Full, Yet Humble: Holding the Weight and Wonder of This Season
Feb 05, 2026
2026 has barely begun, and already my heart feels full in ways I once couldn’t imagine.
Not long ago, we celebrated my oldest daughter’s wedding-a moment layered with joy, release, and the recognition that life was shifting. And now, almost before the dust has settled, my oldest son is engaged. Two milestones. Two reminders that time does not slow, even when we wish it would.
This season feels full-overflowing, even. And yet, the two words I keep returning to are humble and grateful.
Because this wasn’t always the story.
There were years when my children were younger, and my world felt much smaller, not because my love was small, but because anxiety was so large. Severe anxiety had a way of shrinking my vision, my confidence, and my hope. There were days when simply getting up and making my bed felt like the only victory. There were seasons where challenges felt never-ending, and imagining a future marked by peace or fullness felt almost impossible.
I couldn’t see this version of life then. I couldn’t picture wedding days, engagements, college graduations, or the deep exhale that comes with watching your children step into who they’re becoming. Back then, the prayer wasn’t for abundance; it was for survival.
And yet, here I am.
What I’m learning, slowly and gratefully, is that fullness doesn’t erase the memory of barren seasons. It’s actually because of them that this season feels so special. I’m only able to experience the richness of now because I’ve known the ache of then. The waiting. The uncertainty. The exhaustion that comes when you wonder if relief will ever arrive.
But God has been faithful in both.
When seasons feel depleting and unclear, it’s easy to believe they are permanent. But God’s truth gently reminds us: this, too, shall pass. Not as a dismissal of pain, but as a promise of movement. Of growth. Of redemption. Every season, no matter how heavy, has an end, and often, a quiet purpose we don’t recognize until much later.
What I’ve also learned is that every season brings its own joys. They don’t always announce themselves loudly like big events. Sometimes they arrive disguised as small mercies, deep breaths, or unexpected moments of clarity. Yet, we have to be ready for them, open-handed and attentive, so we don’t miss what God is doing right in front of us.
This season I’m living now is full, yes. But it’s also tender. It calls for humility, because none of it was earned or guaranteed. And it calls for gratitude, because I know what it’s like to live without the certainty that joy would return.
If you’re walking through a season that feels barren, exhausting, or uncertain, I want you to know this: God sees you, He is faithful, and the story is not finished. Appreciate the season you’re in, not because it’s easy, but because it is shaping you for what’s coming.
Fullness will come. And when it does, you’ll recognize it, not because everything will be perfect, but because you’ve learned how to hold joy with reverence, humility, and a grateful heart.
