There’s a certain kind of quiet
that lives in the in-between.
After what’s been planned —
before what makes sense.

It’s not quite peace.
Not quite panic.
Just… waiting.
A stretch of time
where clarity feels far away,
and trust becomes a choice
you keep making in the dark.

That’s where I am right now.

And I don’t have anything polished to say.
No deep revelation.
No strength to spare.
Just this: I’m here.

Still praying.
Still breathing.
Still trusting the One who sees what I can’t.

Because I don’t know what’s next —
but I know who’s holding me.
And sometimes that has to be enough.

So if you’re in the stretch too —
between the ache and the answer,
between the weight and the relief —
you’re not alone.

This space might not feel holy,
but I believe it is.

And even here,
you are still held.