Tag: Building a Future

There’s a certain kind of quiet that only shows up on nights like this, the night before everything shifts. It’s not peaceful, not loud, not chaotic, it’s that in-between quiet, the kind that feels like the world is holding its breath while God rearranges something behind the curtain. Tonight is that space for me, and I’m standing between the man I was this morning and the man I’ve got to be tomorrow. It’s a strange doorway, one foot in survival, one foot in promise, and I can feel both sides tugging on me. Servicon calling my name, the old storms trying to drag me back, grief tapping me on the shoulder at 2:11 a.m., marriage stretched thin, pressure stacked high, faith whispering, “Keep climbing.”

This is the tension nobody talks about, the night before the blessing breaks through. I’m tired on a level that doesn’t show up on my face but sits in my bones. Losing my mother, losing my cousin, trying to step into a leadership role while I’m still learning how to breathe again, trying to hold my family together while holding myself up with the last pieces of strength I’ve got, it’s like life has me in a chokehold and a spotlight at the same time. I feel the pressure of being the man the kids look to, the man my wife depends on, the man God trusted with this climb. Some days that weight feels holy, other days it feels like too much, but tonight, it just feels real.

Emotionally, everything is cloudy, but spiritually, my mission is clear as day. It’s like God is saying, “You don’t have to understand the whole staircase, just take the next step.” So I did. I walked into Servicon, I shook hands, I felt welcomed, I felt seen, I felt, and this is rare, home. That’s clarity. But I still came home to the storm, and that’s the confusion. Life never waits for you to get stable, it just keeps demanding more.

With everything stacked on my shoulders, the climb didn’t stop, and tonight it hit me. I’m exhausted, but I’m still climbing. I’m hurting, but I’m still climbing. I’m grieving, but I’m still climbing. I’m becoming someone new, and the climb is the proof. Breakthroughs don’t show up at the top, they show up at the breaking point, where most people quit, where most people fold, where most people step back. That’s where blessings get born.

This is where I’m writing from tonight, not the finish line, not the celebration, not the victory lap, but the middle, the part where the blessing is close enough to feel but not close enough to hold, the part where God is stretching me so I don’t snap when He elevates me, the part where my faith and my frustration are wrestling in the same room, the part where I’m learning to breathe again without the people I thought I’d grow old with. This is the truth, I’m trying to celebrate a new beginning while trying not to fall apart from what I lost. That’s the battlefield inside me tonight, and somehow, some way, I still feel God’s hand on my back saying, “Don’t stop now.”

Tomorrow, I step deeper into this new season, new role, new responsibility, new version of myself. I don’t know what waits for me on the other side of that door, but I do know this, God didn’t bring me through all that darkness just to drop me in the light. My mother’s strength is in me, my father’s fire is in me, my family’s future is on me, and the climb, this long, painful, beautiful climb, is carrying me forward. Tonight is the quiet before the shift, tomorrow, the blessing breaks through, and I’ll be ready.

T. Salih Ramsey

Read more at theclimbblog.com and watch the journey on YouTube.com/the climbblog