Over the last few months, Ayla and I have found ourselves in another season of preparation: planning, writing, revising, praying, and listening. Together with the team at Connaught Hospital, we’ve been getting ready for the launch of the next phase of nurse mentorship program. And now, after all the meetings, drafts, and prayers, here we are. It begins on Monday.

It feels a bit surreal to say that.

There’s this mix of emotions: excitement, gratitude, a bit of nervous energy, and the deep awareness that what’s ahead is so much bigger than us. This moment, the space between preparation and beginning, feels like standing on the edge of something God has been quietly shaping for a long time.

I’ve been reflecting lately on how much of God’s story involves seasons just like this, seasons of getting ready. They’re not wasted time; they’re holy time.

Think of Noah, who spent years building an ark before a single drop of rain fell. Or Moses, who spent forty years in the desert before leading God’s people to freedom. Or David, anointed as king but still tending sheep, learning to lead quietly long before the palace.

And even Jesus spent thirty hidden years of ordinary life before His three years of public ministry. If even He embraced such a long season of preparation, how could we ever think ours are meaningless?

God seems to love the slow work of forming hearts before He releases hands.

These months of preparing for the mentorship program have been full of both joy and stretching.

There have been moments of real encouragement: sitting with nurse leaders who care deeply about their teams, hearing their ideas, and watching vision come to life on paper. And there have been long, tiring days too, the kind of days when things take longer than planned, when communication feels slow, or when there are more questions than answers.

But through it all, I’ve sensed God’s gentle voice reminding me that this is part of it too.

The spreadsheets and schedules, the waiting for approval, the praying over details that no one else will ever see, it’s all part of the story God is writing.

Because before God entrusts us with something new, He shapes us for it.

He’s been teaching patience, that faithfulness often looks like showing up again tomorrow.
He’s been teaching humility, that this program is His work, not ours.
He’s been teaching trust, that the outcomes rest in His hands even when the process feels slow.

On Monday, we’ll step into something we’ve been preparing for over many months, a mentorship program designed to strengthen and support surgical nurses at Connaught Hospital. There will be mentors and mentees, learning and listening, growth and grace.

But even as the program begins, I know God’s preparation isn’t finished. The truth is, preparation doesn’t end when the work starts.

We’re still being shaped. Still being refined. Still learning how to depend on God day by day.

And I think that’s exactly where He wants us: not rushing to prove, but ready to serve.

In Deuteronomy 8:2, Moses says,

“Remember how the Lord your God led you all the way in the wilderness these forty years, to humble and test you in order to know what was in your heart.”

That verse keeps coming back to me. The wilderness, the waiting, the preparation, is where God reveals hearts and reshapes them.

I wonder if that’s what He’s been doing in us: revealing what’s inside, and reminding us that dependence on Him is the foundation of all real ministry.

Because what we’re stepping into on Monday isn’t just a new phase of the project. It’s sacred ground. It’s an opportunity to join God in what He’s already doing in this hospital, in these nurses, and in this nation.