And So It’s Been A Year

Hello Lovelies,

A year ago, I closed the doors to MissToo Made It.

Even writing that still feels strange.

For so long, MissToo Made It was more than a business to me. It was proof that hard work pays off. It was long nights in my apartment packing orders. It was favor. It was community. It was a storefront. It was the thing people knew me for. In many ways, it became the evidence that I was capable, successful, disciplined, and doing something meaningful with my life.

And truthfully, I loved it deeply.

What started as custom Greek paraphernalia for friends in college turned into something I never could have imagined. The Lord allowed me to steward a seven figure business. He allowed me to create, lead, build, hire, dream, and grow. He allowed me to experience doors opening that I did not have the power to open on my own.

But somewhere along the journey, success became intertwined with identity.

Not intentionally. Not overnight. But subtly.

I began to trust what my hands could build more than the God who gave me hands in the first place.

And that is part of the story no one really sees when they look at a successful business online.

Because outwardly, things looked great. But inwardly, the Lord was beginning to call me deeper. He was exposing things in my heart. He was teaching me what it truly meant to surrender. He was teaching me that obedience to Him could not stop at the areas of my life that felt comfortable or convenient.

So eventually, after much prayer, wrestling, discipleship, conviction, tears, fear, and surrender, I closed the business.

There will be another blog one day where I share more fully about denouncing, obedience, and all the details surrounding that season. But this blog is not really about the closing.

This blog is about the year after.

The quiet year.

The hidden year.

The year where the Lord stripped away so much of what I once leaned on so I could finally meet Him differently.

Because if I am being honest, for a long time I knew God as Savior, but not fully as Provider.

I knew Him as the One who opened doors for my business. I knew Him as the One who blessed the work of my hands. But I still subtly believed that I was responsible for keeping myself afloat.

As long as the business was running, there was always another launch to prepare for. Another collection. Another strategy. Another invoice. Another opportunity to make something happen.

But this past year?

The Lord removed so much of my ability to rely on myself.

And it has been one of the hardest and holiest seasons of my life.

Because when the income changes…
when the plans shift…
when the savings begin to dwindle…
when you no longer have the title that once made you feel secure…
when the thing you built is no longer carrying you…

you very quickly find out what you actually believe about God.

This year, the Lord has been teaching me to know Him as Jireh.

Not just quote it.

Not just sing about it.

But know Him there.

To know Him when I do not have all the answers.
To know Him when I cannot “work harder” my way out of uncertainty.
To know Him when tomorrow feels unclear.
To know Him when I feel hidden.
To know Him when provision comes in ways I never would have chosen for myself.

I used to read Matthew 6 and admire it.

“Do not worry about tomorrow…”

But this year, I have had to live it.

I have had days where I genuinely did not know how certain things would work out. Days where fear tried to creep in. Days where I wanted to take control back. Days where I questioned whether I heard God correctly.

And yet somehow, over and over again, the Lord has sustained me.

Not always early.
Not always how I expected.
Not always comfortably.

But faithfully.

This past year, I have clung tightly to 1 Kings 17.

The story where the Lord tells Elijah:

“You will drink from the brook, and I have directed the ravens to supply you with food there.”

What a strange promise.

A brook and ravens.

Not abundance overflowing in the way we typically imagine.
Not luxury.
Not excess.
Not immediate clarity about the future.

Just enough.

Daily dependence.

Provision that required trust.

And I think that is where the Lord has had me.

At the brook.

Learning dependence.

Learning stillness.

Learning that He is trustworthy even when life no longer looks the way I planned.

And honestly? I think I am only now beginning to arrive at the place He wanted my heart to reach all along.

A year later, I can finally say that I see how much of my identity was attached to productivity, achievement, and being “needed.” I see how often I measured fruitfulness by output instead of intimacy with Jesus. I see how much striving existed in me.

And yet, even in that realization, I have encountered so much kindness from God.

Not condemnation.

Kindness.

The kind of kindness that lovingly strips things away so you can finally become free.
The kind of kindness that sits with you in hidden seasons.
The kind of kindness that teaches you to rest.
The kind of kindness that reminds you your value was never in what you produced.

And I think that is part of the heart behind God Is So Kind & Co. in this season.

Not perfection.
Not polished Christianity.
Not a brand built on having arrived.

But testimony.

A place where we can acknowledge the goodness of God honestly. A place where we can talk about surrender, refinement, obedience, grief, growth, process, and becoming. A place that points back to Jesus over and over and over again.

Because truly, this past year has not been about building another business.

It has been about the Lord rebuilding me.

And I think the shift, growth, healing, and clarity I have been praying for are finally beginning to bloom from a much healthier place. Not from striving. Not from fear. Not from trying to prove myself.

But from abiding.

So yes…

and so it’s been a year.

A year since I closed the business.
A year since everything changed.
A year since the Lord began teaching me how to loosen my grip.
A year of wilderness.
A year of hiddenness.
A year of pruning.
A year of provision.
A year of learning Him more deeply.

And somehow, even here, I can say this with full confidence:

God is still so kind.

With love,
Jadesha M. Hair