, with one hand gently rubbing ointment on it, my other hand was busily checking online for what warning signs I should watch for. I ran through the CDC’s symptoms list: Loss of consciousness? No. Disorientation? No. Nausea? Not yet. Pupils equal? For now. But doubt crept in—had I blacked out for just a second when I fell? Probably not…probably. My fingers returned to the swelling lump. But when is a head bump ER-worthy? Then I saw it—Monitor for 72 hours—Even minor head injuries can develop delayed complications. Three days. Suddenly the empty house felt too quiet. I found an ice pack and pressed it against the bump, wondering if fear was making me imagine the throbbing, or if the throbbing was justifying the fear. Alone in the house, I finally paused—and remembered God. In the panic of checking for concussion signs and Googling symptoms, I’d been so focused on self-reliance that I hadn’t stopped to pray.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me (Pslam 23:4a, ESV)

Like branches bending under a typhoon’s brutal winds—strained but unbroken—I, too, had been badly shaken by the fall. Yet I felt no dizziness, no lingering discomfort. Rather than dwell on worst-case scenarios, I fixed my thoughts on God and His divine protection, trusting in His healing grace. I started playing worship music. It started as a whisper, a feeble “thank You.” But with each chorus, my voice grew steadier. Soon I was praising Him loudly, a sense of peace filled my heart, the words a lifeline: “You’ve always been faithful—why would You fail me now? As I sang through shaky breaths, the truth of Romans 5:5 pulsed within me: God transforms our troubles into endurance.

The next day, though I felt no pain, I remained cautious. But as the days passed, both the bump on my head and my worries faded. I may never understand why the Lord allowed that fall—except perhaps to train me, to teach me deeper trust in His mighty power to save and sustain. Or to engrave this lesson deeper: Even when I stumble, His grip never loosens.

So take heart, beloved. Whether you facing a dire health report, a difficult financial situation, family strife, sudden unemployment, or life’s crossroads—know this: His hands are always outstretched to catch you, to steady your fearful heart, and to prove that His love outlasts every storm. Not a single trial is wasted. As the psalmist discovered and Paul later penned, we don’t fall toward grace—we fall into it—into arms already holding us.

We continue to shout our praise even when we’re hemmed in with troubles, because we know how troubles can develop passionate patience in us, and how that patience in turn forges the tempered steel of virtue, keeping us alert for whatever God will do next. In alert expectancy such as this, we’re never left feeling shortchanged. Quite the contrary—we can’t round up enough containers to hold everything God generously pours into our lives through the Holy Spirit! (Romans 5:3-5, MSG)