When the Seasons Shift
“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens” (Ecclesiastes 3:1).
Just as nature moves from winter to spring and summer to autumn, our lives also pass through changing seasons. Some seasons are filled with growth and joy, while others bring waiting, loss, or uncertainty. Recognizing change begins with accepting that no season lasts forever.
We can often tell a new season is beginning when God shifts our priorities, closes familiar doors, or gives us a fresh desire to move forward. Rather than resisting these moments, we can seek Him through prayer and Scripture. Like the sons of Issachar, who “understood the times and knew what Israel should do” (1 Chronicles 12:32), we need spiritual wisdom to respond faithfully to what God is doing.
When seasons change, God’s character remains constant. He is present in every beginning, ending, harvest, and period of waiting. Our task is not to control the season but to trust the One who governs it. By staying attentive to God’s leading, we can release what has passed and step with faith into what comes next.
My prayer for you this week is that you remain discerning and no season should pass you. Let this be so and so it is in Jesus’ name. AMEN!
Xoxo,
Lady Abena.
Open-Hearted Strength
Lately I’ve been wearing my heart on my sleeve. My feelings show up in my words, my choices, and how I treat people. It hasn’t always felt safe, there were times I think I was undermined because I was honest. But I’ve realized openness isn’t a weakness. It’s a way to see clearly what fits and what doesn’t.
Being open doesn’t make me naïve. It makes me aware. I know what I’m feeling, I notice the energy in the room, and I don’t trade my values for approval. That’s not softness, it’s strength I’ve earned. When something starts to threaten my peace, I can pause, set a boundary, or walk away before it drains me.
If my honesty makes some people uncomfortable, that’s information, not a command to shrink. I’ll keep choosing real over performative calm, compassion over numbness, and boundaries over burnout. My heart on my sleeve isn’t an invitation to underestimate me, it’s proof that I’m awake. From here, I protect my mental health, guard my growth, and move with quiet power.
Xoxo,
Lady Abena.
God-Taught, Built Different
I grew up an only child, learning early how to keep myself company and keep my spirit steady. At ten years old, I left for boarding school, a small steel case we called “trunk” in those days - and a big silence. When the lights went out at bedtime, I talked to God like He was the only one who truly knew me. In that mix of solitude and structure, He became my constant. Those years taught me how to listen inward, to self-correct, and to stand on my own two feet without hardening my heart.
I also learned fast that not every smile is safe. I’ve met betrayals both loud and quiet, envy disguised as concern, shifting loyalties, secrets traded like currency. Even the ones I called friends sometimes carried a subtle edge. I kept extending myself, hoping consistency would build trust, but life taught me the hard distinction between access and intimacy, proximity and loyalty.
I’m built different now. Not bitter but clear. I can be kind without shrinking, generous without paying with my peace. The fires I walked through didn’t consume me; they refined me. They burned off my need to be chosen by people who never planned to stay and left me with a truer core, a steadier voice, and a felt sense of what safety really is.
This season is layered, beginnings and endings sharing the same calendar, joy and grief talking to each other. In the midst of it, I asked God to help me discern the hearts of the people I call friends. He answered in unmistakable ways: quiet checks in my spirit, patterns I can finally see clearly, confirmations that arrive right when I start to doubt.
Some truths sting, but they’re liberating. I see who shows up unprompted, who celebrates without competing, who can hold my victories and my vulnerability without reaching for the spotlight. I also see where I overextended, confusing loyalty with self-abandonment. That chapter is closed.
Here’s where I stand: I trust what God is showing me, and I trust the wisdom He’s grown in me, from only-child quiet to dorm-room prayers to now. I won’t argue with unease. I will name what needs naming, confront what doesn’t feel right, and set the boundaries that protect my peace. I choose clarity over comfort, courage over compliance, and alignment over approval. With God as my guide, I’m ready and I will act.
Xoxo,
Lady Abena.