I used to wait for contentment to find me.

I thought it would arrive when life settled a little better, when circumstances aligned just right, when age provided wisdom. I imagined contentment as a gift showing up at my door, wrapped in quietness, peace, and ease. With the money and the success and the fulfillment coming along with it. 

But it never did. 

Contentment never visited like that. 

Life stayed unpredictable. Circumstances refused to cooperate. And I was left searching, waiting.

But while searching and while waiting, I started noticing something. Contentment didn’t come to me; I had to go to it. Not by striving, but by choosing. By walking toward it, stepping into it, making space for it.

I needed to do my part. 

So I started waking early, before the world demanded my attention. I journaled my prayers of confessions and realizations and hopes using different devises at different times. I read words—ancient words and new words—which shaped my soul. I whispered prayers in the dark. Sometimes I just sat in silence, letting my questions rest in the stillness.

I walked. Not to get there, but to be there. Step after step, breath after breath, I let the rhythm settle me. I found contentment in the trees as they stood in their places, in the wind whispering through the branches, in the way my feet kept moving and moving and moving.

What else did I do which brought a better mindset of contentment? 

Breakfast or lunch or dinner with friends—simple meals, rich with laughter, seasoned with conversations. Songs with lyrics that made me pause, that helped me pray, that reminded me of what is true. Ball games that let me escape for a while, luring me toward a story bigger than myself. Sunrises that called me to gratitude and sunsets that reminded me to rest.

I found contentment in the mountains, where I could breathe deep and remember how small I am. I found it at the ocean, where the waves kept coming and going and coming and going—steady and sure, like grace. I found it in waterfalls—rushing, relentless, full of movement and mystery. I found it in the stars, in the way they shined without striving, in the way they simply were there—just there.

Family moments, poetry lines, worship songs, and quiet contemplation all became invitations to contentment. I didn’t always take them. Some days, I still waited for contentment to come to me. But the best days were the days I walked my way there. To find it. To experience it. 

So I hope to continue choosing. Choosing to wake early, to walk, to read, to pray, to write, to laugh, to listen. Choosing to stand in awe of the mountains, to breathe in the ocean air, to watch the sun rise and set.

Contentment isn’t always something we stumble into. Sometimes it is something we step toward.

So take a step. Whatever today holds, choose to go where contentment is found. Walk toward it. 

Wake early. Read. Pray. Write. Laugh. Be with people who remind you what is good. Stand beneath the stars and remember who you are. Listen to a song that stirs your soul. Let yourself be astonished by the beauty around you.

Contentment is waiting. But it might not come to you.

You just might need to go to it.