Tender Stretches

Life has a tender way of humbling us. Some seasons arrive bright and effortless, filled with joy, connection, and those small delights that make the world feel gentle. Others come with shadows — the kind that invite us to pause, breathe, and gather ourselves before taking the next step. We all know those stretches: the unexpected challenges, the uncertainties, the moments that shake our confidence and leave us wondering how to move forward with grace.

Recently, I’ve found myself in one of those tender stretches. I won’t name the details here, but I will say this: Life has asked more of me lately than it usually does. And in that asking, I’ve found myself turning inward and upward, seeking steadiness from the One who never changes. What has become beautifully, undeniably clear is this: No matter the circumstance, whether you’re walking through loss, transitions, heartache, financial uncertainty, health concerns, or simply the quiet weight of “too much," our Creator is always near. Always. Even when our spirit feels fragile. Even when we wake with questions instead of clarity. Even when we feel tired in places that rest alone can’t reach. God does not move away from us in our difficult moments. He moves toward us. And in that nearness, He still offers sweetness and moments of grace that feel like warm hands around a weary heart.

For me, some of the greatest gifts in this season have been my grandchildren. Watching them grow, witnessing their curiosity, hearing their laughter, feeling their small hands wrap around mine — those moments remind me of the simple, sacred beauty woven into everyday life. They draw me back to center. They remind me that even when life feels heavy, love continues to expand and overflow in ways that ground and lift me all at once.

So I’m choosing a slower trust right now. A deliberate trust. One that invites me to be quiet, to listen, to breathe deeply, and to remember that God has never once failed to guide me - not in the darkest nights, not in the heaviest moments, not in the long stretches of waiting.

If you find yourself in a season that feels heavier than usual, I hope you can hold this close: You are not walking alone. You are held with intention. You are seen with compassion. You are loved without condition. And even in the shadows, God is already preparing the light to guide you forward.