Common grace is the sun and rain that fall over the whole neighborhood.Some gardens are cared for. Some are neglected. But the sky still gives, light still comes, rain still falls. That’s God’s goodness spread wide. Sustaining grace is the soil that holds the roots. When the wind kicks up and the heat dries things out, the soil keeps the plant anchored. It keeps it from tipping over. That’s God holding you steady when life shakes you. Enabling grace is the sap rising inside the plant. It's the hidden strength that helps it to grow, bloom, and bear fruit. You can’t see sap working, but you can see the results: new leaves, stronger stems, fruit that wasn’t there before. That’s God empowering you to live differently from the inside out. Same garden. Same God.  It's grace over you, grace under you, grace within you. His Grace is good to all, strong for you, and working through you. This week try to live with a “grace awareness”.  Receive common grace with gratitude. Stop calling mercy “normal.” Name it. Thank God for breath, provision, protection, and those  little joys. Lean on sustaining grace when you feel weak. Instead of pretending you’re fine, pray honestly: “Lord, hold me up. Be my strength today.” Don't be afraid to ask for enabling grace before the moment tests you. Pray ahead of time: “Lord, enable my patience. Enable my discipline. Enable my forgiveness. Enable my mouth.” Grace isn’t only what forgives you. Grace is what keeps you and helps you.

That part got me: the miracle met the empty space. So I decided to treat my closet like a vessel. I didn’t start with everything. I started with one section, one row of hangers and I asked God to sit with me in it. I held up pieces that no longer fit my body or my season. Things I kept out of “just in case.” Clothes I kept because they were expensive. Items I kept because I didn’t want to feel wasteful. And a few things I realized I kept because I wasn’t ready to admit I’ve grown. And right there, in something as simple as a closet, God reminded me: growth requires release. A crowded closet is like a crowded heart. You can close the door and pretend it’s fine, but eventually you open it and everything falls forward. Decluttering is choosing not to live like that but choosing peace on purpose. Because sometimes the blessing isn’t more clothes or more stuff.  Sometimes the blessing is: breathing room, a clearer mind, a calmer morning, a space that matches the woman you’re becoming. This week I learned that order can be worship. Letting go can be faith and an open shelf can be an invitation for God to fill my life with what actually fits. What am I holding onto that no longer fits who God is shaping me to be? What space can I make this week—so God can pour fresh oil into my life? This week, don’t try to fix everything. Just clear one shelf. One drawer. One corner and let that small act be your way of saying, “God, I’m ready for what’s next.” Prayer: Lord, thank You for meeting me in ordinary places. Today I invite You into my closet and into every crowded place in my heart. Give me courage to release what I’m clinging to out of fear, guilt, or old identity. Help me let go with gratitude and keep what supports the season You’ve called me into. As I clear this space, clear my mind. As I create room, pour fresh oil, peace, clarity, confidence, and joy into me. I’m making room for Your blessing. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

This week has been quieter in my spirit—focused, pensive… the kind of week where you can be surrounded by holiday cheer and still feel the weight of what’s ahead. In the middle of festivities, I’m also standing at the doorway of new beginnings: a new year, new challenges, fresh goals, and a desire to live with more intention.

This holiday season, the house wasn’t just full—it was woven together. Under one roof, you watched love take shape in ordinary things:  little feet racing down the hallway, bursts of laughter spilling from room to room, coats tossed over chairs, and the warm rhythm of family moving like one big heartbeat. The kitchen carried the comfort of clinking dishes, the smell of something sweet in the oven, The young women taking over the kitchen with laughter and teamwork, as they took over the space like they were born to hold it. The low hum of men talking, encouraging, and gathering the younger men close—like quiet strength passing from one generation to the next. Men gathering in a way that covered and coached.