This morning, I watched two swallows circling the sky just outside the airfield gate. Not on the runway—just near it. Floating, turning, looping without panic or fear. It stopped me.
It wasn’t lost on me that they were flying in a place so close to danger. Planes take off there. Engines roar there. It’s not a peaceful spot. And yet, they looked so at ease—completely unbothered.
Lately, I’ve been in my own kind of in-between space. I’ve let go of a job, finished a major chapter of school, and am preparing for a big move. Nothing is settled yet. It feels like I’m circling a runway of my own—close to risk, close to uncertainty—but not grounded.
And maybe that’s why those swallows mattered.
They reminded me that I’m not crazy for feeling all this. And more than that—I’m not alone in it. I’ve been praying, asking God for clarity, for guidance, for some kind of confirmation that I’m still moving in the right direction.
And this felt like a response. Not a loud one. But a quiet yes.
Yes, I see you.
Yes, I’m near.
Yes, you’re still held—even here.
I think sometimes we look for answers in big, dramatic ways. But lately, I’ve been learning to pay attention to the small signs. The cricket chirping at the gate. The swallows gliding near the edge. The verses that show up at just the right time. They’re not accidents. They’re invitations.
I’m listening. I’m watching. I know God is speaking.
And more than anything, I want to respond with my life.
Scripture: Psalm 84:3 (KJV) — “Yea, the sparrow hath found an house, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, even thine altars, O Lord of hosts, my King, and my God.”
Prayer: Lord, thank You for speaking in small ways that steady my heart. Help me keep my eyes open and my spirit soft. Even when I feel like I’m flying close to danger, remind me that I’m never out of Your sight. Amen.
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