Years ago, I was sitting in a church service, trying to sing along with the worship team, when I noticed something interesting.
Some worship leaders seemed to instinctively lead at a pace the congregation could follow. Others weren’t doing anything “wrong,” but the tempo was either so slow that people struggled to stay together or so fast that it became difficult for everyone to participate.
That’s when a simple thought came to me:
A bicycle only stays upright within a certain range of motion.
🐢 Go too slowly, and it starts to wobble until it falls over. 🏎️ Go too fast, and you lose control.
I’ve come to believe that life often works the same way.
Sometimes we lose balance because we’re waiting…planning…researching…thinking…but never taking the next faithful step.
Other times we lose balance because we’ve said yes to too much. We mistake busyness for fruitfulness and outrun our ability to faithfully steward what God has entrusted to us.
The goal isn’t to go as fast as possible.
The goal is to find the pace where faithfulness flourishes.
I’ve also realized something else.
A bicycle doesn’t stay balanced because the rider finds the perfect position and never moves again.
It stays balanced through countless tiny adjustments.
The Christian life is much the same.
We don’t have to execute God’s will perfectly. We simply keep taking the next faithful step, listening to Him, making small course corrections along the way, and trusting that He is able to guide us.
Maybe today isn’t about pedaling harder.
Maybe it’s simply about finding the pace where you can faithfully keep moving forward in the assignment God has given you today.
📆 At the beginning of my health reset and transformation back in 2024 — after all the research I did on menopause and longevity — I decided that lifting weights 3x/week and getting at least 120 grams of protein were going to be two of my personal non-negotiables. 🏋️♀️
But a few months in, I was falling short.
I was consistently lifting 2x/week.
Sometimes 3x… but many weeks, only 2x.
I could have tried harder.
Recommitted.
Or beat myself up for not being “disciplined” enough.
But after decades of those approaches not working for me, I chose a different route.
Instead of simply trying harder, I asked a better question:
🤔 Why was I having such a hard time hitting my weekly lifting goal?
Here’s what I realized.
I was following a plan that had me doing 30 minutes of HIIT on Monday and Tuesday, then lifting on Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturday.
I’d be on track…
And then the wheels just fell off.
🥵 By the end of the week, I was gutted.
One of the issues I had been dealing with in menopause was exhaustion, and I finally acknowledged it instead of continually fighting against it.
So I did something that felt totally uncharacteristic for me as a natural rule-follower.
Instead of following the schedule exactly as written, I adjusted it to fit what I could realistically sustain.
I moved my three most important workouts to the first three days of the week — Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday.
And just like that — voilà. 🗝️
Consistency stopped being a struggle.
I began hitting my lifting goal 3x/week consistently — and I’m still doing it today.
Such a lesson for me.
My old perfectionist self would have had a hard time allowing that. After all, it wasn’t exactly what the program prescribed.
And to be clear, it was a solid, research-based program.
Was lifting three days in a row necessarily the most ideal training schedule possible?
Maybe not.
And it may not be the best arrangement for every person, every body, or every program.
But at that point, with the knowledge and capacity I had, it was the best plan I knew how to follow consistently.
⌚️ For me to be what I call A.I.M. — Appropriate In the Moment — I had to know myself.
At that stage, consistently completing three manageable strength-training sessions mattered more than perfectly following a schedule that repeatedly resulted in me missing the third workout.
🎯 Sometimes you have to know your goal.
Know what matters most.
Know your current season and capacity.
And then prioritize that — even when the solution is not theoretically perfect.
Even when it feels like you are “breaking the rules.”
In this case, consistency mattered more than conformity to a plan.
The plan wasn’t wrong.
I simply needed to apply it with wisdom, humility, and honest self-awareness.
So I’ll ask you this:
👉 Is there an area where you may need to customize what you’re doing so you can consistently do what matters most?
In the future, I may adjust my training schedule again as my capacity, goals, and knowledge change.
But in that season, I knew my one thing — my most important priority — and that was what received my focus and faithfulness.
Have you ever known an area of your life needed attention—but felt unsure where to begin?
Sometimes we make the next step so big that we never take it.
That is where Low-Hanging Fruit comes in.
Low-Hanging Fruit is the smallest meaningful action that moves me in the right direction.
🚫 Not the biggest action. 🚫 Not the most impressive action. 🚫 Not the action I would take if I had unlimited time, energy, money, and capacity.
✅ The faithful action that is actually available to me today.
When the idea for this framework first began taking shape, I wanted to practice it in my own life.
But I did not begin by choosing an action step for every domain. That would have felt like eight more things to do.
My Low-Hanging Fruit was simply this:
🙏 I prayed for wisdom in each of the Eight Domains and asked God to show me where He wanted my attention.
That was it.
I brought my spiritual life, personal growth, physical health, family, professional life, finances, rest, and relationships before Him.
I did not try to fix everything. I did not create a plan for every area. I simply prayed.
That small practice reflected the principle found in Proverbs 3:5–6:
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.”
That was back in 2018.
It was a small action, but it was meaningful—and it became the beginning of a Low-Hanging Fruit habit I still practice today.
What began as one small seed has grown considerably across all Eight Domains. Over time, prayer led to greater clarity, specific action, stronger habits, and meaningful growth.
But it did not begin with a complete plan. It began with one faithful, doable step.
And that is what Low-Hanging Fruit looks like.
It doesn’t end there, but that’s where it starts. With a little seed you plant and then faithfully nourish.
Your Low-Hanging Fruit may look different. The key is that it is specific, meaningful, and doable—something you can complete.
Here are some more examples:
🙏 Spiritual Read one verse and ask God to speak to your heart through it.
🌱 Personal Make your bed upon waking.
🏋🏻♀️ Physical Do twenty squats when you first wake up—or after you make your bed. 😉
🏡 Family Tell your family members you love them when you say good night.
💼 Professional Write down the most important task you need to complete today.
💰 Financial Open your banking app and check your balance.
🔋 Rest & Recharge Set a bedtime reminder on your phone.
🤝 People & Highest Contribution Write down the name of one person you want to pray for today.
None of these actions may look impressive.
But they are doable—and doable matters when we are trying to get started, build consistency, and create momentum.
Low-Hanging Fruit is valuable in every season, but it becomes especially important when capacity is low.
We do not abandon stewardship; we simply adjust the size of the faithful step.
So instead of asking:
❓ “How do I fix my whole life?”
We can ask:
🌿 What is one small, meaningful action I can complete today?
The acorn does not need to become the oak tree today.
Have you ever wanted to be more intentional with your life but felt overwhelmed because you didn’t know where to begin?
🙋🏻♀️ I have.
I am both a box-checker and a squirrel-chaser — which can be an interesting combination.
I can make a list, put my head down, and diligently check the boxes.
But I can also spot a new idea, opportunity, or problem that needs solving and take off after it.
Before I know it, I may be getting a lot done — but I have gotten out of bounds.
One area of my life is receiving nearly all my attention while other things that matter have quietly slipped out of view.
For years, I worked hard to close the gap between where I was and where I wanted to be, but I never seemed able to close it.
It wasn’t because I didn’t care.
It wasn’t because I wasn’t trying.
I didn’t have a clear system for intentional growth and stewardship.
Everything that mattered was swirling around together in one big mental pile:
My relationship with God. My habits and personal growth. My physical health. My family. My work. Our finances. Rest. The people God had called me to love and serve.
All of it mattered.
And that was part of the problem.
When everything feels important at once, it can be hard to recognize what needs attention — and what may be quietly neglected.
In Haggai 1:5, God’s people were told:
“Give careful thought to your ways.”
That verse had a specific context, but the principle still challenges me:
God’s people are called to pay attention to how we are living, what we are prioritizing, and whether we are faithfully stewarding what He has entrusted to us.
And Ephesians 2:10 reminds us why this matters:
“For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.”
I love that verse.
But I also think phrases like “good works” can become so familiar that they almost turn into white noise.
We know they matter.
But we may not always know how to translate them into real life.
What do good works look like on a Wednesday morning?
What does faithfulness look like in this season, in this body, with this family, with these responsibilities, with this capacity, and with this assignment?
The good works God has prepared for us to walk in were never intended to be vague, floating assignments somewhere “out there.”
They show up in the actual life we have been given.
That is one reason I began dividing life into eight domains — not because life fits into neat little boxes, but because these categories help me see where faithfulness and good works may need to be stewarded in real life:
🙏 Spiritual My relationship with God, understanding of my calling, and faithfulness in living it out.
🌱 Personal How I steward myself — my habits, mindsets, emotional health, responsibilities, systems, and growth.
🏋🏻♀️ Physical How I steward my body through my thoughts, eating, movement, sleep, health, and recovery.
🏡 Family My care, presence, and investment in my immediate family.
💼 Professional The work, craft, calling, service, or contribution God has entrusted to me — paid or unpaid.
💰 Financial How I earn, give, spend, save, and steward financial resources.
🪫 Rest & Recharge The rhythms of rest, renewal, and Sabbath that replenish me for my Sacred Mission.
🤝 People & Highest Contribution My relationships with extended family, friends, community, and the people God has entrusted me to love, help, and serve.
This is simply how I have chosen to organize the domains of life.
Other people may divide them differently.
The exact categories are not the most important part.
The important thing is having a framework that helps us step back, examine our whole life, and live intentionally.
Because what we do not intentionally examine is easy to unintentionally neglect.
This is not about perfectly balancing all eight areas or giving each one equal time and energy.
Different seasons require different priorities.
And this is not about turning life into one enormous checklist or trying to earn God’s approval through performance.
Our worth is settled in Christ.
This is about intentional stewardship.
The Eight Domains help me ask:
➡️ Where am I currently investing my attention? ➡️ Has one domain taken me out of bounds? ➡️ Is something important being quietly neglected? ➡️ What is God asking me to prioritize in this season? ➡️ Where are the good works right in front of me? ➡️ Where is love asking for action? ➡️ Where am I being invited to bear good fruit?
The goal is not to manage every area perfectly.
The goal is to see all of life clearly enough to faithfully steward what God has placed in front of us.
Because good works are not just big, impressive, public things.
They may look like:
➡️ Prayer ➡️ Repentance ➡️ Taking care of your body ➡️ Loving your family well ➡️ Doing excellent work ➡️ Managing money wisely ➡️ Resting instead of striving ➡️ Seeing the person right in front of you and choosing love
The Eight Domains take the mystery out of faithfulness by helping me see where stewardship is needed and what low-hanging fruit action I can take today.
The Eight Domains take the mystery out of faithfulness by helping me see where stewardship is needed and what low-hanging fruit action I can take today.
So if you want to be faithful, but you’re not sure where to begin, start by looking at the life God has actually entrusted to you.
Where does stewardship feel unclear?
Where does something need attention?
Where might one small, faithful step begin to move things in the right direction?
That is where the Eight Domains become helpful.
They give us a way to see our whole life — and begin cultivating what God has placed right in front of us. of us.
It’s been fun watching videos of Europeans discovering America during the World Cup.
They’ll come here expecting one thing and end up surprised by something completely different—the wide-open spaces, oversized everything, free refills, Buc-ee’s, ranch dressing, friendly strangers, and yes… our food. 😊
This whole Americana theme, along with the 4th of July just around the corner, got me thinking about some of those simple things that feel uniquely American.
Things like backyard cookouts, baseball games, 4th of July parades, fireworks… and apple pie. 🇺🇸⚾🎆🥧
That reminded me of a little recipe from my teaching days that feels worth passing along.
One day, while a group of fellow teachers and I were having lunch, one of my friends said, “I’ve got the easiest apple pie recipe.”
Naturally, I grabbed a pen and paper.
She said, “Put that away. You don’t need it.”
Then she gave us the recipe, and it went something like this:
Start with a pie crust. Layer it with apples, sugar, cinnamon, flour for thickening, and pats of butter. Then do it again. And again. Keep stacking it as high as you can while still getting the top crust to fit.
She emphasized stacking it as high as you can because the apples cook down as they bake.
Then she added the part I remember most:
“If you think you’ve added too much butter… add more.”
😂
No exact amounts. Just the ingredients and the clear impression that the measurements were more like personal preferences than rules.
So I went home determined to make this pie.
I’d never made an apple pie before.
I followed her instructions—even though I didn’t have a single precise measurement. 😄
I piled those apples so high it looked ridiculous. It wasn’t a pie anymore—it was a mountain with a crust on top.
And that was the point.
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Little recipe note: One thing that’s hard to capture in a written recipe is just how high to stack the apples. If you’re curious, I included an old video below where you can actually see how ridiculously high I pile them. 🍎 It also includes a few little details I didn’t mention here, like brushing the crust with milk before sprinkling sugar on top.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
Then came the tricky part: somehow I got the top crust stretched over the whole thing, cut a few slits in the top, sprinkled it with sugar, and put it in the oven.
About halfway through baking, I realized I’d forgotten to put a pan underneath it.
Butter was bubbling out the sides and dripping all over the bottom of my oven.
But the pie?
Absolutely amazing.
The next day, I told my students the story.
They loved it.
Of course, I’m guessing it wasn’t the story they loved as much as the time it took away from science to tell it. 🤭
And that pie became my apple pie recipe from that day forward.
So in honor of the upcoming 4th of July, I thought I’d share it.
Because sometimes the sweetest traditions start simply:
one friend sharing a recipe, one homemade pie, and a table full of people to share it with.
🇺🇸✨
If you’re a free spirit in the kitchen, feel free to improvise.
But if you like a little more guidance, here’s the closest thing I have to an actual recipe:
All-American Apple Pie
• 2 pie crusts • 10–12 apples, peeled and sliced • 1 heaping cup sugar • Cinnamon • 6 tablespoons flour for thickening • 1 stick butter, cut into pats
Layer everything in the crust.
Then layer it again.
And again.
Pile it as high as you can.
Top with the second crust, cut a few slits, brush with milk, sprinkle with sugar, and bake at 375° for about 70 minutes.
And don’t forget to put a pan underneath it.
Trust me on that one. 😉
I’m sharing this a little early in case you want to plan ahead for the 4th.
🇺🇸✨ Wishing you a sweet and wonderful 4th of July.
You can watch the video here to get an idea of just how high to pile the apples. 👇
As I close out this series on stages and seasons, one thing has become especially clear to me:
Some parts of life are windows. They open for a time, and then they close. We only get one childhood, one particular age, one season of raising little ones, one version of a chapter. And when they are gone, they are gone. Forever.
Other parts of life return again and again.
Throughout our lives, we experience new beginnings, long stretches of steady faithfulness, times of fruitfulness, seasons of loss, and winters when much of what God is doing remains hidden. The circumstances change, but many of the patterns repeat.
The thread running through this entire series has been the importance of being aware of these seasons and patterns so you can be appropriate in the moment.
Appropriate in the moment is the phrase I use for recognizing what this particular stage or season requires—and responding accordingly.
John C. Maxwell calls this the Law of Timing. He says:
⏳ The wrong action at the wrong time leads to disaster. ⏳ The right action at the wrong time brings resistance. ⏳ The wrong action at the right time is a mistake. ⏳ The right action at the right time results in success.
As John puts it, when to act is as important as what to do and where to go.
It is not enough to know what is good. We need wisdom to recognize what is appropriate now.
But as I finish this series, there is one more lesson I do not want to leave out. And if you’ve followed my posts for any amount of time, it probably won’t come as a surprise:
🤠 Get your posse.
We need people beside us through every season—people who cheer us on, celebrate the harvest, offer a shoulder when we are hurting, and remain close when the road becomes difficult—and people we can encourage, strengthen, and help in return.
And sometimes, what we especially need is someone who has already traveled farther down that road.
After I went through what I call my perfect storm, I had a conversation with my former pastor, Rick. He is in that oak-tree, mature stage of life—deeply rooted, steady, and a very humble mentor.
As I told him where I had been and what I was experiencing, he began walking me through the stages of Christian maturity.
My jaw dropped.
It was as though he were reading my mail. He described my life almost to a T.
That was when something clicked for me:
This was a pattern.
While our journeys are deeply personal, they are not entirely unique. We may have different stories, personalities, and circumstances, but we often travel through similar stages, face similar questions, and experience similar patterns of grief, disappointment, confusion, growth, and renewal.
Yet when we are in the middle of something difficult, it can feel as though no one else could possibly understand. Isolation tells us that something must be uniquely wrong with us—that we are the only ones struggling, questioning, grieving, or trying to find our footing.
Then we sit down with someone who has walked a similar road and the light switch comes on.
Pastor Rick helped me see:
You are not alone. This is part of the journey. Keep going.
I remember wishing I had spoken with him sooner.
His wisdom would not have removed the difficulty, but it could have removed so much of the confusion. He could have helped me recognize the terrain, avoid a few landmines, and understand that some of what I was experiencing was normal—not evidence that I had completely lost my way.
That is one of the greatest gifts a mentor can give us.
They cannot walk the road for us, but they can help us understand where we are. They can remind us of what is true when we cannot yet see clearly. And they can help us respond in a way that is appropriate for the moment.
But eventually, this comes full circle.
At some point, we are invited to turn around and offer that same gift to someone coming behind us.
Scripture says that God comforts us in our troubles so that we can comfort others with the comfort we ourselves have received from Him. (2 Corinthians 1:3–4)
Nothing surrendered to God is wasted—not even the difficult seasons.
🧭 Your experience may become someone else’s reassurance. 🌱 Your healing may become someone else’s hope. 🕯️ Your hard-earned wisdom may help someone else navigate the road with less fear and confusion.
So as you move through the stages and seasons of life:
Find someone ahead of you. Walk with people beside you. And turn around for someone behind you.
🤠Get your posse—and become part of someone else’s. 🌿
For those who want to go deeper… 🌳🧭
I created a full-length guide called Match the Guide to the Terrain. This is not a quick read—it is closer to a short book—but it explores this idea in much greater depth.
Inside, we unpack:
the difference between knowledge and seasoned wisdom
why some seasons require someone who has actually walked the road
what may be happening when the old spiritual equations stop working
how God moves us from confidence in outcomes to deeper trust in Him
who to go to for what—therapists, pastors, theologians, seasoned believers, physicians, friends, and other specialists
what to look for in a trustworthy guide
common mistakes we make when seeking counsel
reflection questions and an extensive Scripture study list
For anyone navigating a long, confusing, age-specific, or spiritually complex season—or helping someone who is—this guide is designed to help you recognize the terrain and find the right kind of wisdom for the road.
We want to be present where we are… but we also want to have hope and expectation for what’s ahead.
So which is it?
👉 Do we enjoy the moment? 👉 Or do we prepare for what’s next?
I think the answer is both.
Because life is seasonal.
“To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.” —Ecclesiastes 3:1 (NKJV)
Every season has a purpose.
And wisdom is learning how to live appropriately in the moment we’re actually in.
Not the moment we wish we were in. Not the moment we’re afraid is coming. Not the moment we keep replaying from the past.
This one. Right here.
“…a wise heart will know the proper time and the right procedure.” —Ecclesiastes 8:5 (AMPC)
That verse points out that wisdom isn’t just knowing what to do.
It’s knowing when to do it.
👉 When to plant. 👉 When to wait. 👉 When to build. 👉 When to rest. 👉 When to celebrate. 👉 When to release. 👉 When to trust.
And that, to me, is part of the true art of living:
👉 Be appropriate in the moment.
Because when we confuse the seasons, we can start working against grace.
We rush what needs time. We cling to what needs released. We resist what God is using. We panic in winter. We quit in summer. We forget to celebrate in fall. We try to harvest in spring before roots have had time to grow.
And just being transparent… I have done all of the above. 🙋♀️
But here’s the simple reset I keep coming back to:
👉 Be where you are while becoming who you’re called to be.
Being present does not mean you have no vision. And having expectation for the future does not mean you despise where you are.
You can enjoy today… and still believe God is doing more.
But especially when life is hard, staying present takes practice. And I have found that one of the best ways to practice being present is gratitude. 💛
Gratitude anchors me. It steadies my perspective.
It helps me notice the goodness of God in this moment instead of rushing past the life right in front of me with all its richness and blessings.
Because this season won’t last forever.
That means:
👉 You don’t have to cling to it. 👉 You don’t have to rush it. 👉 You don’t have to resist it.
You can walk with God in it.
🌸 Spring — Start Well ➡️ Plant intentionally ➡️ Don’t rush ➡️ Focus on what matters most
☀️ Summer — Stay Faithful ➡️ Keep showing up ➡️ Be faithful in the process ➡️ Endure
🍂 Fall — Respond Wisely ➡️ Celebrate what’s good ➡️ Learn from what’s not ➡️ Adjust without shame
❄️ Winter — Trust Deeply ➡️ Don’t panic ➡️ Lean into God ➡️ Receive the deeper work
The goal isn’t just to hurry into the next season. The goal is to walk with God in this one.
So instead of rushing ahead… or resisting where you are…
🌿 Enjoy where you are while becoming who you’re called to be.
I’ll be transparent—winter has never been my favorite.
Growing up in South Dakota, winter could feel like it went on… and on… and on.
The cold. The gray. The waiting.
And sometimes life feels that way too.
Not the cozy winter with the fire, blanket, and warm drink.
I’m talking about the winter seasons of life.
The kind where everything seems to hit at once. The kind where you’re tired before the day begins. The kind where you keep asking:
👉 God, where are You? 👉 What are You doing? 👉 Why is this taking so long? 👉 Is anything growing here?
And maybe the hardest one:
👉 Why does it feel like You are silent?
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
Winter can feel disorienting.
It can feel like nothing is happening. It can feel like the prayers are hitting the ceiling. It can feel like the old ways you heard God, sensed God, or understood life suddenly don’t feel the same.
And that can be painful. But Scripture never tells us trouble won’t come. Jesus said:
“In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” —John 16:33 (NIV)
So when winter comes, we don’t have to assume God has left us.
Winter is not proof we are forgotten. Winter is part of life in a fallen world.
But it is also a place where God can do deep redemptive work.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
C.S. Lewis wrote that God whispers to us in our pleasures, but shouts in our pains.
And I think that is often true.
Pain gets our attention. It slows us down. It exposes what was hidden. It shows us where we were leaning on control, clarity, comfort, or outcomes.
But I also want to say this carefully:
Sometimes winter does not feel like God is shouting. Sometimes winter feels like God is silent.
And that does not mean He is absent.
It may mean the work is happening deeper than our emotions can measure.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
James tells us that trials test our faith and produce perseverance.
Romans tells us that suffering can produce perseverance, character, and hope.
Not because pain is good. Not because suffering is easy. Not because we pretend hard things don’t hurt.
But because God is able to form something in us through what we would never have chosen.
Winter can produce things summer never could.
Humility. Depth. Compassion. Perspective. Endurance. Dependence on God.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
And this is why our mindset about winter matters.
If we believe winter is wasted, we may panic. If we believe winter means God is absent, we may despair. If we believe winter is only something to escape, we may miss what God is forming.
But if we understand that winter is part of life…
and that God can work even when we cannot see it…
then we can become less panicked and more faithful.
We can ask:
👉 What does this season require? 👉 What needs to be protected? 👉 What needs to be released? 👉 What is the next faithful step?
That’s wisdom.
That’s AIM:
Appropriate in the Moment.
Not forcing spring in the middle of winter. Not pretending winter doesn’t hurt.
But learning to respond faithfully in the season we are actually in.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
Romans 8:28 says:
“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him.” —Romans 8:28 (NIV)
That does not mean all things are good.
They are not.
Some things are painful. Some things are confusing. Some things are unjust. Some things are heartbreaking.
But God is able to work in all things.
He can redeem what we would never have chosen.
He can bring humility from pain. Compassion from suffering. Wisdom from confusion. Depth from loss. Ministry from wounds He has healed.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
After we have walked through winter, we often carry something we could not have carried before.
We become more tender with people. More patient with process. More compassionate toward those who are disoriented. More aware that life is not always simple.
And maybe, after winter, we become the kind of person who can sit with someone else in their pain without rushing them, fixing them, or throwing clichés at them.
We can simply say:
“I know this is hard. I know this feels dark. But you are not alone. And winter is not wasted.”
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
❄️ Final Thought
Life is not linear.
It is seasonal.
And wisdom is learning:
➡️ what season you’re in ➡️ what that season requires ➡️ how to respond faithfully ➡️ where God is inviting trust
Winter can be painful. Winter can feel long. Winter can feel quiet.
But winter is not the end.
Spring does come. And even before it does… God is still God.
He is still present. He is still faithful.
And He is still able to redeem what winter has buried.
