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Personal Reflection

On the surface, this feels simple. Some years speak. Some years listen. Some knock, others finally open the door. February knows which one it is. The air is thin, the light reluctant. Nothing is rushing to explain itself yet.

But beneath that simplicity is a harder truth: question-years are uncomfortable. They don’t reward effort with clarity. They sit you down in the middle of uncertainty and ask you to stay. February feels like that—too early for answers, too late to pretend you don’t need them. The silence isn’t empty. It’s interrogative.

Maybe the work isn’t answering yet. Maybe it’s learning how to live inside the question without turning it into panic. Some seasons aren’t meant to be solved. They’re meant to be endured with honesty intact.

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Reflective Prompt

What question has this season placed in your hands—and are you letting it stay unanswered?