notesbynora

There is something deeply comforting about being known. Truly known. Not just recognized in passing or remembered for a moment, but seen, understood, and valued. And yet in a world full of noise and hurry, so many of us move through life feeling unnoticed — like our lives blend into the background, our struggles overlooked, our hearts unseen.

But God never overlooks His children. He never misses a moment. And He never forgets a name.

Scripture reminds us, “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.” — Isaiah 43:1

Those words are not generic. They’re personal. God calls your name. Not the name the world labels you with. Not the names people may have spoken in anger or indifference. Not the names shame tries to whisper. Your real name — the one He spoke over you before you were born.

There have been seasons in my life where I wondered if God saw me — really saw me. Moments of heartbreak. Times of disappointment. Times when the house was full of noise, responsibility, and chaos, but my heart still felt quiet and alone. And yet, even in those seasons, there was always a gentle reminder that God was near… that He had not forgotten me… that He knew my name, my needs, and my story.

God knowing your name means He knows your heart. He knows what you’re carrying. He knows what broke you, what shaped you, what lifted you, and what nearly crushed you. He knows the dreams you don’t say out loud. He knows the prayers you whisper through tears.

And He loves you — not in a distant, general way — but intimately, intentionally, and personally.

Think of Hagar, alone in the wilderness, feeling abandoned and invisible. She cried out, and God met her there. She said, “You are the God who sees me.” Her circumstances didn’t change immediately, but her heart did — because she realized she was not unnoticed.

Think of Zacchaeus — Jesus didn’t say, “Hey, you in the tree.” He called him by name.

Think of Mary Magdalene at the tomb — she didn’t recognize Jesus until He spoke one word: “Mary.”
Her name opened her eyes.

And you – He calls you by name, too.

When you feel overwhelmed… He knows your name.
When you feel overlooked… He knows your name.
When you feel unqualified, unseen, or unsure… He knows your name.
When you feel like life has shifted faster than you can keep up… He knows your name.

To be named by God is to be known deeply and loved completely.

Your identity is not found in the roles you fill or the labels placed on you. Your identity is found in the One who formed you, redeemed you, and calls you His own. You are not forgotten. You are not lost in the crowd. You are held, loved, and known.

Today, let that truth settle into the places where doubt tries to creep in. Whisper it to your own heart:

He knows my name.
He sees me.
He calls me His.

Prayer

Lord, thank You for knowing me so personally and loving me so fully. When I feel invisible, remind my heart that You see me. When I feel forgotten, whisper my name again. Help me walk in the confidence that I belong to You — known, chosen, and loved. Amen.

Waiting is one of the hardest parts of the Christian walk. We love answers. We love clarity. We love motion. But waiting? Waiting feels like stillness when we want to go forward. Like silence when we want direction. Like God is holding something back when our hearts are longing to move ahead.

And yet Scripture tells us something surprising:  “Those who wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength.” — Isaiah 40:31

We often think waiting drains us, but God says waiting restores us.

There is something sacred about the in-between seasons — those stretches of time when nothing seems to be happening on the surface, but everything is taking shape beneath it. Like seeds hidden in the soil, much of God’s work in our lives happens long before we see any signs of growth.

Waiting is not God withholding from us. Waiting is God preparing us.

I’ve lived through seasons where I prayed, “Lord, please move… please open this door… please give me a sign.” And all I heard was quiet. I thought the delay meant God wasn’t listening. But later I understood: the delay was the answer. He was aligning things I couldn’t see, softening hearts I didn’t know needed softening, and shaping me into someone who could carry the blessing when it finally arrived.

The truth is, waiting tests our trust. Do we trust God’s timing? Do we trust His wisdom?
Do we trust that He’s working even when we can’t see a single thing shifting?

But waiting also deepens our hope — because hope has nothing to hold onto except Him.

Think about Abraham waiting for a promised child.  Joseph waiting in prison for justice. Hannah waiting through years of heartbreak. David waiting in caves for a throne he was already anointed for.

Their stories remind us: waiting is not wasted. God’s promises are not fragile. His timing is not late. What He begins, He finishes — and what He promises, He fulfills.

Sometimes we think hope means pretending everything is fine. But real hope is far stronger. Hope stands in the gap between the promise and the fulfillment and chooses to believe anyway. Hope whispers, “God is good. God is working. God has not forgotten me.”

If you’re waiting today — waiting for healing, waiting for restoration, waiting for clarity, waiting for a miracle — know this:

God is not delaying to punish you. He is preparing to bless you. He is building something in you that the promise will one day require.  He is shaping your faith so you can stand strong when the answer comes.

And when the waiting ends, you’ll understand that every tear, every prayer, every quiet morning of trust was building something deeper than the miracle itself — it was building you.

Hold onto hope, dear heart. God is moving, even now.  And the season you’re waiting for is already making its way toward you.

Prayer

Father, strengthen me while I wait. Help me trust Your timing even when I don’t understand it. Fill my heart with hope, calm my fears, and remind me that You are working in ways I cannot yet see. I place my waiting season in Your hands. Amen.

There are moments in life when a door we desperately wanted to walk through suddenly shuts. A relationship ends. A job opportunity disappears. A dream slips through our fingers. And we’re left standing in the hallway with our hands still on the doorknob, wondering what went wrong.

In those moments, it’s easy to feel abandoned or confused. But God’s closed doors are never acts of cruelty. They are acts of protection, redirection, and love.

Scripture reminds us, “The Lord directs the steps of the godly. He delights in every detail of their lives.” — Psalm 37:23

If God delights in the details, then He also knows when a door we want is not the door we need.

I’ve had seasons where I prayed for something with all my heart — a certain outcome, an open opportunity, stability where I felt shaky — only to find that God gently closed that door instead. At the time, it felt like a loss. But later, with clarity only time can give, I saw His hand all over it.

Some closed doors protect us from what we cannot see.  Some closed doors prevent us from settling for less than God’s best.  Some closed doors make room for the miracle we didn’t know to ask for.

One of the hardest lessons in faith is trusting God not only when He opens doors, but when He shuts them.

We love open doors — they feel like answered prayers and forward motion. But closed doors? Those require surrender. Trust. Patience.  Closed doors teach us how to lean into God instead of our own understanding.

And here’s the truth: God never closes a door without already having a better plan prepared.

Not a backup plan.
Not a “maybe this will work instead” plan.
A better plan — one aligned with His wisdom, His timing, and His love for us.

Sometimes the hallway between closed doors and open ones can feel long. Lonely. Quiet. But hallways are not punishment — they’re preparation. In those in-between places, God is shaping us, strengthening us, and aligning things for the next chapter.

Think of Joseph — sold, betrayed, falsely accused. Door after door closed painfully. But every “no” was leading him to a divine “yes.” A seat of influence. A preserved family. A fulfilled purpose.

Think of Paul, who prayed for doors to open in certain regions, and God said “no,” only to eventually lead him to Macedonia, where a great revival broke out.

And think of your own life — the doors you’re grateful today that God shut. Because walking through them might have taken you away from the people, the purpose, and the peace God wanted for you.

If you’re standing in front of a closed door today, don’t panic. Don’t assume God has forgotten you. He’s guiding you. He’s protecting you. He’s working behind the scenes in ways you cannot imagine.

Walk away from the door with confidence, not defeat. Lift your eyes.  Breathe in hope. God is the One who opens doors no person can shut — and shuts doors no person can pry open.

The right one is coming.  And when it swings open, you’ll understand why all the others had to close.

Prayer

Lord, help me trust You when a door closes. Remind me that You are guiding my steps with love and purpose. Give me peace in the hallway and faith to believe that the door You open next will be far better than anything I could have planned. Amen.

Gratitude is one of the simplest spiritual practices, yet it has the power to transform the way we see everything. It shifts our eyes from what is missing to what God has faithfully provided. It softens anxious thoughts and steadies the heart. It reminds us that even on the hardest days, God’s goodness has never left us.

“Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” — 1 Thessalonians 5:18

We often skim this verse and assume God is asking us to be thankful for all circumstances — but that’s not what it says. He asks us to give thanks in all circumstances. Gratitude doesn’t deny the pain or pretend everything is perfect. Instead, it illuminates the presence of God right in the middle of whatever we’re walking through.

I think of seasons in my life when gratitude felt like a choice rather than an emotion — moments when circumstances weren’t what I hoped for, when my heart was tired, or when the future felt uncertain. Yet even then, God gave me small reminders of His faithfulness: a child’s laughter, a sunrise, a kind word, the peace that settles the soul when we whisper, “Lord, I trust You.”

Gratitude turns those moments into altars — places in our hearts where we stop and remember, He’s been good to me.

When my life took unexpected turns — when dreams I once held dear slipped through my hands — gratitude became a lifeline. I learned that thankfulness isn’t something we feel only when everything goes right. Gratitude is an anchor we hold when the winds blow hard. It’s choosing to say, “Lord, You’re still worthy. You’re still faithful. You’re still here.”

Gratitude doesn’t erase sorrow, but it reframes it. It reminds us that God has been present in every chapter — the joyful ones and the ones that stretched us thin. I’ve learned to thank Him not just for the blessings I can see but also for the protection, redirection, and mercy I never even knew I needed.

And the beautiful thing? Gratitude grows. The more we practice it, the more our eyes begin to see God’s fingerprints everywhere — in the ordinary, the overlooked, the quiet. It changes the posture of our hearts.

Life may not always look the way we hope, but there is always, always something to thank God for. Even breath in our lungs is a gift. The people we love are a gift. Healing is a gift. Growth is a gift. Grace — oh, that is a gift beyond measure.

Today, pause for a moment and say, “Thank You, Lord.”
Not because everything is perfect, but because He is.

Prayer

Father, open my eyes to see Your goodness all around me. Teach me to cultivate a grateful heart — not only in joyful moments, but also in hard ones. Help me remember that gratitude draws me closer to You and reminds me of Your faithfulness in every season. Amen.

“Even to your old age and gray hairs, I am He, I am He who will sustain you.
I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.”
— Isaiah 46:4 (NIV)

There’s a recurring lie the world often whispers to those in later seasons of life: You’ve done enough. Your best days are behind you. It’s time to step aside. But Scripture tells a very different story.

God never shelves His servants. He doesn’t retire His children when the hair turns silver or the knees start to ache. In fact, some of His most powerful work is done through those who have lived enough years to carry both wisdom and scars.

Think of Abraham and Sarah. Their story didn’t truly begin until their nineties, when God called them to believe in the impossible—to birth a nation when logic said it was too late. They laughed at first, but their laughter became a testimony that God’s timing is never bound by age.

Consider Moses. At forty, he fled Egypt as a fugitive. At eighty, God set a bush ablaze to tell him, Now it’s time to lead My people out of bondage. Moses’s later life was not winding down—it was a divine assignment.

And what about Caleb, who stood at eighty-five declaring, “Give me this mountain!” (Joshua 14:12). He didn’t see old age as a reason to retreat, but as an opportunity to claim new ground. His spirit remained strong because he trusted a timeless God.

Anna, the elderly prophetess in Luke 2, spent her days in the temple, praying and waiting for the Messiah. She didn’t fade quietly into the background—she became the first to publicly proclaim that the Redeemer had come.

Everywhere you look in Scripture, you find the same truth: When the world says too old, God says still chosen.

Maybe you’ve felt that sting lately—the feeling that your usefulness has passed, that the energy of younger generations has replaced your place. But the Lord who knit you together has not stopped writing your story. If your heart still beats, He still has a purpose for your life.

Your prayers can change lives.  Your wisdom can steady those coming behind you. Your voice can still proclaim His goodness in ways the world desperately needs to hear.

You may not stand on stages anymore, but you can stand in the gap in prayer.  You may not run as fast, but you can walk beside someone weary. You may not have the same strength, but you carry the power of experience—and that is holy ground.

In the world’s eyes, the latter years are a sunset. But in God’s eyes, they are a harvest. Every lesson learned, every trial endured, every loss survived—all of it becomes seed for ministry. The wisdom you hold was never meant to be hidden; it’s a gift meant to be poured out.

“The righteous will flourish like a palm tree… they will still bear fruit in old age,
they will stay fresh and green, proclaiming, ‘The Lord is upright.’”
— Psalm 92:12–15 (NIV)

God doesn’t just sustain His people in their later years—He uses them. He gives them new assignments that only a seasoned soul can carry out.

So lift your head today and remember:  You are not finished.  You are not forgotten.  You are not too old to be used by God.

He delights in proving that His power is made perfect in our weakness, and His purpose outlives our years. The same hands that guided you through youth are still guiding you now—steady, strong, and sure.

Prayer

Lord, thank You that Your plans for me do not expire with age. Help me to see my later years not as a time of ending, but as a season of fruitful purpose. Give me eyes to recognize new opportunities to serve You, and courage to step into them. Use my story, my wisdom, and my prayers to bless others and to bring You glory. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

“Then He got into the boat and His disciples followed Him. Suddenly, a furious storm came up on the lake, so that the waves swept over the boat. But Jesus was sleeping.” — Matthew 8:23- 24 (NIV)

Sometimes, the hardest thing to understand about faith is that Jesus doesn’t always stop the storm. He could — with a word, He could calm the wind, silence the waves, and set the sky back to blue. But there are moments when He chooses instead to sleep through it — not because He doesn’t care, but because He knows how it ends.

The disciples were panicked. The waves were real. The boat was filling with water. But the storm never had the final say — Jesus did. And it wasn’t the calm that proved His power; it was His presence. Even when He seemed silent, He was still in the boat.

Maybe your life feels a lot like that boat right now — rocked by grief, uncertainty, or fear. You’ve prayed, but the storm keeps raging. The job hasn’t come through. The diagnosis didn’t change. The relationship still feels broken.

Take heart. The God who commands the wind and the waves is not unaware of your fear. He is near. Sometimes His miracle isn’t to stop the storm, but to strengthen the sailor. Sometimes His peace isn’t in the absence of chaos, but in the confidence that He’s still in control.

When Jesus finally stood up, the storm obeyed Him. But even before that moment, His disciples were safe because they were with Him. And so are you.

Prayer:
Lord, when my heart trembles and the waves rise higher than my courage, remind me that You are still in the boat. Even if the storm doesn’t stop, anchor me in Your peace. Help me to trust that Your silence is not absence and that Your presence is always my protection. Amen.

Scripture:
“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” – Romans 8:28

We’ve all faced seasons where life seems to take an unexpected turn. Maybe it’s a job that fell through, a relationship that didn’t last, or a dream that feels forever out of reach. Sometimes, we find ourselves standing on a road we never meant to travel — one we didn’t choose and don’t understand.

It’s in those moments that we question: How did I end up here? But here’s the truth — detours don’t derail God’s plan. They are often the very path He uses to bring us closer to His purpose.

Think of Joseph, sold into slavery by his brothers and wrongly imprisoned for years. His dreams seemed shattered, yet God was working behind the scenes, positioning him to save an entire nation. What looked like a dead end was actually divine direction.

Sometimes God allows detours not to punish us, but to prepare us. The delay sharpens our faith, the disappointment teaches dependence, and the unexpected route reveals a depth of grace we might never have known otherwise.

I can look back on seasons of my own life that felt like wrong turns — moments when I thought I had failed, or when the road ahead felt lonely and uncertain. But with time, I could see how God was using every twist and turn to shape me, to deepen my compassion, and to draw me nearer to Him.

The beauty of walking with God is this: nothing is wasted. Not one heartbreak, not one setback, not one detour. He gathers every broken piece and weaves it into a story of redemption.

So if you find yourself somewhere unexpected — a place that wasn’t part of your plan — take heart. God is already there. He’s working behind the scenes, redeeming what feels lost, and writing a story you couldn’t have written on your own.

The detour isn’t the end of the road; it’s just a different route to the same faithful God.

Prayer:
Father, thank You for redeeming the detours in my life. When I don’t understand the road I’m on, help me to trust that You are guiding my steps. Teach me to see purpose in the pauses and peace in the unknown. Thank You that no turn is wasted in Your hands. Amen.