It has been a minute since I last wrote on this site. Seasons have changed, life has unfolded in unexpected ways, and God has continued His quiet, faithful work in me. I’m grateful you’re here as I return to this space with a deeper dependence, and a renewed desire to reflect on grace, formation, and the presence of God in ordinary life.
I choose not to live in regret.
There are days I still get caught in the guilt of past mistakes. Years ago, I would stay there, replaying them over and over and over. Condemnation would creep in, shame would follow close behind, and sometimes anger would take over. I know now that those voices never led me toward life.
As a mom, there are moments when I ache for the days when my kids were younger. I worked from home while they were growing up, juggling responsibility and presence the best I could. Recently, I watched old home videos the kids had created while I was working. Their laughter, silliness, and pure joy made my whole being smile. It brought back memories that were both funny and precious. I loved that season. I cherish that time. I was able to work, help provide for our household, and still be near them in ways I will always be grateful for.
And still, there are moments when specific parenting mistakes surface in my mind. There are times I wish I could rewind, respond differently, choose better words, show more patience. What I am learning, slowly and honestly, is that perfection was never the goal.
What matters is that my kids experience humility.
That they hear me say, “I’m sorry.”
That they see me ask for forgiveness.
God’s grace doesn’t give us permission to live however we want. But as my pastor often says, the grace of Jesus is far greater than the sin in me. That truth has steadied my heart more times than I can count.
Thank you, Jesus.
I find myself in a season of transition in many areas of life. Even so, I hold this belief: the best is still to come. God has plans for me. For many years, my identity was tightly wrapped around being a business owner, a mom, an entrepreneur. None of those roles were wrong. Many of them were good and life-giving. But somewhere along the way, they became the measure of my worth.
As I sit here today, I no longer own the business that once owned every part of my being. I poured my life into it. Sweat, blood, tears. My kids are both in college now, and my role as a mom has shifted into a new normal, one that is tender and still unfolding.
I could sit here and lament the passing of former seasons, or I can choose trust.
I wonder how many of us are standing at that same crossroads
I am choosing to believe that God still has plans for me, and that He is just as present in this chapter as He was in the ones before it.
Layer by layer, God has been gently revealing how my hopes, rhythms, practices, and identity were shaped more by society’s definition of success than by His voice.
Recently, I completed a five-month women’s leadership cohort. Through required reading, I encountered the writings of John Mark Comer and Dallas Willard. Their words felt like lights being turned on in rooms I didn’t realize were dark. Another layer peeled back. Another invitation to pay attention.
We are all being formed.
The question is not if we are being formed, but by what.
We are either being formed by the world or by our Father.
I began taking an honest look at my daily, weekly, monthly, and annual rhythms. Were they transforming me into the image of Jesus, or quietly conforming me to this world? One small habit stood out immediately. Reaching for my phone before my feet even touched the floor. Emails before prayer. Noise before stillness. That habit has changed, and the shift has been meaningful.
Small practices shape us more than we realize.
No matter where you are in your life, Jesus meets you there. Not after you fix yourself. Not once you’ve figured it all out. Right there.
This morning, a dear friend texted me a prayer from Ephesians 3:15–20. It washed over me with a fresh meaning, and I offer it to you as well, wherever you find yourself today:
May His mighty power be at work within you, accomplishing infinitely more than you might ask or think.
Grace over regret. Formation over performance. Presence over perfection.
Your story is still being written.
