I do not have the plans for tomorrow, but I know the promise of today.
I do not understand how this season will end, but my default is to draw closer to your heart, when mine is in pieces.
I may not have the address of our residence in five months, but I have the smells still simmering from a home cooked meal last night.
I don’t have the direction, but I have the warmth of a safe home and windows to watch the snow fall.
It is in the confusion that I have found a clarity, one that is born in brokenness, in sheer disbelief that a leap could take such a turn. Because it is through the unknowns of this life where our faith becomes less of an aesthetic quote, and more of a lifeline to keep going.
It is in the wilderness, and ruin— where life and bloom are found.
Pain molded into purpose, and a grateful heart, even if only for this moment, and the small treasures to be found— is gained.
I’ve never been less sure of anything in my life, but what I’ll never falter in knowing to be true, is your undeniable, reckless way of chasing me down and guiding me to all that you have kept.
In the waiting is where I find peace that you’re working. In ways only you can, you are bringing me into something new, something I never could have imagined.
And so, I’ll sit in this place, clinging to the joy in the laughter of my children, asking my soul to be still and become less infatuated with the future and more submerged with today.
To become a small child again, without concern for next month, and to live in the freedom of rest and play.
So that when I arrive, whenever it may be— I do so having been through the fire, and knowing I am strong enough to, should it arise again— be bold enough to walk out of the ash.
Faith. Women. Empowerment. 
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