The Art of Becoming

I loved the child they were, but oh my heart… the adult they’re becoming is breathtaking.

Watching them become — it feels a little like standing on the shoreline at dusk, noticing how the sea has deepened in colour without you ever seeing the exact moment it changed.

Advent has me thinking about that—this slow, sacred unfolding. The way God grows things quietly, faithfully, almost imperceptibly at times. And then one day you look up and realise something precious has taken shape right in front of you.

There’s a tenderness in watching them step into themselves: the widening compassion, the sharpened humour, the courage that flickers in unexpected places. They carry echoes of who they used to be, but now those echoes ring inside a larger story. A story they’re co-writing with God.

I ask that their path would be lit, not with blazing certainty, but with enough light for the next right step.
Enough wisdom to choose well.
Enough grace to grow.
Enough love to stay grounded, no matter how tall they rise.

And I ask for my own heart to widen in response.
To release what needs releasing.
To cherish what remains.
To bless the grown contours of their life without clinging to the earlier shapes.

It catches in my chest sometimes, the wonder of it. Not just nostalgia for those early years, but awe at the person emerging. Stronger. Softer. More radiant. More themselves.

Maybe this is one of the quiet gifts of the season: the reminder that becoming is holy work. That growth is often hidden until it isn’t. And that we get to witness it… not just as observers, but as grateful participants.