God Will Fill In Your Gaps
Winter Sunrise - photo by Elizabeth Watkins
“My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.”
2 Corinthians 12:9
“Would you like to speak?” It was Friday, December 6, 2024, and the question came from Gary Allen, race director of the Millinocket Marathon and Half. The tall man with bright pink hair looked at me with an inviting smile. I was stunned and almost laughed out loud at the irony of the situation. But let me rewind a bit.
Only four weeks earlier, I sat across from my friend Ashlee, sipping tea and sobbing uncontrollably. They weren’t tears of joy or excitement—they were tears of anxiety. The Millinocket Memorial Library had just posted about my upcoming book event, and the response was overwhelming. So many people were excited, and many planned to attend. At the same time, I was preparing for the Millinocket Marathon, my first in fifteen years. The pressure felt immense.
“Everyone is so excited for me to come,” I told Ashlee between tears. “I mean, so many people have read my book—even strangers!”
Ashlee looked at me in surprise. “Elizabeth, that’s great! That’s what you want!”
“I know,” I said, blowing my nose. “I’m happy, but I feel….” I paused, searching for the right word. “I feel…so…exposed…so…inadequate. I mean, I’m just…me! I don’t know what to offer people!” And with that, I started crying again.
Have you ever felt this way? Overwhelmed by the enormity of something, and yet plagued by feelings of inadequacy? Humbled by your humanity? I sure have. Especially in the past two years.
After completing The Maine Thing in June 2023, I waited eight months before contacting an editor. I had been given the editor’s name immediately after finishing the manuscript, but fear and self-doubt kept me from reaching out. Similarly, I almost talked myself out of running the Millinocket marathon. Chronic health issues had plagued me all year, and though I knew I could finish, I feared performing poorly. I struggled with the idea of not being good enough.
Ashlee encouraged me to stop overthinking. “People love you for who you are,” she said. “You don’t have to perform. Your family loves you for you, not how you do in the race or at your book events. Just be yourself.”
Her words helped calm me down. I wiped my eyes and thought of my mentor, Theresa, who always reminded me to shift my focus.
“When you start to feel self-conscious, take your eyes off yourself,” Theresa advised. “Think about how you can serve others. Ask yourself, ‘How can I add value?’ It helps you get out of your own way. And pray,” she added. “Ask God to fill in your gaps.”
That advice helped me begin to let go of my insecurities. God would fill in my gaps.
Speaking has always been a challenge for me. Writing comes more naturally. I’ve worked diligently to become articulate and poised, but when I’m nervous or excited I still sometimes jumble my words. I realized my feelings of insecurity ultimately stemmed from my desire to be perfect. To portray an image of someone who has life all figured out. Do you ever feel that pressure? It’s a tough load to carry.
A few days later, I read a passage in my devotional that resonated deeply:
"The Lord Yahweh has equipped me with the anointed, skillful tongue of a teacher—to know how to speak a timely word to the weary. Morning by morning, He awakens my heart.” (Isaiah 50:4, TPT)
And in 2 Corinthians 12:9, I found reassurance: “My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.”
After reading these verses, I felt reassured. God would fill in all my gaps—physically, mentally, and emotionally.
When I arrived in Maine for my book events and marathon, my anxiety disappeared as I focused on others. My book event was a success, and I connected with so many wonderful people. But everything changed on December 6th—the day before the marathon.
I woke up feeling sick, drained of energy. I’d been around a lot of sick people over the past two weeks, and though I did everything I could to stay healthy, it finally caught up with me. I fought through the day, picking up my race packet, shopping at the marathon artisan fair, and selling my book at my booth. However, with each passing hour, I felt weaker and more depleted.
By 4 p.m. I headed to the Wabankai Lodge to meet the race director, Gary Allen. He’d helped promote my book on social media, and I had a small gift for him to say thank you. The press conference was about to begin, but I didn’t plan to stay. I hoped to give him the gift and head home to rest.
The room at the lodge was quiet but filled with anticipation. People were gathering, and I felt a little out of place. I scanned the room for Gary. When I found him, I approached him with the gift.
Gary stood out—tall, lean, and wearing a long black trench coat over athletic attire. But Gary’s most striking feature was his bright pink hair, which fell to his shoulders. It wasn’t a temporary style; he had fully committed to the color.
“Hello, Gary,” I said, extending my hand. “I’m Elizabeth Watkins. I just wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for the town and the race, and for helping to promote my book.”
Gary smiled and shook my hand. “Thank you so much for the gift,” he replied then nodded toward the media. “I need to speak with the news crew now.”
I stepped aside as the reporters motioned for him. I figured I’d leave, but as I made my way out to my car, I felt a nudge—a gentle prompting in my heart to go back inside.
I just want to go home, I thought. I’m exhausted. I’m not up for more socializing.
But the prompting wouldn’t go away.
After a moment of arguing with myself, I sighed, turned off the engine, and headed back inside. I found a woman near the door and asked, “Is it okay if I stay and listen?” I inwardly hoped she’d say no.
“Oh, yes!” she agreed immediately. “We’d love to have you!”
I settled in the back of the room, near the water cooler, hoping to stay unnoticed. I poured myself a cup of water and sipped the cool liquid as the news crew started recording. The first speaker was Gary, who shared the story of how the race had started.
“I started this race to help a hurting community,” Gary said passionately. “And look at what we’ve done together! You’ve all made a difference.”
I felt a lump in my throat as I joined the applause. Then Jenn Schott, a professional songwriter, took the stage and sang a song called Run Millinocket. I was deeply moved.
After Jenn finished, I poured myself more water and drank deeply, willing the ice water to calm my reeling emotions. Just then, Gary approached me.
“I just found out one of our speakers can’t make it,” he said, pointing to the program. “Would you like to speak?”
I blinked, surprised. “Sure,” I said, my heart skipping a beat. “What should I talk about?”
“Anything!” Gary replied, his eyes sparkling. He appeared invigorated by the change of events. “Tell your story and talk about your book. Whatever comes to mind. Remind me about yourself?”
I took a deep breath. “Well, I’m a mother of four, a school director, author, and runner. I grew up here in Millinocket but now live in Colorado. I’m back here to promote my book and run the race.”
Gary nodded enthusiastically. “Great! I’ll wing your introduction, and you can wing it too!”
I felt a wave of nervousness, but then I remembered what Ashlee had told me: Just be yourself.
I prayed quickly, “God, fill in my gaps.” Peace washed over me. If God was giving me this opportunity, I knew He would equip me.
When it was my turn to speak, I stepped up to the podium. I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I felt God’s presence guiding me. After I finished, a man named Jeff approached me.
“I’m starting a podcast,” he said. “You have a really interesting story. Would you be willing to be interviewed?”
I agreed, and we exchanged contact information.
As I walked to my car an hour later, I marveled at how God had filled in my gaps. Despite my fatigue, my insecurities, and my fear of public speaking, God had opened doors in ways I never could have planned or imagined.
As this new year begins, I’m still figuring out what’s next, but one thing I know for sure: God isn’t looking for perfection. He’s just looking for a surrendered heart—someone willing to trust Him. When we do, His grace fills in all the gaps. And He’s glorified in our weakness.
Let’s enter 2025 with courage, expectation, and a heart ready to serve. I’m excited to see what God will do!