I spent a lot of years looking for God in the places I expected Him to be. In answered prayers. Open doors. Big moments. The kind of stories that sound like testimony when you tell them later. But somewhere along the way, I started realizing how much of Him I had almost missed.

Not because He wasn’t there. Because I wasn’t always looking.

I was waiting for the extraordinary while God was moving in the ordinary.

And strangely enough, I did not learn this by slowing my life down enough to suddenly become really good at noticing God. If anything, He taught me in the middle of a life that was already full. He was there in motherhood and marriage. In the drive to work. In conversations I may never fully understand the significance of. He was there in leadership decisions that felt practical, not spiritual. In showing up when I was tired. In serving when no one was watching. In writing words I wasn’t sure anyone needed to read. In the prayers I prayed and the ones I struggled to find words for.

So much of it just felt like life. Until I started looking backward.

That is where I began to see it. The things I thought were small had not been small at all. A conversation had become encouragement someone needed at exactly the right time. A simple yes had led to another yes. An act of obedience that felt insignificant had opened a door I never knew existed. Words I wrote because I felt prompted to write them began reaching people I never expected to reach.

There were fingerprints of God’s faithfulness all over places I had once called ordinary. Looking forward, I couldn’t always see what He was doing. Looking backward, His presence was everywhere.

And the more I looked, the more I realized something else. I had spent so much time wondering what God was calling me to, when so often He was asking me to be faithful where I already was.

That changed something in me because calling suddenly stopped looking like a destination I needed to find. Sometimes calling looked like the person standing in front of me. Sometimes it looked like doing my work well. Sometimes it looked like encouraging someone when I felt the prompting and could have easily talked myself out of it. Sometimes it looked like writing the thing. Sometimes it looked like serving. Sometimes it looked like showing up again. And sometimes it was simply saying yes to God without knowing what He intended to do with the yes.

I think that may be one of the greatest surprises of my faith.

I kept expecting God to show me the big picture. Instead, He kept giving me the next ordinary thing.

And somehow, those ordinary things began leading somewhere I could never have orchestrated for myself. What started as obedience in small spaces became conversations. Community. Opportunities to encourage people. Places to serve. Words reaching people I had never met. Doors I wasn’t knocking on because I didn’t even know they existed.

But somewhere in all of that, God began revealing something else to me.

He gave me words.

For a long time, I think I treated words as something I simply had. Something I used to encourage people, process what God was teaching me, lead, pray, or occasionally share when I felt prompted. But God has been showing me that my words are not something I am supposed to keep tucked away until I think they are important enough to share.

They are part of the gift He has entrusted to me.

And that realization has both humbled me and lit something inside of me.

I want to write.

I want to tell the stories of where I have seen Him. I want to put language around the things God teaches us in places that don’t always look spiritual. I want to share the moments when His presence becomes unmistakable and the moments when I only recognize Him after looking back.

I want to share words that encourage. Words that reveal. Words that help someone see what they could not see before. Words that remind someone who is tired that God has not left the room. Words that bring hope into places that have felt hopeless. Words that help heal what has been hurting. Words that point people toward Jesus.

Not because my words are powerful on their own.

Because His presence is.

And if God can use something He has placed inside of me to help someone recognize something about Him, then I want to give it back to Him freely.

That is what excites me about this.

I don’t know exactly what this will become. I don’t know how far these words will travel or who will eventually read them. And for perhaps the first time, I don’t think I need to know.

I just know I am supposed to share them.

And now, somehow, all those ordinary yeses have led here.

To a website I never planned to build. To words I never imagined people would ask to read. To a space that exists because God kept showing me that ministry does not only happen behind a microphone, inside a church, or in the moments we recognize as spiritual.

It happens in offices. In kitchens. In cars. In text messages. In hard conversations. In raising children. In loving people. In leadership. In waiting. In ordinary Tuesdays.

And maybe this is part of my yes.

To write about those places. To share what God reveals there. To tell the stories of His presence in my everyday life so that maybe someone else begins looking for Him in theirs.

Ordinary Life. Extraordinary Purpose.

That is why this space exists.

Not because I have figured out how to find God in everything. I haven’t. I am still learning to look.

I am learning to look backward and recognize His fingerprints in places I once called uncertainty. To look around and notice the grace I might otherwise rush past. To pay attention when the Holy Spirit nudges me toward something that seems too small to matter. And maybe most importantly, I am learning not to despise the ordinary simply because I cannot yet see what God is doing with it.

Because I know now what I didn’t always know then.

The conversation might matter. The prompting might matter. The person in front of me might matter. The thing God keeps asking me to do might matter.

The ordinary yes might matter far more than I can see from where I am standing.

So this is mine.

My yes to write. My yes to share. My yes to tell the stories of what God is doing in the places we might otherwise pass right by.

If something written here encourages someone, reveals something they needed to see, helps something heal, strengthens someone’s faith, or simply causes one person to stop in the middle of an ordinary day and realize, God is here too, then these words have done what I pray they will do.

Not for my name. Not for a platform. For His glory.

So, this is me learning to pay attention. And maybe you will learn to look with me. Maybe my testimony will help you see.

Because I have a feeling there is a whole lot of grace waiting to be noticed.