Hannah’s grief was not performative. She didn’t gather a crowd or deliver eloquent words. She sat in the presence of God—weeping, whispering, barely forming audible sound. And still, God heard her.

Consider a bustling construction site. Cranes loom tall, steel beams clash and ring with promise, and trucks deliver endless supplies—seemingly chaotic yet orchestrated by an unseen blueprint. Initially, the site appears disorderly, messy, even frustratingly incomplete. Yet hidden within the clutter lies a meticulous design.