It Ends In Victory

I had a dream the other night. Someone came for my purse—tried to snatch it. We fought. I don’t remember if I won. But I remember the struggle.

Funny thing is, the next time I wore that purse was last night—at the club—when the Lord whispered to me, “It ends in victory.” I guess the dream had already told the story. The enemy came for something valuable. But the outcome had already been decided.

My husband’s been trying to get me to go out and turn up with him for years. Until now, it’s just been lounges and dinner dates. But last night? We packed out 202 Lounge.

It’s not easy being the wife of a club manager. To some, he’s royalty. And the attention?

Endless. Booties in his face like it’s routine. I let a few girls dance in front of him. It didn’t shake me. I watched, calm and composed. Present.

I met everyone for the first time last night. One of the dancers came up to me and said, “I love you so much.” I was taken aback, but my husband had already told me, “They love you here—even if they don’t know you yet.”

Still, some moments hit different. Like when a couple girls looked disappointed to learn he was married. Or when he boldly told me he wanted to introduce me to one of them. That part blew me.

But right in the middle of that moment, I heard it again: “It ends in victory.”

That word settled me. It reminded me that yes, his eyes may wander—but I still win. I’m the one he comes home to. I’m the one with the covenant. That’s not insecurity talking—that’s identity.

So I danced on him too. Not to compete. Just to remind. To cover. To connect. He’s the only one in there not being danced on most nights, so I gave him a moment. A memory. A little something to hold him over.

And let’s just say—when we got home? He remembered exactly who he belonged to. Victory confirmed.

Could I have done more? Of course. But I chose restraint. Just because you can show out doesn’t mean you should. I carry something holy. Even in heels. Even in a lounge.

I didn’t drink. It’s still been years. I’ve committed to staying sober, clear, and spiritually alert. The Word says rightly divide the truth. That phrase—rightly divide—comes from a word meaning “cut straight,” like the offerings priests laid before God.

And that’s what this season feels like—cutting. It burns sometimes. It costs something. But in the end, there is victory.

So I’m walking in it every step of the way!