I’ve never had a large circle.

No childhood best friend who’s known every version of me. No long-standing crew of women with scrapbook memories and inside jokes that go back decades. I didn’t come into adulthood with a group of girlfriends to lean on, to call late at night, to take trips with and grow old beside.

And for a long time, that felt like something was missing in my story.

I watched other women wrap themselves in the warmth of lifelong friendship and wondered quietly—what was wrong with me? Was I too guarded? Too busy? Did I miss it?

I didn’t realize back then that God doesn’t build our lives the way the world tells us they should look. He doesn’t hand everyone their people in the same season. He doesn’t work off of timelines or traditions. He works in grace and perfect timing.

Looking back, I see now that He didn’t forget me.

He just took His time—sending the right people, gently, one by one.

Not all at once. Not in a whirlwind. But with purpose.

Some came into my life during the messy middle—when I was exhausted, unsure, healing. Some showed up when I didn’t think I had space for connection, and yet their presence made room for peace. Some surprised me entirely, arriving without fanfare but immediately feeling like home.

And most of them? They’re not loud.

They’re not flashy.

They’re not all outwardly religious.

But they are holy ground.

Some don’t quote Scripture, but they live out grace with every breath.

Some don’t pray out loud, but they carry peace into every room.

Some don’t use “church language,” but their hearts reflect the love of a Savior who sees and stays.

They are quiet reminders of God’s faithfulness. The kind of people you feel safe with even in silence. The kind who don’t demand your best version—they simply want the real one.

I used to think I wasn’t the kind of woman who would have a “tribe.” That I was too independent. Too weary. Too weathered.

But I see now that my tribe just looks different.

It’s smaller. Quieter. Slower to form.

But deeply rooted in love, and beautifully, unmistakably God-sent.

They’re the ones who check in when they know something’s off.

The ones who pray when I don’t have words.

The ones who show up without needing an invitation.

The ones who see my story as sacred, not messy.

And that has changed everything.

It’s taught me that your people don’t have to be loud to be powerful.

They don’t have to wear their faith on their sleeve to reflect God’s love.

They don’t have to have known you forever to stand with you when it matters most.

They just need to show up with His heart.

And they have.

So if your circle is still forming, take heart.

If it feels quiet, trust that it’s not empty.

If your people don’t look like anyone else’s, remember—they were never supposed to.

God is intentional.

He sends what we need—not always what we expected.

And when He sends people who reflect His love—through laughter or loyalty, through bold truth or gentle presence—that is holy.

To My People:

Thank you.

Thank you for showing up—for listening with your whole heart, for holding space for the messy parts of my story without needing to fix them.

Thank you for loving me not in spite of what I carry, but because you see what God is doing in me.

Some of you carry your faith like a whisper, others like a wildfire. Some of you arrived in seasons I didn’t even know I needed you. But all of you have been the hands and feet of Jesus in my life—whether you realized it or not.

You’ve been prayers answered. You’ve been comfort spoken. You’ve been evidence of God’s kindness. You are part of my healing. Part of my becoming. Part of the story I thank God for, over and over again.

I may not have a big circle. But I have my people.

And you, dear ones—you are holy ground.