Steel and Stillness

There are moments I wish I could bottle—a sliver of peace tucked between the chaos of raising children, building a home, and carving out sacred space in an unrelenting world. A quiet place where peace lingers, even if shadowed by the soft ache of loneliness that sometimes whispers to the heart.

We grew while raising them. Still growing, still learning, still finding our way. The push and pull of life—too much at times, too little at others—stretches us thin and wraps itself around our thoughts. But somehow, in the middle of it all, we made something beautiful.

We are like rain dancing on a tin roof, familiar and comforting. Like an old cotton shirt worn thin with love. A quiet corner table under string lights draped from a cypress tree—two drinks in, one whiskey, one wine, laughing over how far we’ve come.

We are warm cookies in the oven. The low hum of a football game on a lazy Sunday afternoon while the family naps together on the couch. We are hands held in worship on a morning filled with grace.

We are the Rocky Mountains and the endless Eastern Plains, sunflowers swaying in golden fields, and open roads that lead us home. Home is wherever we are, as long as we are together.

Our love has deepened—not despite the chaos, but because of it. I find myself tearing up at the thought of how far we’ve come, even as my hands tremble to hold it all steady. There’s weight in the memories—the sacred, messy, ordinary moments that built this life.

We’ve weathered storms—colorful, wild, thunderous. And yet here we are, grounded in gratitude. The lessons we learned didn’t just bend us; they refined us. Through trials, tension, and time, we became strong—like anointed steel. Forged by fire. Resilient. Unbreakable.

Our bond has become divine armor. Each trial became a shaping tool. And now, standing here together, I’m in awe of the love that has not only endured but blossomed.

Maybe we tire more easily. Maybe the grey comes quicker. But the flame inside us burns brighter than ever. We were born with fire in our bones, and today, we burn with purpose.

Our strength, our faith—they’ve only grown. And to the One who shaped us, I give all the glory.

Hand in hand, we face what’s ahead—undaunted, unafraid. For we are covered. Protected. Chosen. If God is for us, who could ever be against us?

There’s no one I’d rather walk this wild, sacred journey with than you.

I originally wrote this piece in September, a gift for my husband on our anniversary. But life—beautiful, chaotic life—got in the way. Between schedules, responsibilities, and the pace of it all, I didn’t find the quiet moment to polish and share these words… until now.

As much as I long for stillness—long walks, warm dinners, fresh-baked bread, and deep conversations—we’ve built a life of motion. But I know, one day, these days will slow. Our kids will have lives of their own. And when that time comes, I’ll remember how full these busy days were.

Yes, they move fast. But maybe that’s why they shine so brightly.

So here’s to now. Here’s to us. Here’s to love, faith, and this beautifully wild family I get to call mine.

—SK

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