My words for this year are fortify and present. Not in a “new planner, new personality” kind of way. More like a roll-up-your-sleeves, this is real life kind of way.

For a long time, I thought building meant moving faster. Bigger goals. Louder yeses. Clear next steps that looked impressive when explained to other people. I also thought being present meant slowing down so much that progress had to hit pause – like you could either build a life or be in it, but not both.

Turns out, that was a lie I picked up somewhere along the way. Fortifying and being present aren’t opposites. They’re partners.

Fortifying looks like strengthening what already exists. Reinforcing the foundation. The kind of work that doesn’t photograph well but keeps everything from falling apart. Being present looks like staying put. Paying attention. Not sprinting toward “what’s next” just to feel productive.

And presence? Presence has become the work. Which is funny, because presence doesn’t feel flashy. You don’t get gold stars for it. You don’t even always realize it’s doing anything at all. Until it does.

One night at dinner – a normal, nothing- special, probably pasta on the table kind of night – my son prayed. Nothing scripted. Nothing polished. But halfway through, I froze a little because the tone of his prayer sounded just like mine.

Not the words. The posture. The pauses. The calm. The way he spoke to God like he was already near.

I didn’t think he was listening that closely.

I wasn’t teaching. I wasn’t correcting. I was curating a “faith moment”. I was just living my faith out loud in the way I always try to do – and somehow, without me realizing it, he was watching. Listening. Learning.

That was one of those moments where you quietly think, oh…. something’s working. That’s fortifying.

I used to think God’s calling had to be loud. Like thunder-from-the-sky loud. Big announcements. Clear signs. A dramatic pivot that made sense to everyone else. I thought obedience would feel bold and obvious.

But lately? It hasn’t.

Lately, it’s been a nudge. A whisper. A steady sense of “stay here” instead of “go do more’. Less upheaval, more faithfulness.

There’s a verse that says faith can be as small as a mustard seed – tiny, unimpressive, easy to overlook – and yet somehow strong enough to grow into something that shelters others. I think about that a lot. About how God seems pretty comfortable working through the small, the quiet, the ordinary.

I’m learning that calling doesn’t always interrupt your life. Sometimes it settles into it.

Sometimes obedience looks like sitting at the same table every night. Saying the same prayers. Showing up again tomorrow. Strengthening what’s already been placed in your care instead of chasing something shinier.

I’m fortifying a life where faith is caught, not lectured. Where my kids learn how to pray because they’ve heard it modeled – not because they were told the “right” way. I’m building slowly, quietly, intentionally… while still being present for the moment that don’t feel big but matter the most.

Maybe fortifying doesn’t require absence. Maybe presences doesn’t mean stagnation.

Maybe building a life that lasts looks less like rushing forward and more like strengthening what’s right in front of you.

And if the calling feels quiet – that doesn’t mean it’s small.

I don’t feel called to louder. I don’t feel called to more. I feel called to here – to fortify what’s been entrusted to me and stay present long enough to see it take root. There’s a verse that says we will know a tree by it’s fruit, and if the fruit looks like prayers whispered at the dinner table, steadiness instead of striving and faith growing quietly in small hearts…. then maybe the whisper was enough all along.