This season has taught me that hope doesn’t always look like relief.

What if the will of God wasn’t just a plan—but a place? Not just something we chase or try to figure out, but somewhere we live and abide. For me, that place would be filled with the sounds of animals grazing in open fields, the smell of fresh soil and rain, and the sight of vegetables and flowers growing side by side. It would be a place where people gather around long tables, laugh loudly, share food, and carry each other’s burdens. A place where work feels holy and rest fe

Even if all you have is peanut butter.