A Quiet Year, a Holy Moment

 

If I’m honest, 2025 didn’t feel flashy. It wasn’t a year of constant momentum or loud wins. It was quieter than I expected. Slower. More refining than rewarding. But when I look back now, there is one moment that outweighs everything else. A moment so sacred I still struggle to put it into words.

In 2025, I had the honor of baptizing my mom.

There are things you pray for that feel distant, almost too heavy to hope for. For years, my mom’s salvation lived in that space for me. I prayed, but underneath those prayers was a question I didn’t always want to admit out loud: Lord, why does this feel like it’s on me?

For a long time, I carried the weight of it as if her salvation depended on my eloquence, my knowledge, or my ability to explain God “the right way.” I felt unqualified. Unequipped. Afraid of saying the wrong thing. After all, this wasn’t a casual conversation. This felt like life or death.

But sometime this year, God began to simplify my faith.

He reminded me that salvation has never been my responsibility.
That transformation is not produced by pressure, performance, or perfect words.
That my role was never to convince, only to surrender. (I jokingly say that when I gave up is when God began to work.)

There was a phone call with my mom earlier this year that marked a turning point for me. I remember praying beforehand, telling God plainly that I didn’t have the words. And for the first time, instead of trying to prepare myself, I released control. I spoke honestly, imperfectly, without a script, trusting that if anything landed, it would be because the Holy Spirit carried it there.

And He did.

What I expected to be met with resistance was met with openness. What I feared would unravel actually settled something deep. I walked away from that call not proud of what I said, but in awe of what God did when I simply said yes.

Still, I didn’t know how the story would end.

Months later, standing in the water, preparing to baptize my mom, I felt a holy stillness that I’ll never forget. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t rushed. It was reverent. Sacred. Heavy in the best way.

As I lowered her into the water and brought her back up, I wasn’t thinking about theology or timelines or the years of prayer behind that moment. I was thinking about the faithfulness of God. About how He works patiently, quietly, and far beyond our understanding. About how He invites us into miracles not because we are capable, but because we are willing.

That moment reframed my entire year.

2025 wasn’t about productivity or platforms or progress I could measure. It was about obedience. About learning to loosen my grip and trust God with the people I love most. About discovering the freedom that comes when you stop trying to be the Savior and start trusting the One who already is.

If there’s one thing I’m carrying into the next year, it’s this:
God doesn’t ask us to have all the answers.
He asks us to be available.

And sometimes, when we say yes ... we get to witness a miracle.

Be Blessed xx

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