Stepping Into What God Has Next

This painting is called Stepping Into What God Has Next. It began as an image in my heart before it ever became brushstrokes, a quiet arbor path in winter, a wooden walkway covered in snow, sturdy beams overhead, and a soft light ahead that isn’t quite clear. It feels like a threshold. A place between what was and what will be. A place where I stand still before I take the next step. This is where I am right now. At the edge of a year that has worn me down in ways I don’t even know how to put into words — caregiving, grief, exhaustion, fear, loneliness, disappointment, routines uprooted, days that felt like battlefields, holidays that felt like echoes. A year of trying to survive what never seems to stop coming. And now, here I am: Not fully ready to step into the next year. Not excited. Not brave. Just… here. It doesn’t feel like a leap. It feels like a slow exhale. A shaky hand on the railing. A whispered prayer under my breath. I’m not stepping forward with confidence. I’m stepping with dependence.

This painting looks like winter, but to me, it feels like a doorway. The snow shows the path, but it also hides it. The beams are strong, but the future is not visible. There is beauty, but also uncertainty. There is stillness, and a quiet invitation. It’s a place where God does not say, “Don’t be afraid.” Instead, I sense Him saying: “I know you are. Come anyway.”

Maybe stepping into what God has next isn’t about assurance. Maybe it’s about allowing Him to steady me while I take the next step. Like the Shepherd who walks in front. Like the God who stays beside us. Like the One who hems us in — behind and before (Psalm 139:5).

My Word for the Year 2026 is, Established

Every year I choose a word to hold,  not as a resolution, but as a reminder. This year, the word that keeps whispering in my soul is: Established. Not because I feel established. But because everything in my life feels like the opposite of that word. I’m choosing Established not as a declaration of where I am, but as an act of faith about what God can do within me. Established when the ground still feels unstable. Established when fear tells me I am hanging by a thread. Established when finances, future, and footing feel fragile. Established when grief is still shaping me. This is not me declaring victory. This is me asking God to root me anyway. To establish: my footsteps (Psalm 40:2) my heart (Psalm 112:7-8) my faith, even when it’s wounded (1 Peter 5:10) the work of my hands and the work of my life (Psalm 90:17)

I am not established because I feel secure. I am established because He is. If He is the foundation, then even trembling steps can land on solid ground. And part of this word — Established — reaches into my work as well. My painting, my writing, the ministry of Mercy in the Mourning… these are not hobbies to me. They are my calling, my heartbeat, and the place where I am praying provision will rise from purpose. This past year, survival took center stage, once again. Now, I need something to grow. I need my work to carry me — not just emotionally, but practically and financially. I need to build something that can help sustain my life, provide for my needs, and support the responsibilities God has asked me to hold. And that is terrifying to say out loud. I don’t feel confident. I don’t feel prepared. I don’t feel successful. But “established” doesn’t wait for feelings. It asks for faith in motion. This year, I’m praying that God will: establish the foundations of my business, establish stability where there has only been uncertainty, establish opportunities that align with His purpose and establish the work of my hands in a way that honors Jeff’s memory and glorifies God.

I’m not praying for fame or fortune, I’m praying for sustainability. For provision. For the ability to breathe again without fear of the bottom falling out. To wake up and know that what I create can help carry me. To trust that God can open doors even in the wilderness. To believe that the gifts He placed in me were not given just to sit in the dark. I don’t feel “established” yet. But I am daring to believe that God can establish me as I go. Stepping Forward (Even If Slowly) I don’t know what this year will hold. I don’t know what will change or what will stay the same. I don’t know what will heal or what will continue to hurt. But I do know this: If God has brought me to this threshold, He will be present on the other side of it. I’m  asking Him to take this year — in all its unfinished pieces — and build something that can bear weight again. Not perfect. Not polished. Just possible. Because if Christ can enter the world through a stable, if redemption can walk roads of dust, if resurrection can come after loss, then surely… surely God can meet me on this snowy path. Surely He can establish what I cannot.

Jesus, I am here — in between. Between what I have lost and what I have not yet found. Between who I was and who I am becoming. Between familiar pain and unfamiliar hope. Steady me. Establish me. Go before me on the road I cannot see. Place my feet on the boards You have laid. Strengthen my hands for the work ahead. Meet me in my fear and make it fertile ground for faith. If I can’t run, let me walk. If I can’t walk, hold me. If I can’t speak, hear my heart. Be in every step. Be in every breath. Be in whatever comes next. Establish me — not because I am ready, but because You are. Amen.

“He set my feet upon a rock and established my steps.”
— Psalm 40:2

“Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us, and establish the work of our hands for us.”
— Psalm 90:17

“The God of all grace… will Himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.”
— 1 Peter 5:10

“Commit your work to the Lord, and your plans will be established.”
— Proverbs 16:3