I used to hate not being good at something. If I couldn’t master it quickly, I’d tell myself I just wasn’t meant for it. Failure felt final, like a period instead of a comma.
But life keeps teaching me the magic of “yet”.
I’m not strong enough… yet.
I don’t understand it… yet.
I haven’t healed… yet.
I haven’t figured it out… yet.
Yet is permission.
It’s space to breathe between who you are and who you’re becoming. It’s what separates “I can’t” from “I’m learning.”
We forget that growth is uncomfortable because it requires stretching.
Faith is uncomfortable because it requires trusting.
But yet is where both begin.
So if you’re standing in the middle of something hard, something unfinished, don’t write the ending just yet.
The story’s still unfolding, and so are you.
With gratitude.
