I wrote in the last post about whether this blog might be something more—something God is inviting me to build. I talked about signs, calling, and that tension between stepping out and standing still.

And I meant it. I still do.

But now, just a few days later, I find myself here again—praying the same prayer. Not out of routine. Out of need. Remember Gideon? Yeah, I get it now.

Daily I Watch Milo

Milo—my one-year-old—tries to do everything by himself these days.

He’ll grab his shirt and attempt to force it over his head. Then the shoes—never on the right feet. Then comes the toast. He’ll take a spoon, not a butter knife, and try to spread it like he’s a grown man making breakfast for the family.

And the whole time, with this confident little voice, he says:
“I can do it. I can do it.”

And I just watch. I want to jump in. I want to say, “My guy… you’re so small. Let me help.”

But I resist. I wait. I offer gentle help, not takeover. Because I want him to feel capable. I want him to try. I want him to know he’s not alone.

And then—of course—I see myself.

I do the exact same thing with God. I tell Him, “I’ve got this.” I try to figure it all out. I pretend I’ve already matured past this same question, this same prayer. And then I hit a wall. And fall apart. And whisper:

“Can You just help me again?”
“Can You tell me what to do—just a bit more?”
“Where should my feet go?”

Have you ever seen yourself in someone else’s struggle—and realized God might be watching you the same way?

He Knows Me Better Than I Know Myself

And I know—deep down—that God feels toward me the way I feel toward Milo. But more. Infinitely more.

More than a hundred timesfold.

(Don’t ask me to count the hairs on Milo’s head. God could. I can’t.)

He sees me struggling with the same prayer, the same decision, the same doubt—and He doesn’t roll His eyes. He just waits. Holds space. Offers gentle help.

Not because I’m getting it right. But because I keep coming back.

What’s something you keep praying for that makes you feel small? What if that’s not immaturity—but faith?

I used to think I had to graduate past certain struggles. That I had to stop circling the same questions if I was going to call myself faithful.

But I’m realizing now—faith isn’t never asking twice. Faith is asking again. Still showing up. Still reaching up with tired arms saying, “Can You hold me now?”

I haven’t outgrown my need for God. I’ve just become more aware of it.

And if that’s what this season is for—becoming more honest about how much I still need to be led—then maybe that’s not weakness.

Maybe that’s growth.

What if the places where you still feel needy are actually the places God meets you most tenderly?

Rooted Reflection

Where in your life are you still asking God for help—even after you thought you’d already “grown past” that need?

What would shift if you saw your questions not as setbacks, but as signs of trust?

Ways to Walk This Out

• Start a “Still Asking” list. Write down the prayers you keep coming back to—not to track progress, but to honor your faithfulness in returning.
• Pray like a child. Set a timer for 2 minutes. Whisper your questions simply. Don’t fix them—just say them.
• Reframe repetition as relationship. Each time you ask again, say, “God, I trust You enough to ask again.”

Closing Prayer

Lord,
Thank You for waiting while I try.
Thank You for helping even when I say, “I’ve got it.”
I don’t. Not really.
But You’ve got me. And that’s enough.
Can You help me again?
Can You tell me what to do—just a bit more?
Where should my feet go?
Amen.

If you’re in a season where you keep circling the same question, I want you to know—you’re not behind. You’re being honest. If you’re craving clarity or simply need space to ask again, I’d love to walk with you. Sit With Me sessions are a gentle place to do just that—no pressure to fix, just permission to be held.

May you never outgrow your need for God. And may you always be bold enough to ask again.