Blog 36: A New Era

The Promise of Better

A new era is here. The promise of better has arrived, not in grand gestures or sudden breakthroughs, but through quiet, steady steps. The kind that often go unnoticed but always count.

When I look back, I see that every small effort, every hesitant leap, every tear, and every prayer brought me here. Growth rarely feels like progress while you’re in it. It’s slow, messy, and filled with moments that test your faith in yourself and in God. But today, standing here, I can say this with peace in my heart — I’m happy to be here.

To be present in my own journey.
To witness my evolution.
To know that I dared to step beyond the safety of my comfort zone.

The Gift of Believing

There’s a certain magic in believing in yourself, not in a loud, boastful way, but in the quiet knowing that you can. I’ve done things I once thought were impossible for me. I’ve chased dreams I didn’t feel worthy of and learned that the act of believing is, in itself, a reward.

Faith in yourself isn’t something that arrives fully formed. It’s something you build, one brick at a time, through showing up, failing, resting, and trying again. And when you finally start to see the structure of who you’re becoming, it’s breathtaking.

I love progress. But even more, I’ve learned to love the seasons where everything felt still , the moments that looked like stagnation but were actually sacred preparation.

The Lessons in Stillness

Those quiet, uncertain days were never wasted. In hindsight, they were the soil in which resilience took root.

Stagnation taught me that time can be useful, even when it doesn’t look like it. Sometimes, God slows us down not to punish us but to prepare us. In the darkest seasons, the ones that make us question our purpose and pace, God strips away the unnecessary.

He removes the excess, the dead weight we’ve been carrying — old beliefs that no longer serve us, relationships that drained us, identities we outgrew but still tried to wear like they fit.

And yes, it hurts. It feels like loss. But later, when the dust settles, we begin to see that what looked like destruction was actually divine renewal.

The Stripping and the Revealing

When God strips away, He also reveals. He shows you who you are without the noise. He teaches you to trust your own stillness, to love your own company, and to find joy not just in the outcomes but in the process itself.

The people who left, the plans that failed, the prayers that seemed unanswered — they were all part of the unlearning. And through that unlearning, I discovered the beauty of surrender.

I stopped forcing timelines.
I stopped rushing my healing.
I stopped begging to be understood.

And that’s when peace began to rise in me like a slow sunrise, gentle, certain, and full of promise.

The Aftermath: A Leaping Soul

Now, in the aftermath of it all, I stand softer but stronger.
I am more peaceful, more assured, more me.

This version of me leaps, not because she’s fearless, but because she knows faith will catch her.
She walks slower now, but with more purpose.
She listens deeper, to her heart, to her spirit, and to God’s quiet guidance.

This new era feels sacred. It feels intentional. It feels like a homecoming to myself.

So here’s to the journey that bruised us, broke us, taught us, and built us.
Here’s to the darkness that revealed the light.
And here’s to the woman who finally stopped doubting the process and started trusting the unfolding.

Amen. 🌿