Take the time to write things down. And then take the time to go back and read them.
You'll see everything from a more whole perspective. You'll notice the rhythms, the shift in season, the introduction of doubt or fear, the overwhelming joy of gratitude and praise. You'll see the hopes and predictions you made, sometimes without even knowing it. You'll find that you needed something from the last season to stand firm in this one.
And it won't give you any answers. If anything, rereading who you were and what you felt might just leave you with more questions. More doubt. Was it from God? Or were you just buying into fear?
Maybe we make ourselves ready without even realising it. Maybe the words we write and the thoughts we have and the prayers we prayer are preparing our hearts for something we can't see coming yet.
In February, I was certain that I was exactly where I was supposed to be and for the first time in a long time, I wanted to stay - resting in the moment God had given me. I was hopeful that the things I was giving to Him would be fulfilled. "I feel like He is going to move in a big way and show me a new dynamic that I have never known." And oh, we are only at the beginning of that.
A few days later I would remind myself that it was fear speaking to me in moments of doubt, not God. And fear truly is a liar. God spoke louder, saying "I am bigger and you need it that way." And whether I like it or not in this moment, that is exactly the way it is.
And towards the end of the month I was hopeful. A God kind of hopeful, that filled my soul and told me I was perfectly placed and that there are good things to come. Hopeful and waiting. Drawn to stay. To work. To be patient. To give more grace. Because maybe, just maybe, you'll see Jesus there. Maybe I will too. And in those moments, trust was being built. Trust that the Lord is still moving. This is the in-between. There is beauty here.
If we knew the power of words when we wrote them the first time, would we dare to write them again now that they start to make sense? Because I needed to reread the moments of faith and hopefulness and trust I declared over my life a few months ago. But in accepting that, it also means accepting the invitation for God to move, for God to be bigger than me, to find beauty in the in-between.