Locusts, Cicada's and Singing, Oh My!
We were down, but we were not out.
Eleven years. That’s how long some cicadas stay buried underground.
They live beneath the surface, out of sight, growing silently in the dark.
No songs. No beauty. Just transformation in the quiet.
But when they finally emerge, they don’t tiptoe out.
Their “music” fills the air — bold, undeniable, and unmistakably alive.
It’s a sacred metaphor.
For me — and for many women like me — especially those who’ve walked through divorce, betrayal, or years spent simply surviving instead of living, the idea of “lost time” is painfully real.
Maybe you spent years holding a marriage together that was slowly falling apart.
I did.
Maybe you poured everything into motherhood, caregiving, or a special friendship and now feel like there’s not much left for you.
I understand.
Maybe you look in the mirror and quietly wonder, Where did she go?
Me too.
And maybe, deep down, you fear that it’s too late to reclaim what’s been lost.
I felt that way also.
But then came the whisper of God's Word:
“I will restore to you the years that the locust hath eaten.” — Joel 2:25
God restores time.
The years that felt stolen—by heartbreak, by fear, by survival—were not wasted to Him.
They were the soil where something holy was growing, even if we couldn’t see it.
I didn’t see it. I didn’t understand.
But like the cicada, I was underground — not forgotten, not discarded, just becoming.
And maybe you were too.
God was never blind to my tears or deaf to my prayers.
He’s not blind or deaf to yours either.
And now?
It’s okay for us to rise.
It’s okay for us to make noise again.
It’s okay to reclaim our songs — even if it’s not the same tune we used to sing.
It’s okay for us to believe we are not past our prime…
We are just coming into it.
So, I sing. Loud—like I’ve just emerged.
Sing with me. Celebrate with me.
We were down for far too long.
God is restoring the years that were stolen away.
Let’s not be quiet about that.