Moving in Silence
The Bible has a way of teaching through the language of agriculture.
Seeds. Soil. Seasons. Growth. Harvest.
Perhaps that was intentional. In biblical times, agriculture was not simply a way of life; it was a way of understanding life. Jesus often used parables to teach the rhythm of sowing and reaping, reminding us that what is planted in one season may not reveal itself until another. He taught us to recognize a tree by its fruit.
I think about that often when I watch people. People are always becoming something.
And if you watch closely enough, you can sometimes catch the evidence of what has been growing beneath the surface.
That is what we have had the privilege of witnessing with Kerrian.
We have worked with her a few times over the years, and somehow, every time we found ourselves preparing for another session, time had moved ahead of us. Another degree. Another accomplishment. Another milestone to celebrate.
But this time felt different. This wasn't simply another academic achievement.
This was a transition. She was ready to step beyond the classroom and into the work she had been preparing for. School had done what a good launching pad is supposed to do: it gave her somewhere to stand long enough to gather what she needed before taking flight.
There is something beautiful about people who know how to work in silence.
People who don't need every seed they plant to be witnessed.
Who can put their heads down, tend to what is in front of them, and trust that growth does not always happen where the eye can see it.
And then, one day, there is fruit.
The beautiful thing about Kerrian is that she doesn't simply move on to the next thing.
She pauses.
She documents it.
She memorializes the moment.
She gives herself permission to look back and acknowledge what has grown.
And today, we get to do the same. We get to pause with her.
We get to celebrate the work, the discipline, the sacrifice, the preparation, and all of the quiet moments that brought her here. Because sometimes the most remarkable growth happens without an audience. Sometimes the most powerful stories are written before anyone knows there is a story being written. And sometimes, all you have to do is look at the fruit.
Kerrian, we see it. We see the years. We see the growth. We see the becoming.
And we are honored to witness what you've cultivated.
Here's to the next season. Here's to the work ahead.
Kerrian, this is our Ode 2 You.
