29

Fresh Eyes.

That’s the phrase the Lord has continually brought back to me during this season. My circumstances haven’t changed much.

My perspective has.

The Lord has been changing the way I see them. If you had asked me what twenty-nine would look like, I never would have imagined writing this chapter. It has been one of the most humbling and challenging seasons of my life. I’ve cried. I’ve screamed. I’ve sat in silence. There have been days when numbness felt easier than feeling anything at all. I’ve cried out to the Lord, asking Him to bring this season to an end. I’ve pleaded for relief. I’ve begged Him to move. There have even been moments when His silence felt overwhelming. But silence is not absence. He has been here the whole time.

Faithful.

Present.

Providing exactly what I have needed, even when it wasn’t what I had been praying for. If I’m being honest, waiting has exposed parts of my heart I didn’t know were still there. I’ve found myself trying to rush the Lord’s timing, hoping He would speed this season along simply because I was tired of carrying it. Patience is hard. Praying faithfully while heaven feels quiet is hard. Holding onto hope when nothing around you seems to be changing is hard.

Yet in the middle of all of it, one verse continues to find me:

“Let us not grow weary in doing good…”

The Lord continues to remind me, “Don’t grow weary.”

Keep trusting.

Keep believing.

Keep praying.

Keep speaking life over what looks lifeless.

Keep rejoicing before you ever see the answer.

Life is still hard. The difference is that I can now see His faithfulness in the middle of it. Somewhere in the middle of all the waiting, the Lord began giving me fresh eyes.

Fresh eyes to notice His daily provision.

Fresh eyes to recognize His hand in places I had overlooked.

Fresh eyes to appreciate the people He has placed around me.

Fresh eyes to see that even though this season has stretched me, it has also been shaping me.

The circumstances around me may not have changed as quickly as I hoped.

But I have.

Twenty-nine, you feel tired. You feel weary. Some days, you still wonder what the Lord is doing. You don’t have every answer. You’re still waiting. Yet you know your Father more intimately today than you did when this year began. The same God who carried you through surrender, who met you in your grief, who strengthened your faith through fear, is the very same God walking beside you now.

He has not forgotten you.

He has not left you. 

And while I don’t know how this chapter ends just yet, I know the Author.

For today, that is enough.