This has been a season where my faith has truly been tested.
For most of my life, I’ve believed I knew what was best for me—or at least I thought I did.
I’m the quintessential go-getter. I’m constantly creating, dreaming, and bringing ideas to life, often juggling several at the same time. Productivity has always been my comfort zone.
When my birthday came around last October, I made a decision to rest. I promised myself I’d come back even stronger in 2026. I mapped out my quarterly goals, planned new projects, and prepared for what I believed would be my biggest year yet. I had successfully produced three sensory storytelling experiences, and my plan was to double that.
So I thought.
God had a different plan.
His response wasn’t “not ever.”
It was, “Not in this season.”
As the new year began, something unexpected happened. I had no desire to force anything. It wasn’t that I stopped creating—I created plenty. I wrote. I painted. I imagined. But spiritually, I never felt the green light to release any of it.
Instead, I felt one clear instruction:
Sit still.
So… I sat.
I didn’t know why, and surprisingly, I didn’t spend my days searching for answers. That’s completely unlike me. I’m usually the person who needs to understand every “why” before I can move forward.
But this season was different.
Before I knew it, the anniversary of my very first show had arrived. An entire year had passed without me performing.
That was hard to accept.
If you’re just meeting me through these words, I’m an artist—a sensory storyteller, author, painter, and wellness creative. Performing isn’t simply something I do; it’s part of who I am.
As more months passed, I became restless.
I reached out about hosting one of my sensory experiences.
The interesting part?
God never told me to.
My second show anniversary was approaching, and I convinced myself that it was time. Eventually, an opportunity came. Someone wanted to collaborate. Nearly six months into the year, I finally had my first event.
Yet throughout the entire process, I kept hearing one sentence in my spirit:
“I have a new trajectory for you.”
I was excited.
I poured everything into the event. I even invited my nieces to showcase their incredible talents because I believe that if I’m growing, they should grow alongside me.
But deep down…
My nervous system never felt settled.
I ignored it.
I promoted the event, ran advertisements, and purchased supplies I couldn’t really afford. I entered into a partnership with someone I hadn’t truly taken the time to know.
Looking back, the warning signs were there all along.
Then performance night arrived.
I walked in with my nieces, and God’s “No” couldn’t have been louder.
There was no staff to support the event, so my nieces stepped in to help. There were no working microphones. By the end of the evening, our audience was only four people.
I could tell you every detail, but honestly, I don’t need to.
The lesson was already clear.
If you feel God’s “No” in the pit of your stomach, don’t force it into your “Yes.”
Oddly enough, I wasn’t disappointed.
My niece, on the other hand, was furious. She questioned the owners while I simply sat there.
I realized that I had been placing pressure on myself to recreate the success of the previous year.
But here’s what God was teaching me:
I’m not the same woman I was then.
When God elevates you, He often closes the door to the version of yourself that can no longer go where you’re headed.
As I sat quietly, I heard a gentle whisper:
“This is not the lane I prepared for you.”
I accepted my part in what happened.
I moved before I was instructed to move.
That consequence belonged to me.
And I owned it.
I still don’t know exactly what God’s “wait” is preparing me for.
But when I find out, you’ll be among the first to know.
Sometimes I wonder…
What if I refuse to wait and only end up touching a few rooms…
…when patience could position me to touch the world?
Today, I’m learning what it truly means to walk by faith. I’m learning to move with spiritual blinders on—not looking to the left or the right, not comparing my journey to anyone else’s, and not rushing ahead of God’s timing.
That is what being led by faith looks like for me.
This season even inspired me to create my Led by Faith Collection, beginning with a small line of T-shirts. They aren’t just apparel; they’re a reminder of what this season has taught me.
Obedience isn’t always exciting.
Waiting isn’t always comfortable.
But faith isn’t proven when everything makes sense.
Faith is proven when you trust God enough to stay still until He says, “Now.”
I took my blinders off before God told me to.
That won’t happen again.
Have you ever felt God telling you to wait, but your desire to move was louder than His instruction?
Have you ever mistaken your timeline for His timing?
If so, you’re not alone.
I’m still walking this journey. I’m still learning what it means to surrender my plans for His purpose. I don’t have all the answers yet, but I do know this: every season of obedience is preparing us for something greater than we can currently see.
If you’re in a waiting season, don’t despise it. Don’t rush it. Don’t mistake stillness for stagnation. Sometimes the greatest movement is happening beneath the surface, where only God can see it.
When His timing arrives, you’ll never have to force what He has already prepared.
Until then…
Keep the faith.
Walk in obedience.
And trust that what God has for you will never require you to outrun Him.