This season, we’ve lived out the beauty of waiting and persevering — through the tending, the showing up, and the trusting that fruit would come in its time. And as we look back, we can see how perseverance has indeed borne fruit — in the land, in the kitchen, and in our hearts.
Waiting is the posture — the stillness of heart that trusts God’s timing, even when nothing seems to be moving.
Perseverance is the motion within that stillness — the quiet strength to keep showing up, to keep tending what’s in front of you, even when fruit hasn’t yet appeared.
Waiting without perseverance loses hope.
Perseverance without waiting loses peace.
But when the two dwell together, grace deepens and maturity blooms.
I’m in the same place, with the same to-do list, but somehow there’s a bit more grace in the day — a reminder that time isn’t always as rigid as we make it. Of course, soon that hour will slip away again, and I’ll be tempted to feel behind, as usual. But maybe that’s the invitation: not to keep up, but to slow down.
It’s the simple pleasures that have my heart these days — the quiet miracles hidden in everyday rhythms. Even within the laws of nature lie millions of wonders: seeds splitting, frost forming, animals greeting us at dawn. It reminds me that God is always at work, even when I’m not.
So it’s okay to fall back — literally and figuratively.
Slow your response.
Change your response.
Ponder. Wonder. Consider. Then act.
Maybe the pace we choose to finish the year will determine how much of God’s goodness we actually notice.
Until Next Time,
Mrs. Farmer Jones
Locovore Farms