When you feel far away.

There are seasons when everything you used to feel goes quiet. You still say the words, but they land flat. It is easy to read that silence as abandonment.

But distance is usually not absence. It is often just tiredness wearing a heavier name — a nervous system that has been holding too much for too long.

Lower the bar

In dry seasons, do less, not more. One sentence before sleep. One breath before the day begins. Faith does not need intensity to survive; it needs contact.

Let the silence be company

Not every quiet is an empty room. Sometimes it is simply someone sitting with you who does not need you to speak.

Come back tomorrow. That is the whole practice.