Before the sun is even up, I’m fumbling for the alarm with one hand and my Nespresso pod with the other. It’s not that I dislike this routine; the pod, the frother, the fast gratification but I do miss the days when the scent of coffee down the hallway pulled me into the morning like a warm invitation. Still, the ritual remains: coffee in hand, cozy blanket thrown over the couch arm, and the soft glow of a candle lighting up the corner of the room. There’s a kind of sacredness in this quiet, unassuming moment. The day hasn’t asked anything of me yet. I get to just be.

It begins with gratitude. Before I open my devotional or flip to the scripture of the day, I breathe and think back to yesterday. What was good? What made me smile? What grace showed up, even in the hard stuff? Some days it’s big; a conversation that healed something. Some days it’s tiny; a text from a child, a bowl of ripe peaches, a breeze through the window.

I grab my pen and write down three things. Just three. Always three. It anchors me. It reminds me that, yes, God is here. Yes, yesterday had goodness. Yes, today can too.

This has become my faithful practice. A steady thread in a life that sometimes feels like it’s unraveling at the edges. The headlines, the heartbreak, the hard conversations; it all still exists. But this practice, this moment on the couch each morning, reminds me that I’m held by something steady. That God’s faithfulness has not once failed me, even when I wasn’t looking.

I used to think I needed dramatic signs to know God was with me: a miracle, a voice, a rescue. But lately, I’ve found Him in the simplest places: in the rhythm of my journaling, in the warmth of the morning mug, in the fact that I showed up again to this spot, even when I felt too tired or too unsure. Faithfulness looks like that sometimes. A page half full, a whisper instead of a shout.

And I think Gayle Forman was right when she wrote,

“We are born in one day. We die in one day. We can change in one day… Anything can happen in just one day.”

It makes you want to pay attention, doesn’t it? To notice what’s happening right now. Because maybe God’s faithfulness isn’t always in the mountain-moving but in the daily showing up.

This morning rhythm, with all its ordinary beauty, has become a reminder of God’s faithfulness to me. It grounds me. It lifts me. And most importantly, it tells me that this day is a gift and I get to choose how I meet it.

So now I want to ask you:
What has been a reminder of God’s faithfulness in your life?

Maybe it’s your own morning ritual. A journal entry. A familiar recipe. A walk that clears your mind. Whatever it is, hold it close today. Let it remind you that even here, even now, God is still good.

Gracefully yours,

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