There will be a season when you have done all you know to do and still, nothing. No answer at the door. No sudden change. No sign in the sky telling you that tomorrow will be kinder. Just you, your unanswered prayer, and the strange silence that makes you question whether God is still listening. He is. Do not mistake silence for absence. Some of God's deepest work happens without making a sound. Roots grow in darkness. Healing happens beneath skin. Morning begins long before the window knows there is light. And somewhere beyond what you can see, your life is being moved by hands you cannot follow. So do not abandon your faith because you cannot trace God's footsteps. You were never promised a clear view. You were given enough light for the next step. Take it. Even if your knees shake. Even if your heart has questions your mouth is afraid to ask. Take it. Faith is not a life without uncertainty. It is waking up with uncertainty beside you and refusing to let it choose your direc...
There is a plant inside my life
That only wakes when rain remembers me.
Its roots know hope by instinct,
they drink quickly,
afraid the sky will change its mind.
But most days,
The desert arrives first.
It stretches across my hours,
cracks my patience open,
teaches thirst in a language
No one wants to learn.
This drought becomes a season—
long, unannounced, unforgiving.
Dreams dry into dust,
words lose their softness,
and even faith walks barefoot
on burning ground.
People suffer quietly here.
Smiles are rationed.
Promises evaporate.
We learn how to survive
on almost nothing
and call it strength.
Then—
rain.
Not loud at first.
Just a whisper on the sand,
a cool truth falling from above.
And the plant rises,
green against all logic,
proving life was never gone,
only waiting.
The desert does not disappear,
But it loosens its grip.
Cracks close a little.
Breath comes easier.
And once again,
We remember:
This season is not forever.
© 2025 Gloria Penelope
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