Sacred Sunday | A Quiet Opening

May I Trust the Mysterious Unfolding of Life

As the year begins to wind down, something in me feels settled in a way I didn’t expect.

There’s a steady gratitude beneath everything ̶ not loud, not dramatic ̶ just a simple appreciation for what’s here, for what stayed, for what grew in its own quiet way.

At the same time, there’s a gentle hum inside me.

Ideas arriving unannounced.

New possibilities forming at the edges of my awareness.

A kind of inner widening that feels both exciting and a little tender.

It isn’t about ambition.

It isn’t about reinvention.

It’s more like recognizing that life is opening a door, and I can feel the shift in the air before I see the view.

I’m not trying to force meaning from the year that’s ending.

I’m not trying to predict the one ahead.

I’m just noticing how both can exist at once ̶ the contentment with what is, and the quiet curiosity about what might be.

There’s a softness in that.

A humility, even.

The sense that I don’t have to push anything forward; I just have to stay awake enough to respond when the moment arrives.

So I’m letting myself rest in that in-between place: grateful for the life I have,

open to whatever is unfolding next, and trusting that I’ll meet it with the same grounded heart that carried me here.

The year is ending, yes.

But something in me feels like it’s just beginning ̶ and I’m letting that be enough.