February 2026

This month was a waiting month.

Waiting for snow to melt. Waiting to hear back from employers. Waiting for my mind to quiet so I could sleep. Most of all, waiting on the Lord to direct my next steps.

For the first time in my career, I had weeks without a set schedule. In some ways it felt like vacation—but it wasn’t planned, and it came without certainty.

Even in the waiting, there were beautiful moments. I attended a ladies’ event at church and heard my sweet friend teach on Deborah & Jael, powerful reminders of courage, obedience, and bold faith.

One night, while unraveling over text, a friend said, “God has a plan, and you need to trust it.”

I wish I could say I felt instant comfort. I didn’t. I was annoyed. “I KNOW that,” I thought. “It doesn’t get to be that simple right now.”

But it is that simple. Truth doesn’t stop being true just because we don’t feel it—or we’re tired of hearing it.

This season is temporary. There is a plan. And while I wait, I’m being invited to simply BE.

To stop trying to control what I cannot.
To surrender anxious thoughts.
To sit in discomfort without rushing to escape it.
To hum worship songs when words feel heavy (or sing loudly in my car).
And to “go to nature,” as my niece says.

Watching animals, feeling the breeze through trees, listening to waterfalls; creation moves in seasons without anxiety. Nature doesn’t panic about timing. It waits. It trusts.

One afternoon I read:
“All human wisdom is contained in these two words—Wait and Hope.” — The Count of Monte Cristo

Wait.
And hope.

Not wait and worry.
Not wait and strive.
Not wait and spiral.

Wait. And hope.

This season hasn’t been empty. It’s been shaping me. Right now what matters most isn’t having the full plan, it’s obedience, patience, and receiving the wisdom God is imparting.

Waiting is not wasted.
Sometimes it’s where hope takes its deepest roots.