September Part 2 A Season of Transition Pt. 2 24th-30th

September 24: Whatever it Cost

Journal Entry:

Today, I felt like I was walking around in God's presence all day.

I don't even know how to fully describe what I've been feeling lately. There has been so much gratitude, so much worship, and such a strong desire to be close to Him. I wake up wanting more of His Word. I want to keep learning who He is. I want the things I'm learning to become part of how I live.

And today, I made a decision that reminded me just how much my priorities have been changing.

I turned down the South Dakota job opportunity.

That was a big decision.

When I first started interviewing, I was excited about the position. It offered the possibility of greater income, career growth, and a clearer direction for our move. There were practical reasons to consider it, especially with everything I'm navigating financially and with the house.

But as the process continued, I found myself thinking more deeply about the life I want to build for my family.

I thought about my children.

I thought about the community we're becoming part of.

I thought about the opportunities to serve and grow in ministry.

And I thought about the kind of environment I want us to be rooted in during this next chapter.

After considering it, I no longer felt that moving to South Dakota was the direction I wanted to pursue.

So today, I let the opportunity go.

And I was at peace with that decision.

Not because the additional income wouldn't have helped. It absolutely could have.

Not because I suddenly have every financial answer or know exactly where we're going.

But because I don't want to choose the next chapter of our lives based on money alone.

I believe God is drawing me into a deeper season of serving Him, and I want the decisions I make to reflect that desire.

I want to be available for ministry.

I want to keep growing in my relationship with Him.

I want my children to be surrounded by people who will love them, encourage them, and help nurture their faith.

I want to build a home where hospitality, fellowship, and service are part of our everyday lives.

And I don't want to become so focused on securing the next opportunity that I lose sight of what matters most to me.

I want to live for God.

And today, that meant being willing to walk away from something I had been genuinely excited about.

I know that following my convictions can come with a cost. Sometimes the decision that aligns with what matters most to me may not be the one that offers the most money or the clearest timeline.

But I also recognize that trusting God doesn't mean I stop being responsible.

I still have a house to sell.

I still have children to provide for.

I still have financial decisions to make.

And I still need wisdom about the opportunities I pursue next.

Faith doesn't remove my responsibilities. It changes how I carry them.

I can take care of what's in front of me without making every decision from a place of fear.

I can continue working, preparing, planning, and asking questions while remaining open to a future that doesn't look exactly like the one I first imagined.

And if I have to adjust my plans along the way, I can do that too.

Today also reminded me that I need to pay attention to myself.

I woke up around three o'clock this morning, and I've been awake ever since. For much of the day, I felt wonderful. Therapy went well, and I was in such a good place emotionally and spiritually.

But as the evening went on, I noticed my body and my mind didn't seem to be moving at the same pace.

My heart felt full, but my body was tired.

And I found myself wondering why I was feeling the way I was feeling when nothing particularly upsetting had happened.

Maybe I simply need rest.

I've been waking up early, working, caring for my children, preparing the house, making decisions, and processing so much change.

Even beautiful things take energy.

Even meaningful decisions take energy.

And maybe tonight, I don't need to search for a deeper explanation for every feeling.

Maybe I just need to let myself be tired.

I don't have to turn exhaustion into a spiritual problem.

I don't have to push through every physical limit to show God how committed I am.

And I don't have to make another big decision tonight.

Today, I made the decision that was in front of me.

I turned down the job.

I went to therapy.

I handled my responsibilities.

I spent time drawing close to God.

And now, I can rest.

The more I think about it, the more I realize that surrender isn't always about doing more.

Sometimes it's about releasing the thing I no longer believe is mine to pursue.

Sometimes it's about accepting that I don't know what comes next.

And sometimes it's about trusting God enough to stop working on the future for a little while and get some sleep.

Yesterday, I sat outside at 3:19 in the morning, overwhelmed with gratitude for the opportunity to simply be with Him.

Today, that desire is still here.

I still want Him.

I want to know Him when I'm excited.

I want to know Him when I'm uncertain.

I want to know Him when I have an opportunity to consider.

I want to know Him when I have to let one go.

And I want to know Him in the ordinary moments when I'm simply a tired mother who needs to lie down and rest.

I don't know exactly what the next chapter will look like.

But I'm learning that I don't need to make every possible future fit into one particular plan.

I can remain open to what comes next while being honest about what matters most to me.

I can continue preparing this house.

I can keep loving my children.

I can serve where I am.

I can make thoughtful decisions when the time comes.

And I can keep drawing close to God without making my relationship with Him dependent on how quickly everything works out.

Today, I chose a direction without knowing the entire destination.

And tonight, I am trusting that I can continue walking forward one day at a time.

Whatever this next season requires of me, I want to approach it with faith, wisdom, humility, and an open heart.

But right now, what it requires of me is rest.

So I'm going to let this day be enough.

God, I want my life to belong to You.

My plans.

My decisions.

My work.

My motherhood.

My ministry.

My future.

And even this tired body that needs to rest tonight.

I'm still here.

I'm still willing.

I'm still learning.

And I'm still walking this faith thing out.

One decision. One day. One act of surrender at a time.

Prayer:Father,

Thank You for today.

Thank You for the peace I experienced, for my time in therapy, and for the opportunity to continue learning what it means to live a life devoted to You.

You know the decision I made today concerning the job opportunity in South Dakota. You know the excitement I initially felt, the practical benefits I considered, and the reasons I ultimately chose not to continue pursuing it.

I place that decision in Your hands.

Help me remain at peace with what I've decided without feeling that I have to know every detail of what comes next.

Give me wisdom as I continue preparing our home for sale and making decisions about our family's future. Help me be responsible with the resources I have while remembering that financial considerations are not the only things that matter.

Father, I want to serve You.

I want my home to be a place of love, hospitality, fellowship, and ministry. I want my children to grow in faith and be surrounded by people who encourage them.

Keep teaching me how to recognize opportunities to serve You right where I am, even while I'm waiting to see where our family will go next.

And tonight, Lord, I ask You to help me rest.

My heart is full, but my body is tired.

Help me listen to what my body needs. Quiet my thoughts, settle my mind, and allow me to sleep without feeling that I need to figure anything else out tonight.

Thank You that I don't have to earn Your love through exhaustion or constant activity.

Teach me to honor You in my decisions, my relationships, my work, and the way I care for myself.

I don't want to simply say that my life belongs to You. I want that desire to be reflected in how I live.

Give me the wisdom to know when to move, when to wait, when to release, and when to rest.

I'm here, God.

I'm willing.

And I want to keep drawing close to You.

In Jesus' name,

Amen.

---

September 25: The Gift in the Delay

Journal Entry:

Today was one of those days when nothing particularly extraordinary happened.

And honestly, I appreciated that.

The children were out of school, I had work to do, and there were still things around the house that needed my attention. It was a fairly ordinary Friday.

But even ordinary days have something to teach me.

My realtor was delayed again, and while I had been looking forward to seeing another piece of this house transition move forward, I wasn't upset about it.

I was actually okay.

And that alone reminded me how much my perspective has changed.

Earlier in this journey, a delay might have sent my mind racing.

What does this mean? Is something going wrong? Are we falling behind? Should I be doing something else?

But today, I didn't feel the need to go down that road.

I simply accepted that the plans had changed.

And then I looked at what I could do with the time I had been given back.

I studied.

And that was significant for me.

With everything happening around the house, the children, work, and the decisions I've been navigating, my studies have not received the attention I want to give them.

I've been trying to keep up with so many things that sitting down and concentrating on school has been difficult.

But today, I finally had an opportunity to focus.

To sit down.

To study.

To give my education some of the attention it deserves.

And I was grateful for that.

Because school is part of this season too.

My education matters.

The goals I committed to before this transition began still matter.

And while preparing this house is important, I don't want every other part of my life to disappear while I'm doing it.

I can prepare for what's next without neglecting what's already in front of me.

That's something God has been teaching me throughout September.

I don't have to make everything happen at once.

I don't have to treat every change in plans like an emergency.

And I don't have to interpret every delay as a sign that something is wrong.

Sometimes a delay is simply a delay.

Sometimes it creates room for rest.

Sometimes it creates room for family.

And sometimes, like today, it creates room to catch up on something I've been needing to do.

I don't know why the realtor's schedule changed. I don't need to assign a spiritual explanation to every adjustment.

But I can recognize the good that came from the time becoming available.

And today, that good was having the opportunity to study.

I've lived long enough to know that disappointment doesn't have to determine my response.

I can be excited about something and still be okay when it doesn't happen exactly when I expected.

I can look forward to the Coming Soon sign going into the yard without allowing its delay to steal my peace.

I can want this house to sell without becoming consumed by the timeline.

I can trust God while continuing to handle my responsibilities.

Trust doesn't mean I stop preparing. It means I don't have to panic when preparation takes longer than expected.

And maybe that's what made today so beautiful in its simplicity.

There wasn't a major revelation.

There wasn't an emotional breakthrough.

There wasn't another big decision to make.

I worked.

I took care of some things around the house.

I spent time studying.

And I allowed the day to be what it was.

A good Friday.

A productive Friday.

A Friday that reminded me that my life is still happening while I'm waiting for the next chapter.

I don't want to rush through these days simply because I'm excited about what may be coming.

There is still value in today.

There is still purpose in the work I have to do.

There is still something worth appreciating in an afternoon that unexpectedly opens up.

And there is still growth happening in the way I respond when my plans change.

Earlier this month, I was learning how to stop manufacturing solutions.

Then I was learning how to rest.

Then I was learning how to focus on what was in front of me.

And today, I got another opportunity to practice all three.

I didn't manufacture another plan. I didn't panic about the delay. I simply used the time in front of me.

And tonight, I'm grateful for that.

The house is still being prepared.

My studies are still moving forward.

My children are still living their lives.

And I'm still learning how to walk through this transition without allowing every unfinished detail to become a burden.

The sign will go up when the arrangements are made.

The house will go on the market when it's ready.

And in the meantime, I have things I can do today.

So I'm going to keep doing them.

With patience.

With gratitude.

And without allowing a change in plans to convince me that I'm somehow falling behind.

Today didn't happen exactly as I expected. But it gave me something I needed.

Time.

Time to study.

Time to focus.

Time to catch up.

And another opportunity to practice peace.

Maybe that is enough of a lesson for one Friday.

Delayed doesn't have to mean denied. Sometimes it simply means I have time for something else today.

And today, I was grateful for the gift in the delay.

Prayer: Father,

Thank You for today. Thank You for an ordinary Friday and for the opportunity to work, care for my home, and spend time on my studies. Thank You for the progress I've been able to make throughout this season, even when things haven't happened according to my original plans. Father, continue teaching me patience. When something I'm excited about gets delayed, help me respond with wisdom rather than frustration.

Remind me that a change in plans doesn't automatically mean something has gone wrong. Help me recognize the opportunities available in the time I have instead of becoming consumed by the time I thought I would have. Thank You for my education.

Thank You for the opportunity to continue working toward a goal I committed to before this transition began. Give me the discipline, concentration, and energy to remain faithful to my studies while balancing work, motherhood, and preparing this house.

Help me establish a rhythm that allows me to care for the responsibilities You've placed in my hands without becoming overwhelmed. And Father, as this house continues moving toward the market, give me peace with the process. Help me do what is mine to do. Give me wisdom to communicate, prepare, and make decisions as needed.

And when something is outside my control, help me release the need to manage every detail. I don't want to spend this season rushing toward tomorrow while overlooking the opportunities You've given me today. Teach me to appreciate the time in front of me.

Whether the day brings progress, rest, a change in plans, or an unexpected opportunity to catch up, help me receive it with gratitude. Thank You for continuing to work on my character through this transition. Thank You for teaching me that patience is something I can practice in the smallest moments. And thank You that I don't have to manufacture a meaning for every delay to find something good in the day. I'm still preparing. I'm still learning. I'm still trusting. And I'm grateful for the gift of today.

In Jesus' name, Amen.

---

September 26: It's Happening Right Before My Eyes..

"The Lord hath done great things for us; whereof we are glad " Psalm 126:3

Journal Entry:

Today was full.

Full of family. Full of love. Full of celebration. Full of moments I wish I could have stretched just a little longer.

And now that I'm finally sitting down, I'm realizing just how much happened in one day.

We started with my grandboy's baseball game, and so much of the family came out to support him.

Watching him look around and see all those familiar faces cheering him on was something special. The joy on his face was everything.

He wasn't just playing baseball.

He was looking out and seeing how loved he is.

How supported he is.

How many people were willing to show up just to celebrate him.

And I sat there thinking about how beautiful that is.

There is something powerful about a child knowing he has people who will show up for him.

Not just when he accomplishes something extraordinary. Not just when there's a special occasion. But simply because he matters.

And today, he got to experience that.

After the game, we celebrated with a little pool party, and my grandboy was in his element.

He wanted to show Honey everything.

Every little thing he was doing, every little thing he was excited about—he wanted me to see it.

And I soaked it up.

Because one day, he won't be this little boy anymore.

One day, the things he gets excited about will change. His interests will change. His world will get bigger.

But today, he wanted his Honey to see everything.

And I got to be there.

I also got to spend time with his mom and dad and their family, and that was beautiful in its own way.

There is such a warmth in being around people who make you feel like family.

We were in the kitchen, just us girls, cooking, preparing food, talking, and enjoying one another.

Nothing complicated.

Nothing that needed to be planned down to the minute.

Just people being together.

And I loved every moment of it.

I've been thinking so much lately about community, love, and what it means to show up for people.

Today, I got to experience those things in the simplest ways.

A baseball game.

A pool party.

A kitchen full of women preparing food.

A little boy who couldn't wait to show his Honey what he was doing.

These are the moments that make a life beautiful.

Then we came home, and it was time to get Kaia ready for homecoming.

And oh, my mommy heart.

I don't even know how to explain what that felt like.

One minute, we were getting everything together.

The next minute, she was dressed.

And then she was gone.

Just like that.

My baby was going to homecoming.

I stood there thinking, How did we get here?

When did this happen?

When did she become this young lady standing in front of me?

I know she's growing up. I see her every day. I watch her becoming more independent, developing her own style, making her own decisions, and stepping into new experiences.

But something about seeing her dressed for homecoming made time feel different.

It was as though I could see all the years at once.

The little girl she used to be.

The young lady she is now.

And the woman she's gradually becoming.

And I wanted everything to slow down.

Just for a minute.

I wanted to look at her a little longer.

I wanted to take in the moment without thinking about what needed to happen next.

Because this was one of those moments I know I'll remember.

And it brought me back to the conversation we had just a few days ago.

When she told me she didn't want to go to homecoming because she knew how much I had going on with the house.

When she was willing to miss a high school memory because she didn't want to add another expense to my plate.

And I told her that no matter what she sees me carrying, I am not carrying it alone.

I told her I didn't want her to miss out on being a teenager simply because our family is in transition.

And today, I got to watch her go.

She didn't have to put her life on hold while I prepared for our next chapter.

She got to make her memory.

And I got to be her mama, standing there with a heart full of gratitude, trying to understand how the years had passed so quickly.

But that wasn't the only thing happening today.

The Coming Soon sign went into the yard.

And the lockbox was installed.

It's happening.

After all the preparation, the painting, the repairs, the cleaning, the waiting, the rescheduling, the conversations, and the prayers...

There was finally a sign in the yard.

Something visible.

Something that made this transition feel a little more real.

And I couldn't help but think about everything this house has meant to us.

The stability it gave us.

The safety we experienced here.

The memories we made.

The healing that happened within these walls.

The woman I've become while living here.

And now, we're preparing to pass it on.

I don't know exactly how the sale will unfold.

I don't know who will eventually walk through the door and decide this is the place they want to call home.

I don't know precisely where we'll be going next.

But today, I could look outside and see a tangible step forward.

The house that has held so much of our becoming is getting ready for its next chapter too.

And somehow, all of these things happened on the same day.

My grandboy was making memories.

My daughter was making memories.

And I was preparing to release the place where so many of our memories have been made.

Oh, God has a sense of humor.

Because I've been spending this entire month learning how to surrender, how to trust, how to stop manufacturing, and how to focus on what's in front of me.

And today, what was in front of me was almost too much beauty to take in at once.

I watched one generation experience the joy of being surrounded by family.

I watched another generation step into a new season of growing up.

And I watched a home that has sheltered us for years take another step toward being released.

Life was happening right before my eyes.

And I almost couldn't keep up with it.

Maybe that's what I want to remember most about today.

Not just that the sign went up.

Not just that Kaia went to homecoming.

Not just that my grandboy had a baseball game and a pool party.

But that I was present for all of it.

I got to show up.

I got to celebrate.

I got to love.

I got to watch.

I got to witness the joy on their faces.

And I got to experience the strange, beautiful feeling of watching life move forward.

There is joy in that.

And there's a little ache in it too.

Because even when change is good, it reminds me that nothing stays exactly the same forever.

Children grow.

Seasons change.

Homes are passed on.

And life keeps moving.

But today reminded me that I don't have to rush through one season just because another one is approaching.

I can be grateful for where we've been, present for where we are, and hopeful about where we're going.

All at the same time.

Tonight, I'm tired.

My body is tired.

My mind is tired.

And after everything that happened today, I'm ready for some rest.

But my heart?

My heart is full.

Full of gratitude for my grandboy.

Full of gratitude for the family that surrounds him.

Full of gratitude for Kaia and the beautiful young lady she's becoming.

Full of gratitude for the people who helped make her homecoming possible.

Full of gratitude for this house and everything it has given us.

And full of gratitude for the opportunity to witness all of it.

I don't need to figure out what happens next tonight.

I don't need to think about every showing, every offer, every financial detail, or every possible destination.

Tonight, I just want to remember today.

The smiles.

The laughter.

The kitchen conversations.

The little boy showing off for Honey.

The young lady walking out the door to homecoming.

The sign standing in the yard.

It's happening right before my eyes.

And tonight, my prayer is simply:

God, thank You for allowing me to be here to see it.

Thank You for the years that brought us to this moment.

Thank You for the people who make these moments beautiful.

And thank You for reminding me that even while I'm preparing for what's next, there is still so much life to enjoy right here.

I'm tired, Lord. But I'm thankful.

So very thankful.

Prayer: Father, Thank You for this beautiful, full day. Thank You for the opportunity to watch my grandboy play baseball and experience the joy of having his family there to support him. Thank You for every person who showed up for him. Let him continue growing up knowing that he is loved, valued, and surrounded by people who care about him. Thank You for the time we spent together afterward. Thank You for the laughter, the pool party, the conversations, and those little moments when he wanted his Honey to see everything. Help me never become so busy that I overlook the gift of being present in his life. Father, thank You for Kaia. Thank You for the beautiful young lady she's becoming. Thank You for the opportunity to watch her experience homecoming and make memories that belong to this season of her life. You know how quickly these years seem to be passing. Help me slow down enough to appreciate them.

Help me guide her with wisdom while giving her room to grow. And thank You for the people who helped make this day special for her. Thank You for reminding me that our family's transition doesn't have to stop us from experiencing joy. Father, thank You for this house. Thank You for the years of shelter, stability, healing, and growth we've experienced here. Thank You for every memory these walls have held. And thank You for another step forward today as the Coming Soon sign and lockbox were installed.

As we prepare for the next stage of this process, give me wisdom, patience, and peace.

Help me do what needs to be done without becoming consumed by what I cannot control. When the time comes to release this home, help me do it with gratitude.

And wherever our next chapter takes us, help me remember that the most meaningful parts of home are the love, safety, and relationships we continue building together.

Father, tonight I'm tired. So I ask You for rest. Let my mind settle. Let my body recover.

And let me enjoy the goodness of this day without feeling that I need to immediately prepare for tomorrow. Thank You for allowing me to witness life happening right before my eyes. Thank You for my family. Thank You for community. Thank You for memories. Thank You for growth. Thank You for new beginnings. And thank You for the grace to be present while one season gradually becomes another. I'm grateful for what has been. I'm grateful for what is. And I'm trusting You with what comes next.

In Jesus' name,

Amen.

---

September 27: Already In My Hands

Journal Entry:

Today was a full Sunday.

And I don't even know how to explain everything I'm feeling tonight.

I started the morning at church, and Pastor was talking about barriers to worship. He challenged us to consider how easily we can become distracted by external things and allow our personal preferences, opinions, or judgments to interfere with our ability to worship.

One statement stayed with me:

We must have conviction without contempt.

That was powerful.

Because just last Sunday, we were in Luke 15, talking about how easily we can begin looking at people as those people when their lives or choices look different from ours.

And here we are again, being challenged to examine our hearts.

I can have convictions without looking down on someone else.

I can recognize differences without allowing them to become barriers to love.

I can worship God without making my worship dependent on whether everybody around me looks, acts, or expresses themselves the way I do.

And I can remember that church was never intended to revolve around my personal preferences.

Pastor talked about how people sometimes become so focused on the size of a church that they lose sight of its mission.

But the question isn't simply how big or small a church is.

What are we doing with the people God has brought together?

Are we making disciples?

Are we loving people?

Are we helping people grow in their relationship with Christ?

Are we serving?

Or have we become so concerned with what church does for us that we've forgotten our responsibility to participate in its mission?

That challenged me.

Because I've been asking God to prepare me for ministry in this next season. I've been thinking about the kind of home I want to create, the women I want to encourage, and the people I hope to welcome into my life.

But ministry isn't something that has to wait until I have another address.

It isn't something that begins when I have a platform, an event, or a perfectly organized plan.

Ministry can happen wherever I am willing to love and serve.

And today, I got to see that in the simplest, most beautiful way.

After church, we went over to our neighbor's house, and she had prepared an entire spread of food.

And when I tell you that food was good!

She was in that kitchen making homemade cinnamon rolls, kneading her own dough and everything.

I was just looking at her like, Girl, who does this? 😂

But I loved it.

I loved watching her do something she genuinely enjoys.

There was such joy in the way she prepared everything and welcomed people into her home. You could see how much she loved what she was doing.

And as I watched her, I thought:

This is ministry too.

It may not look like standing behind a microphone.

It may not involve teaching a Bible study.

It may not have a title attached to it.

But there is something beautiful about using what you love to do to make other people feel welcomed, cared for, and loved.

She was doing what came naturally to her.

And the rest of us got to experience the blessing of it.

I was especially happy to participate in the eating portion of her ministry!

But seriously, I walked away thinking about how often we overlook the gifts people carry because they don't look like what we've traditionally called ministry.

Some people sing.

Some people teach.

Some people encourage.

Some people create.

Some people open their homes.

And some people make homemade cinnamon rolls that will have you thanking God before you finish the first bite.

Different gifts. Different expressions. One opportunity to love people well.

And maybe that's part of what God has been showing me throughout this entire month.

I don't have to wait until everything is in place to begin living with purpose.

I can serve with what I have.

I can love with what I have.

I can encourage with what I have.

I can make room for people with what I have.

And I can appreciate the gifts He's placed in others without comparing them to my own.

Then tonight, we went to revival at North Point.

And whew.

I left with something else to carry in my heart.

Everything I have is everything I need for what is in front of me right now.

That thought brought me back to Moses.

What is that in thine hand?

A rod.

Something ordinary.

Something familiar.

Something he had probably carried countless times without imagining how it could be used.

And I started thinking about my own life.

How much time have I spent looking at what I don't have?

The money I haven't received.

The house I haven't purchased.

The answers I haven't gotten.

The resources I think I'll need for the next chapter.

The things I believe must fall into place before I can move forward.

And tonight, I felt challenged to look again at what's already in my hands.

I have a home that I'm preparing to sell.

I have work.

I have an education I'm continuing to pursue.

I have children to love and guide.

I have relationships and a community that have become such a beautiful part of my life.

I have experiences that have shaped me.

I have a testimony that is still unfolding.

And I have opportunities to serve people right where I am.

None of that is insignificant.

Maybe I've been so busy looking for something extraordinary that I've overlooked the ordinary things I already have an opportunity to steward.

And what makes this even more interesting is that my realtor reached out tonight about some things concerning the house.

Even in the middle of revival, the practical responsibilities of this transition were still there.

There are still conversations to have.

Still details to work through.

Still decisions to make.

And I still don't know exactly how everything will unfold.

But tonight, I don't feel the need to figure it all out.

I can respond to the realtor.

I can handle the next practical step.

I can continue preparing.

And I can remain open to possibilities I haven't considered yet.

Because trusting God doesn't mean I stop using wisdom or stop taking responsibility.

It means I don't have to become consumed by everything I cannot yet see.

I don't know whether the next part of this story will look extraordinary from the outside.

I don't know what the house will sell for.

I don't know who the buyer will be.

I don't know exactly where my family will go next.

But I know I don't want to overlook what is already here while waiting to find out.

And tonight, I find myself thinking about how beautifully the day came together.

This morning, I was reminded that worship and ministry aren't about making everything revolve around me.

This afternoon, I watched someone use an ordinary gift to love people in an extraordinary way.

And tonight, I was reminded to look at what God has already placed in my hands.

Conviction without contempt. Ministry without a platform. Faithfulness with what I already have.

That's what I'm taking from September 27.

I don't have to manufacture something impressive to be useful.

I don't have to wait until I have a different house to practice hospitality.

I don't have to wait until I have more money to be generous with my time and encouragement.

I don't have to wait until I know the ending of this story to share what I'm learning in the middle of it.

And I don't have to overlook the gifts of the people around me because their ministry looks different from mine.

Today reminded me that purpose can be expressed in so many ordinary ways.

In a sermon.

In a conversation.

In a kitchen.

Around a table.

In a home.

In the way we welcome people.

In the way we love.

And in the willingness to offer God whatever is already in our hands.

Tonight, I'm still in transition.

The house is still moving toward the market.

The next address is still unknown.

But I'm not empty-handed.

I have something to steward today.

And tomorrow, I'll take another step with whatever is in front of me then.

I don't know what God will do with the ordinary pieces of this season.

But I'm here for it.

My hands are open.

My heart is willing.

And I'm learning not to despise the ordinary while waiting for something extraordinary.

God, here is what I have.

Teach me to use it well.

Prayer: Father, Thank You for this beautiful Sunday. Thank You for the opportunity to worship this morning and for the reminder that my personal preferences should never become barriers to loving people or participating in the mission of Your church.

Teach me to have conviction without contempt. Help me hold firmly to what I believe while treating people with dignity, patience, and compassion. Keep me from making worship about appearances, preferences, or the way other people express themselves.

Remind me that the church is called to make disciples, love people, and serve.

Father, thank You for the beautiful fellowship we experienced today.

Thank You for our neighbor and the joy she finds in welcoming people and preparing food. Thank You for reminding me that ministry can take so many forms.

Help me recognize the gifts You've placed in others, celebrate them, and receive the love they offer without overlooking its value. And help me recognize the opportunities to serve that are already in front of me. I don't want to wait for a platform, a title, or a new address before I begin living with purpose. Father, thank You for the reminder from revival tonight. When I become focused on what I lack, help me look again at what I already have. Give me wisdom to steward my home, my work, my education, my relationships, my time, and the opportunities You've placed before me. Teach me to use what I have faithfully without assuming that I must possess everything I will ever need right now. And as this house journey continues, help me remain grounded. Give me wisdom in every conversation with my realtor. Help me ask the right questions, make thoughtful decisions, and handle the responsibilities that belong to me. Keep me from trying to manufacture an outcome simply because I want to know what happens next.

I surrender the timeline. I surrender the details I cannot control. I surrender my expectations about how this next chapter must look. And I ask You to help me remain faithful with what is already in my hands. Let me never become so focused on what I'm waiting for that I overlook what You've already entrusted to me. Thank You for the gifts, the relationships, the opportunities, and the ordinary moments that make up my life today. I'm here, Father. I'm available. I'm willing. And whatever tomorrow brings, help me meet it with wisdom, gratitude, and faith. In Jesus' name, Amen.

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September 28:When Faith Meets Fear

Journal Entry

Today is September 28.

My baby Jaleel turns four today.

And while there is so much to celebrate about his little life, today also became one of the hardest days of this transition.

Today, I felt defeated.

I received a call about the house that I wasn't prepared for. And from what I heard, it sounded as though the plans I've been working toward might not happen the way I expected.

And just like that, the questions started.

God, did I hear You correctly?

Did I read too much into everything?

What was the purpose of all this preparation?

Why have I been walking through this entire process if it isn't going to happen?

I started questioning the very things I've spent this month learning to trust.

And for a moment, I lost my focus.

What made it especially difficult was the timing.

People were literally on their way to my house to help with staging when I received the news.

People who were giving their time.

People who were making sacrifices to help me get this house ready.

And suddenly, I felt terrible.

What if this doesn't happen? What if everybody is doing all this work for nothing? What if I'm wasting their time?

I wanted a solution immediately.

My mind started searching.

What can I do? Who can I call? How do I fix this? What's the next move?

And I didn't have an answer.

Nothing.

I couldn't come up with a solution that would make the uncertainty disappear.

And that was uncomfortable.

Because even after everything I've learned this month about surrender, there is still a part of me that wants to be able to fix things when they start looking like they're falling apart.

But then I remembered what I had been singing just last night.

Help is on the way.

I will not fear.

Those words had been on my lips before I ever received today's phone call.

And here I was, less than a day later, afraid.

At first, that almost made me feel worse.

How could I spend an evening singing about trusting God and then become so shaken when something difficult happened?

But tonight, Psalm 56 is reminding me that faith doesn't require me to pretend fear isn't real.

“What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee.”

Not if I ever become afraid.

When.

David knew what it was to feel threatened and uncertain. And he chose to turn toward God in the middle of it.

Maybe that's the lesson I needed today.

Not that I should have been able to receive that phone call without feeling anything.

Not that I should have immediately known exactly what to do.

But that when fear arrived, I could recognize it and bring myself back to the One I've been learning to trust.

And that's what I began to do.

I had to remind myself that the news I received today is information about my circumstances. It isn't a final statement about my worth, my future, or my relationship with God.

It may mean that plans need to change.

It may mean that I need to ask more questions.

It may mean that I need to reconsider an expectation I've been holding.

I don't know yet.

But I don't have to settle every question about my future tonight.

I can let today's news be difficult without allowing it to define everything that has happened before it.

The preparation wasn't meaningless simply because the outcome is uncertain.

The time people have spent helping me wasn't automatically wasted.

The love they have shown me is real.

The work we've done is real.

The growth I've experienced is real.

And even if the next chapter looks different from what I imagined, those things don't disappear.

Today also brought another kind of heart check.

Someone lovingly challenged me in an area where I needed to extend more grace.

And I had to receive that.

Even while I was hurting.

Even while I was frustrated.

Even while I was trying to make sense of everything happening with the house.

I had to recognize that my own disappointment doesn't excuse me from treating someone else with compassion.

That's been a recurring lesson this month.

Conviction without contempt.

Love without needing to agree with everything.

Grace for people who don't respond the way I hoped.

And humility when someone helps me see something about myself that I couldn't see clearly in the moment.

I have spent so much of September asking God to prepare my house.

But over and over again, I've found myself confronting what needs attention in my own heart.

My fear.

My need for control.

My expectations.

My reactions.

My willingness to extend grace.

And today, another layer was uncovered.

I don't particularly enjoy these moments.

But I don't want to miss what I can learn from them either.

Because the woman I am becoming matters, regardless of what happens with this house.

I want to be a woman who can receive disappointing news without allowing fear to make every decision.

A woman who can accept loving correction without immediately becoming defensive.

A woman who can recognize when she needs to apologize, extend grace, or reconsider her perspective.

A woman who can acknowledge that she may have misunderstood something without believing that God has abandoned her.

And a woman who knows that trusting God doesn't require her to have every answer.

Tonight, I keep returning to that question:

Did I hear God correctly?

And I don't have a complete answer.

There are things I believed were becoming clear to me throughout this season. There are things I hoped would happen. There are moments that encouraged me to keep going.

But I also know that my understanding is limited.

I can be sincere in my faith and still misunderstand the timing or the direction.

I can be hopeful and still need to adjust my plans.

And I can trust God without insisting that every expectation I formed must become reality.

I don't have to defend my interpretation of this season at the expense of being open to what is actually happening.

That's not giving up on faith.

That's making room for humility within it.

And maybe that's the hardest part of today.

I want to believe that all this preparation is leading somewhere beautiful.

I still hope it is.

But tonight, I can't see how the pieces fit together.

So instead of trying to manufacture another solution, I want to spend some time in the Word.

I want to sit with Psalm 56.

I want to remember that fear is something I can bring to God, not something I have to hide from Him.

And I want to allow myself to be honest.

Today hurt.

Today shook me.

Today raised questions I cannot answer.

But today also reminded me that I have a choice about what I do with those questions.

I can allow them to consume me.

Or I can bring them before God, seek wisdom, and take the next responsible step when I have enough information to do so.

Tonight, I choose to bring them to Him.

Not because I suddenly feel certain about the house.

Not because I know where the money will come from.

Not because I know exactly what tomorrow's phone calls will bring.

But because I don't want fear to become the voice that determines my next move.

Yesterday, I was reminded to look at what was already in my hands.

Today, I realized that I cannot hold every part of this situation in those hands.

And perhaps tonight, the most faithful thing I can do is open them.

To release the need to solve everything before I sleep.

To receive the love of the people who are helping me.

To extend grace where grace is needed.

To celebrate my baby's fourth birthday.

And to remember that one difficult phone call doesn't have to erase the goodness of an entire day—or an entire season.

I don't know what happens next.

I don't know whether the house will sell the way I hoped.

I don't know whether the path ahead will require a change of plans.

But I know I don't want to make decisions from panic.

I want to make them with wisdom, prayer, and a clear understanding of the facts.

And tonight, before I try to figure out another thing, I want to sit with the words David wrote:

“What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee.”

Today, I was afraid.

Tonight, I'm bringing that fear to God.

And tomorrow, I'll take the next step that's actually in front of me.

I'm still becoming.

Even here.

Especially here.

Prayer: Father, Today was hard. You know the news I received about the house. You know how quickly my mind began searching for answers and how deeply I questioned the things I believed I understood. I bring all of that to You tonight. The disappointment.

The fear. The confusion. The questions. And the exhaustion of trying to figure out what to do next. Father, I don't want to pretend I'm not afraid. But I also don't want fear to make my decisions for me. Your Word says, “What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee.”

Help me practice that. Give me wisdom to understand the actual situation with the house. Help me ask the right questions, receive accurate information, and recognize which decisions need to be made now and which can wait. If my plans need to change, give me the courage to acknowledge that. If I've misunderstood something, give me humility to reconsider it. And if there are still possibilities I cannot see, help me remain open without forcing myself to believe that I know the outcome. Father, thank You for the people who have given their time and energy to help me prepare this home.

Help me receive their love without turning it into another burden of guilt.

Thank You for the work we've accomplished and for the memories this home has held.

Whatever happens next, help me remember that the care, preparation, and growth of this season have not been meaningless. And Father, thank You for the loving correction I received today. Keep my heart tender enough to receive truth, even when I'm hurting.

Help me extend grace to others in the same way I continually need grace myself.

Don't let disappointment harden my heart. Don't let fear make me unkind. And don't let uncertainty cause me to lose sight of the people I love. Thank You for Jadalio and the gift of celebrating his fourth birthday. Help me remain present for the beautiful moments of life, even while I'm carrying difficult things.Tonight, I don't need to manufacture another answer. I need to rest. I need Your Word. I need wisdom.

And I need the peace that comes from remembering I don't have to know everything before I can take another step. Father, when I am afraid, teach me to trust You.

When I am confused, help me seek truth. When I am disappointed, keep my heart open. When I need to change direction, give me courage. And when I have done everything that is mine to do today, help me release the rest. I don't know exactly how this story will unfold.But I am still here. Still learning. Still willing. Still drawing close.

And still placing my life before You. In Jesus' name, Amen.