It had been a long week of moving, and I am not a fan of moving. More than once, I announced to my kids that they will have to take me out of this new place in a casket, because I am never moving again as long as I live. We don’t even have that much stuff anymore, but moving still feels like such an intrusion into life. It’s disruptive and exhausting, and it takes over everything.
As I mentioned before, I had a lot of emotions about leaving. We didn’t move for something bigger or more impressive. We moved because it was the right thing to do, to be closer to a family member who needs us. However, despite my feelings about moving, I am loving the new location. There’s green here, with actual grass and small courtyards, instead of just buildings. It feels calmer.
I like to be comfortable. I like things a certain way. I like knowing where everything belongs. I like building a space that feels like mine, familiar and settled. Uprooting that, even for the right reasons, isn’t easy. I would have been a grouchy Israelite, wandering in the desert, never really settling and living in constant uncertainty.
But God is not limited by our comfort. He is still present and working, even when everything feels out of place.
A few days ago, I stood in my new apartment and made a cup of coffee. I stepped out onto the balcony, and there it was. A mourning dove. You might remember from a previous post that I had one at my old apartment, too. It would sit on my balcony, and it became a reminder to me. God was there, He sees me, and He knows me.
I love birds. I love to watch them, to hear them, to notice their beauty. So to have something so special to me, sitting right there on my balcony in the middle of the city, felt like such a personal gift. It started with one dove, and then eventually there were two. A pair.
Every morning, I would wake up, walk out, and there they were, hanging out on the balcony. I would feed them, and they would fly away when I opened the door, only to return almost immediately. As long as I stayed inside behind the glass, they weren’t afraid. It became our little routine, and I looked forward to it every day. It felt like something special that God had allowed just for me.
So when I stepped out onto the balcony of this new place and saw a mourning dove sitting there, I was really surprised. Grateful. Comforted. It may not mean anything to most people, but to me, it was a personal reminder from my Savior. A reminder to be grateful. A reminder that He is in control. A reminder that even when life feels unsettled and unfamiliar, He is still near. Just like it says in Matthew 10:29–31, not even a sparrow falls to the ground outside of our Father’s care. I believe He was reminding me that I am seen, I am known, and I am cared for.
I haven't seen that mourning dove since, but as I unpack, I'll be setting out a bird feeder. I hope to see my new friend again.
God Is Leading in the Unsettled Places
One of the hardest things about divorce is the deep sense of being unsettled. You are in transition in every possible way. Personally, you’re trying to find yourself again after leaving what was once the most important relationship in your life. Physically, everything changes too. One spouse moves out, or sometimes both, as was the case for me. Nothing feels steady. Transition is uncomfortable and uncertain. It makes everything feel like it’s out of control.
But what I’ve come to see is this: God doesn’t wait for us to feel settled and put together before He shows up. That bird on my balcony? It showed up before I unpacked a single box.
When I think about that, I’m reminded of how God led His people through the wilderness. They were in constant transition, and yet that is exactly where God was most present. He didn’t abandon them until they reached the Promised Land. He led them through the wilderness.
It’s not after the storm passes or once everything is neatly in place that He becomes visible. It’s in the middle of the mess. In fact, those messy moments are often when His presence becomes even more clear. His nature and His character are on full display in our weakest moments.
I saw that years ago when my son was seven years old and was diagnosed with cancer. We had just come from the doctor’s appointment where the tumor showed up on an MRI. We were overwhelmed, scared, and completely unsure of what to do next. We didn’t know what hospital to go to, which doctors to trust, or how to even begin navigating something like this.
Then, in the middle of that chaos, a coworker reached out. She had walked this road before. She stepped in and became like a compass for us. She guided us, helped us understand what to expect, pointed us toward the right doctors, and even connected us with medical professionals we could text directly.
Looking back, I can see so clearly what was happening. In a single moment, everything in our lives shifted. The things we once thought were important didn’t matter anymore. Jobs, schedules, routines, none of it held weight. The only thing that mattered was that our seven-year-old had a brain tumor. And right there, in that moment of complete upheaval, God didn’t just comfort us, He led us.
He used that coworker to guide us in ways we could not have managed on our own, and ultimately, my son is here today because of that guidance. What’s even more meaningful is that since then, God has used our story to help others walking a similar road. Every cancer journey is different, but even having someone say, “Here’s what to expect,” can be a lifeline. That’s how God works. He leads us, and then He uses us to help lead others.
While a small mourning dove on a balcony may not seem as dramatic as those life-altering moments, I’ve come to understand that it is the same God. Whether it’s a major life crisis or a simple move across town to be closer to a family member in need, God is still leading. He is still guiding. He is still present.
Small Things Are Not Small to God
We tend to separate life into categories. There's big moments where God shows up in obvious ways, and small, everyday details that feel insignificant. But Scripture reminds us that nothing is insignificant to God.
We see this truth echoed in the way God calls us to live. He asks us to be faithful, even in the smallest things. In Luke 16:10, Jesus teaches whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much. Why does God care about the small things? Because they are meaningful and tell a larger story.
In Mark 12:41–44, we see a woman give what seems like almost nothing, just two small coins, and yet Jesus honors her above all the others because of the heart behind it. That tells us something important: if God notices our obedience in the small things, then He is present in those small things. He is working in them. He is loving us through them. What feels small to us is not small to Him.
I think sometimes we forget that our God is a deeply personal God. He created each of us uniquely, with our own preferences and our own ways of seeing the world. The things we notice, the things we love, they are not random. He knows exactly what will speak to us. For me, that mourning dove wasn’t just a bird. It was recognizable. It meant something to me because of how God wired me and our history together. I notice birds. I’m drawn to their beauty. And so when that dove appeared, it didn’t feel like coincidence. It felt personal.
I think about Moses and the burning bush in Exodus 3:1–4. Out of everything happening on his journey, Moses noticed that the bush was on fire but not being consumed. I wonder, would I have noticed that? My first instinct might have been, “There’s a fire and I need to put it out,” not to stop and observe what made it different. But God knew Moses would notice. God met him in a way that would capture his attention. And I believe He does the same with us. He meets us in ways that are uniquely meaningful to who we are.
The things that matter to us are not accidental. God is a God of details. A God who sees, who knows, and who lovingly chooses to reveal Himself in the personal ways that speak directly to our hearts.
Gratitude Shifts Our Perspective
If we truly believe that we serve a God who is present in the smallest details, who loves us deeply, who goes before us and prepares the way, then what else could our response be but gratitude? I love journaling, but when I go back and read some of my prayers, they look more like a list of complaints than anything else. It’s so easy to focus on what feels hard, uncertain, or out of control. But the truth is, if we could fully see how much God is involved in every detail of our lives, our prayers might look very different. They might be more thankful and less fearful.
Within my journal were so many prayers about this move. I was overwhelmed. I didn’t know how I was going to get it all done. We had a short amount of time, and I was already behind. I asked God to please help me to move everything and bring the pieces together. And again and again, I felt the same quiet reminder: He is with me. He goes before me. He will handle this move.
Then I saw the mourning dove.
In that moment, it was as if everything I had been praying was gently confirmed. He is with me. He goes before me. And He had already gone before me, to this new place.
The mourning dove reminded me to be grateful. It shifted my perspective. It didn’t change the fact that I had boxes to unpack or that I was still adjusting to a new place. But it changed how I saw it. It reminded me that while I was focused on packing and comfort and trying to feel settled, God had already taken care of the details I was so worried about.
Scripture calls us into this kind of perspective. In 1 Thessalonians 5:18, we are told to give thanks in all circumstances, not because every circumstance is easy, but because God is present in every one of them. Gratitude doesn’t require everything to be perfect; it simply requires us to recognize that God is at work.
There are days I wake up already overwhelmed, thinking about everything ahead of me and wondering how I’m going to handle it. I build it up in my mind, imagining how difficult it will be. But then the day comes, and it’s not nearly as hard as I expected. It’s manageable. It’s covered.
Every time that happens, I’m reminded: that’s not a coincidence. That’s God going before me. That’s Him preparing the way, smoothing what felt impossible, carrying what I thought I had to carry on my own.
We don’t have to change where we are to change how we see where we are. Gratitude does that. It opens our eyes to the ways God is already moving, already providing, already caring for us in both the big and the small things. When we begin to see that, it naturally leads us to praise. He truly does take care of His children. In the smallest details and in the biggest moments, He is always God.
That alone is worthy of our gratitude.
Add your comment