We’re moving to St. Louis soon.

The boxes are piling up, the rooms are slowly emptying, and yet, the biggest shift isn’t just physical—it’s internal. It’s me. Something is changing in me.

Lately, I’ve felt this quiet, honest prayer rising in my chest:

“Lord, I’m trusting You because I don’t fully know who I’m becoming… but I believe it’s a better, clearer reflection of You.”

It’s not that I feel lost. Actually, I feel like I’ve been growing. Maturing. Stretching. Like a caterpillar who’s spent the last season storing up strength, and now… it’s time.

I’ve become a big, wise, slightly worn-out caterpillar—and I know deep in my spirit that it’s my turn to become something new. To become a butterfly.

What kind of butterfly will I be? I’m not quite sure. But I trust the One doing the shaping.

Have you ever felt that quiet nudge to move forward—before everything made sense?

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The Clues Were Always There

I told God, “I know it’s not important in the grand scheme of things, but I still wish I could know—just a little—what I’m becoming.”

And yet, He keeps meeting me in the not knowing. Teaching me that becoming isn’t always about having answers—it’s about surrender. About allowing the process to do what it was designed to do.

When I think back, though, the signs have been there all along.

As a child, I was always the most talkative in class. The most energetic. The one who couldn’t sit still because I always had something to say or someone to help. I didn’t always know how to channel that energy, but it was never about attention—it was about connection. I wanted to do something, say something, make things better for the people around me.

That never really left me. It just matured.

Do you ever find yourself looking for the “right” answer when maybe what you really need is a faithful next step?

Even my decision to go into HR wasn’t just about a job. It was about wanting to make things clearer for people—especially in moments that feel overwhelming or unfair. I’ve always had this desire to help others understand, navigate, move forward. And when I look at the airport moment through that lens, it doesn’t feel random at all.

A young woman, nervous and overwhelmed, approached me. First time flying. I helped her, walked her through everything. Waited. Gave her a little calm in her chaos. And then other people started asking me for directions—like I just looked like someone who could help. I wasn’t in a uniform. I wasn’t stationed at a desk. I was just… there. A friendly, confident face. A steady presence.

And maybe that’s the clue. Maybe I’m becoming someone who bridges gaps. Someone who helps people through confusing things. Someone who makes transitions feel a little less scary.

Maybe I’ve been doing this all along. Maybe what I’m becoming isn’t some entirely new person—but a deeper, more refined version of who I’ve always quietly been.

The loud kid who loved helping? She grew into a woman who brings clarity where there’s confusion, comfort where there’s overwhelm. She still talks a lot—but now with purpose.

And through all of this—through the move, the uncertainty, the dreams—I’m praying I’m keeping God first.

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From Caterpillar to Clarity

I don’t want to be in the habit of building and then asking God to bless it. I’m praying I remember to start with Him—not just invite Him in after the foundation is poured.

That’s something I’ve been holding onto from a recent sermon:

If it doesn’t begin with God, it’s not guaranteed to stand.

So I’m slowing down before rushing ahead.
I’m asking the hard questions about my vision:

• Is this about more than just me?
• Does this serve others?
• Is there fruit in my past that aligns with where I think I’m going?
• Are my motives pure?
• Do I feel God’s hand shaping this—or am I trying to control it all myself?

I don’t have all the answers. But I am doing my best to put Him first in the pre-steps—the silent preparation, the private prayers, the way I check my own motives before I move.

Because I don’t want to enter a new city, a new role, or a new season with old mindsets or misaligned intentions. I want God in it from the beginning—not as a blessing I request after the fact, but as the Architect from the very start.

Is there something you’ve been afraid to claim, not because it’s untrue—but because it feels too sacred, too big, or too soon?

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Truth I’m Holding Onto

“Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you. Before you were born, I set you apart…”
—Jeremiah 1:5

This becoming isn’t random. It’s remembered. God saw the butterfly long before I even realized I was a caterpillar.

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Where have you been waiting for perfect clarity instead of trusting the next right step?

Is there a place in your life where God has already given you enough to begin?

What I’m Reminding Myself

• • Growth doesn’t always mean clarity. Sometimes it just means surrendering to the cocoon.

• • Your “becoming” might not look like a title—it might look like the way you show up for others.

• • You can be soft and strong at the same time. And your kindness might just be the clue.

• • When you start with God, you don’t need to finish with certainty. You finish with peace.

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Practical Ways to Walk This Out

• Practice a daily 2-minute pause — Ask, “What is God asking me to trust today?” Write or pray your answer out loud.
• Choose one small unfinished thing — a task, post, idea — and finish it without perfecting it.
• Create a “This is who I’m becoming” journal entry — affirm your identity in process, not just your outcomes.
• Set a weekly reminder to reread your favorite paragraph or scripture that grounds your becoming.

If you were to write a sentence that starts, “I think I’m becoming someone who…”—what would it say?

In a season of transition or wrestling with clarity, I’d love to hold space with you. Sit With Me sessions are a gentle starting place to reflect, breathe, and begin again—right where you are. 

Closing Prayer

God, I don’t need a full picture of the butterfly—I just need to know You’re still holding the process.
Thank You for every moment of growth, every quiet stretch of maturity, every unseen transformation.
Help me walk into this new chapter with open hands and expectant hope.
Help me to start with You—not just ask You to bless what I’ve already built.
Test my motives. Refine my plans. Let everything that’s not aligned with You fall away.
I don’t know exactly who I’m becoming. But I trust that it’s good.
And I trust You to finish what You started.

Amen

May you walk gently with the unknown, knowing you are not unseen. Becoming is holy work—and you’re doing it.