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Some seasons feel dry, quiet, and hidden… but they are not wasted. Like the cactus, blooming doesn’t come without a season of restraint. A winter. A waiting. A stretching beneath the surface. There is a maturity that forms in the stillness— and when the time is right, it blooms. Not stuck. Not forgotten. Prepared. Even the plateau isn’t a place of stagnation— it’s a place of rest, of play, of steady elevation. A place where God sustains what He’s already grown. Holy Spirit, thank You for teaching me to create, to see, and to trust the process. All glory to Jesus for every hidden season that led to bloom
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