There are moments when I notice a quiet kind of hunger.

Not the kind that needs to be rushed past or immediately filled —
but the kind that asks me to slow down and pay attention.

I’m learning that not every ache needs a distraction.
Not every discomfort needs to be quieted.
Some of it is simply an invitation to listen more closely.

There’s something grounding about letting myself feel that space.
About choosing stillness instead of noise.
Presence instead of autopilot.

In those moments, I’m reminded that my soul needs nourishment too.
That there’s a kind of sustaining that doesn’t come from fullness,
but from dependence.

And when I make room for that —
when I stop rushing to fill every gap —
I find that God meets me there.