A Letter to The Season of Becoming

Not every season asks us to push harder. Some ask us to slow down and pay attention to what we’ve been carrying. In this letter, I’m writing about margins, authenticity, and the quiet work of leading and living from a truer place.

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This season of my life isn’t about doing more or becoming something new overnight. It’s about margins. About leaving room — room for me to become, room for God to move, room for things to unfold without my constant management.

For a long time, I lived as if having more options made me safer. More competence. More control. More certainty. More proof that I was doing it “right.” But what I’m learning now is that options can crowd a life just as easily as they can expand it. And this season isn’t asking me to expand. It’s asking me to make space.

Space to listen instead of perform. Space to respond instead of react. Space to be honest about where I am instead of rushing toward where I think I should be.

I’m choosing margins because margins leave room for posture — and posture matters more to me now than performance ever did right now in my life.

There was a time when I led, mothered, loved, and showed up from a place of constant readiness. Ready to explain myself. Ready to adjust. Ready to carry what needed carrying so nothing fell apart. I didn’t always know I was doing it, but I was performing stability more than I was practicing presence. And while that version of me was capable, she was also tired. Not because she was weak — but because she was always bracing.

This season is different. I’m learning how to lead without tightening my grip. How to mother without believing I have to get everything right the first time. How to be a wife who doesn’t confuse strength with self-erasure. I’m allowing myself to get it wrong — and then get it right. To stand strong in what I know while staying open to what I’m still learning.

That shift alone has been freeing.

I’m also dropping the version of myself that felt like she had to be agreeable to be safe. The one who smoothed her edges, softened her convictions, or edited her truth depending on the room. I’m not interested in being performatively confident anymore. I’m more interested in being anchored. Rooted. Honest. I want my life to be led from the inside out, not the other way around.

Margins help me do that. They slow me down enough to notice when I’m acting out of fear instead of faith. They give me space to hear God without rushing past Him in the name of productivity. They allow me to show up as myself — not perfectly, but truthfully.

And here’s what I’m learning: authenticity isn’t loud. It’s steady. It doesn’t demand to be understood by everyone. It just asks to be lived without fear.

So this season, I’m choosing posture over performance. Presence over proving. Becoming over managing outcomes. I’m choosing to be bold where I’m certain, gentle where I’m still growing, and honest about both.

This space — the desk, the writing, the conversations — is coming from there. From margins. From room. From a life that’s no longer built around holding everything together, but around becoming who I already am.

If you’re in a season where you’re craving space too — space to grow, to breathe, to lead and love without pretending — I hope this reminds you that you’re allowed to leave room. You’re allowed to get it wrong and learn forward. You’re allowed to stand strong without hardening yourself.

You don’t need more options. You might just need more room for you…

With love,