How God Develops You (Part 3)

Nature, Curiosity, and the Way God Got My Attention

In 2013, I didn’t know I was being developed.
I thought I was just tired.

I was living in Baltimore at the time, raising young children, carrying the weight of a life I didn’t expect. My mother suggested a trip home to Georgia, and while I was there, we took a short trip to Callaway Gardens.

I came for a break from my life.
What I found was space — space to breathe, to slow down, to notice.

As we walked through the gardens, something shifted.
The colors felt sharper.
The air smelled different.
My pace slowed.

It felt like I had been transported, both literally and figuratively, to another place.

Being outside didn’t just feel restorative.
It felt like a place of anchoring for me.

When I returned to Baltimore, I began to pay attention to this. Whenever the weather allowed, I would get outside intentionally. I took my boys to the playground. I would walk or run at Dru Hill Park or Lake Montebello. I noticed that when I was outdoors, my mind quieted.

At home, I was distracted.
Outside, I was present.

This was different from anything I had been taught. Most of what I had learned emphasized prayer closets and carefully constructed spiritual routines. But once again, God met me differently.

He met me outside.

For some of us, the issue isn’t that God isn’t speaking.
It’s that we haven’t learned where and how we hear Him most clearly.

Throughout Scripture, God often speaks to people outside. On mountains (Exodus 19; 1 Kings 19:8–13). In gardens (Genesis 3:8). By the sea (Exodus 14:15-16).

Over time, I began to recognize three ways God was meeting me in nature.

First, I learned how to simply be with Him.
When I was outside, my mind cleared more easily. I wasn’t performing prayer. I was learning to just be in His presence.

Second, God would often use what I saw in nature as a starting point for communication. I would notice something specific—an animal, a color, something that didn’t seem to belong. What I noticed externally would open a conversation internally.

Third, God would give me specific insight related to what I was dealing with. Parenting wisdom. My emotions. Direction about work. Not all at once. Not dramatically. But clearly.

During that same trip, we visited the Little White House, Franklin D. Roosevelt’s historic summer home near Callaway Gardens. I’ve always loved history and old homes, so we went simply because it interested me.

But it was learning about his wife, Eleanor Roosevelt, that stopped me.

She had been groomed for aristocracy, yet she became one of the most outspoken advocates for social justice in American history. She used her proximity to power not for preservation, but for service.

I couldn’t shake her story.

I ordered books.
I read more.
I paid attention.

I knew the stories of Black women who chose to fight injustice for the sake of their own survival and the well-being and safety of their loved ones. But to see a white woman using her status to advocate for the dignity of others during that era was quite uncommon.

That word stayed with me.

Uncommon.

She had been groomed for one thing, but graced for another.

God wasn’t just highlighting history. He was showing me a pattern. And He was doing it through something that already held my attention.

We often assume that if God wants to speak, it will come through obviously spiritual channels. Scripture. Prayer. Church. And He absolutely does speak there.

But He also speaks through what interests you.

Through what you linger over.
Through what you return to.
Through what captures your attention without effort.

Interest is not always a distraction.
Sometimes it is an invitation.

Looking back, I can see that God was developing my discernment. He was teaching me how to notice, how to listen, and how to recognize patterns.

He met me in nature.
He spoke through my curiosity.
He developed my attentiveness long before He entrusted me with unique assignments.

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Reflection

Has God met you in unconventional ways?