Does any of this work actually even matter?

When the year started, I prayed for stability. Between a rough pregnancy and a tricky transition to two kids, I yearned for a steady routine and predictable future.

But in one 30-minute unexpected meeting, that dream popped.

Our future blurred. Grief barged in. My creativity thinned. I needed time to process, space to feel, opportunities to dream.

Three months later and I’m still acclimating to our new reality, which includes a one-off editing job that snowballed into a part-time one.

This is a season of transition. And, I don’t know what is on the other side of these changing tides.

But what I do know is this work–writing, helping you guys write–matters, even in the margins.

This is a long game, and success is more beautiful when it’s hard fought over time.

An oak tree reaches its tallest heights after decades of growth, its roots burrowing deep in the dark ground. If I want my work to matter—really, really matter—then I must be willing to create in the small slivers.

It’s the rich soil for deeper dependence. My patience is growing. My endurance is stretching. My appreciation for grace is widening.

And above all, my worth is not in what I produce. My worth is not in what I produce. And if I can say it one more time, my worth is not in what I produce.

If God has called me to work in the margins, I will go with him gladly. He is my Savior and all that he does towards me is love.

If you’re nodding your head in agreement, let me leave you with this:

He will get you through this too. You will not only develop into a stronger writer, but a more Christlike woman.

This season of our lives may not have met expectations. But, in time, it will be beautiful. More beautiful, more rich, more joyful than we can imagine. Because that’s who our God is.