Change has a way of showing up uninvited. It doesn’t ask permission. It doesn’t wait for us to feel ready. It just comes—wild, messy, unpredictable—and often at the most inconvenient times.

And yet, in the wild of changing things, something within us stirs.

We resist it at first, of course. That’s only human. We long for the familiar, the secure, the predictable patterns that make us feel safe. But change doesn’t bend to our longing. It comes like a gust of wind, scattering what we thought was steady. Jobs shift, people leave, relationships evolve, and the versions of ourselves we once clung to start slipping through our fingers.

It’s disorienting. Unsettling. Sometimes even painful.

But here’s what no one tells you: hidden inside the chaos of change is the invitation to become.

And that’s where the miracle begins.

Because even though we didn’t know how at first, even though we doubted and stumbled and whispered “I can’t do this” into the quiet of the night—we found our wings.

We learned to trust the wind instead of fearing it.

We stopped gripping the old and leaned into the new.

We let go of the need to control every outcome and started showing up with open hands.

We began to believe that maybe—just maybe—we were made to fly through changing skies.

And so we did.

Not perfectly. Not without tears. But with courage.

Because in the wild of changing things, we found strength we didn’t know we had.

We discovered peace that wasn’t tied to stability, but rooted in surrender.

We realized that the breaking wasn’t the end, but the beginning of a deeper becoming.

Change didn’t destroy us—it delivered us.

And flight wasn’t something we waited for—it was something we chose.

We may still be in the middle of shifting seasons. Life may still feel uncertain. But we know now:

We are not at the mercy of change.

We are held by the One who never changes.

And because of that, we can stretch our wings—again and again.

And fly.

Until next time,