8. Hold the Line 🌗

There are seasons that feel endless. 

But no season is eternity — only God holds that kind of time.

Our work is to keep our hands steady through the weather, to hold the line until light shifts again.

Because even in the longest night, the horizon still remembers morning.

It always reminds me of my flying days — when I was working toward my private pilot’s licence.

Ahhh, to be young and full of sky-sized dreams.

In another lifetime I believed that if I didn’t yet have the credentials, I could climb my way up: Reservation Agent, Front Desk Agent, Flight Attendant, and finally, Flight Dispatcher.

Then life happened...

When my Anaan passed away, I went home to reconnect, and with her passing my dream of flying commercial liners quietly came in for its own landing.

So much of my identity had revolved around caring for her that when she left, it felt as if a part of my purpose lifted off with her.

Going home was still the right call. I felt rooted in community again, even as the struggle for housing made it hard to stay grounded.

There’s no place like home.

I miss watching the kiddos grow, whole lives take shape, and leaving after each visit is the hardest part.

I’m always met with the same question — When will I see you again? And my answer is always the same: I’m already rushing to come back.

Takukanilaarivugut — we will see each other again.

Until then, I bide my time painting, dreaming, wishing, waiting — holding the line between what was and what’s still to come.

Each day, I’m reminded that faith, like flight, always finds its way back to the light. ☀️✈️

Every season has a reason. ✌️

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Chelsea Singoorie
ᓯᐅᓯ ᓯᖒᕆᖅ
Founder & Artist, The Qujanaq Project by Nunabox