Sometimes, we get so caught up in chasing what’s next that we forget what got us here. We forget the people who believed in us when we doubted ourselves, the ones who stayed up late helping us study, the mentors who gave us tough love, and the community that kept us grounded when we didn’t have much to stand on. Whether it’s a degree, a promotion, or a little more financial security, those wins can slowly make us forget that success doesn’t mean we’ve “made it”, it means we’ve been entrusted with a little more to give back.
Browsing: Ain’t That A VHIT
There’s something powerful about being anchored. Not just physically, but spiritually, mentally, and emotionally. It’s what has kept our people grounded through generations, when the world shifted, when the winds blew, when the storms of life seemed too heavy to bear. Whether you picture a small ship fighting to stay steady in deep waters, or a palm tree bending but not breaking beneath fierce winds, the message remains timeless: when your roots run deep, you may bend, but you will not break.
To have a renewed mind is to make a daily decision to grow, emotionally, professionally, spiritually, and socially, no matter what life throws your way. It’s choosing not to let your past define your potential, and to believe that change isn’t just possible, it’s necessary.
I’ll be honest, the holidays hit differently in your forties. When I was younger, the season was full of laughter, noise, and the familiar rhythm of family, someone always cooking in the kitchen, kids running through the house, and old-school music playing in the background. Back then, joy came easy. It felt natural.
Patience. Just the word alone can make most of us take a deep breath. In a world of same-day delivery, instant streaming, and quick-turn responses, waiting feels almost foreign. We live in a time where everything is designed for speed, answers, results, even relationships. Yet, spiritually speaking, the moments that shape us most deeply are often the ones where we have no choice but to wait.
There’s something about hearing Kurt Carr’s “For Every Mountain” that still stops me in my tracks, even after all these years. It’s not just a song; it’s a testimony wrapped in melody. Every time the choir belts, “For every mountain You brought me over…” I can’t help but pause, breathe deep, and think about the mountains I’ve had to climb, and, more importantly, the grace that carried me through them.
At 46 years old, I’ve learned that life isn’t just measured by the victories we celebrate; it’s also defined by how we handle the darts that come our way. And truthfully, those darts don’t always come from strangers. Sometimes they come from family and friends. Sometimes they come from co-workers, people in your organization, or even church members, the very places you expect support.
I’ve learned that doors don’t always open the way we expect. Sometimes they’re pushed wide open through blessings and answered prayers. Other times, they creak open after seasons of struggle, doubt, or discomfort. Yet truth be told, there have been times when I stood in front of an open door, hesitant, unsure if I had what it took to walk through.
Not long ago, I was in a conversation with someone, and they said something that stuck with me: “All snakes don’t hiss, they fist bump nowadays.” At first, I laughed. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized they were speaking straight facts.
Have you ever noticed how easy it is to give God the leftovers of your life? The prayers you utter while rushing out the door, the quiet thanks whispered between texts and emails, the small pieces of attention left over after a busy day. We wouldn’t serve guests yesterday’s cold food and call it a meal, so why would we offer God anything less than our best? He deserves the main course of our hearts, fresh, intentional, and overflowing with love.