The Beginning of Everything

There’s a road I used to walk often. It wasn’t remarkable, just the same path I took when returning from long journeys—dust on my shoes, thoughts scattered in the wind. But every time I passed that way, I spoke to something unseen. I didn't call it God back then. I only asked, silently, for a sign. A direction. A knowing.

Then one day, without warning, the answer came.“Look left.”

There it was. A tree I had passed a hundred times now held a small wooden sign: "For Sale."

It was simple, almost invisible. But to me, it felt like thunder. That sign didn’t just announce a piece of land—it whispered something deeper. I knew instantly this was the beginning of something. I just didn’t know how long it would take.

More than five years passed. Papers. Problems. Delays. Bureaucracy tangled like overgrown weeds. It would’ve been easy to give up, to say maybe it wasn’t meant for me. But I remembered what a friend once told me: "If something is meant for you, it will find its way to you. If it’s not, something better will."

I held onto that.

Now, as I stand in this garden—my garden—I know those words were true. Because this land did wait for me.Because I am the right person for this story.Because it is mine—not in the sense of ownership, but in the sense of belonging.

This garden is more than soil and trees. It carries memory. It carries the footsteps of those who came before me—villagers who planted their food, raised their animals, lived from the land. Many of them are gone now, but the land remains. Quiet. Steady. Ready.

And now, it grows with me.

I didn’t find the garden. It found me when I was ready. This is what I want to tell you: Trust the unfolding. Trust the Creator. Trust the timing.

Sometimes we spend years chasing signs. But when it's right, the sign will appear—maybe nailed to a tree, maybe in your heart. And when it does, don't rush it. Let it take root in its own time.

Because what's truly yours will wait. Just like this garden did.