Well… we’re here now.

Our youngest has graduated college and is preparing to begin a marketing internship in less than a week. And suddenly, I find myself standing in a brand new season, learning what it means to slowly release control and trust God even deeper.

I have been a mother my entire adult life. My husband and I married young, and became parents as teenagers. So when you see us celebrating milestones like this, you are witnessing something deeper than achievement, you are witnessing the faithfulness of God over our little family.

In our early twenties, Terence and I rededicated our lives back to the Lord and made a decision to put Him first. Since then, we have had a front row seat to His perfect work, watching Him show up again and again in ways only He can.

I stand in awe!

Still, if I am honest, one of the hardest parts of motherhood is surrender. Releasing them little by little… while trusting they were never truly ours to begin with. They have always been safely held in THE FATHER’S loving hands.

So here I am…

A son graduated.  

A daughter newly married and stepping into her next chapter.  

A new season of writing, blogging, and completing my second book, while continuing to follow God’s lead and prioritize my health.

Choosing obedience. Choosing the fear of the Lord.

And even in this quiet beginning, God is still speaking. Even with only one blog post this month, we are already nearing 2,000 visits. I haven’t pushed it or promoted it heavily, yet messages of encouragement keep coming in. And I know, this is not by my strength. When God assigns it, He breathes on it.

So in this season of surrender, I will keep following His lead.  

Keeping my eyes fixed on Him.  

And sharing as He leads.

To every mother stepping into a new season, whether it’s empty nesting, releasing grown children, or simply learning to let go in new ways, you are not alone. God is with you in the shifting. He is faithful in the letting go just as much as He was in the holding on.

We are held too.

Lord, thank You for every mother reading this. Strengthen her heart in this new season. Give her peace in the releasing, trust in the unknown, and confidence that You are guiding every step of her children’s lives. Remind her that what she placed in Your hands is safer than anything she could ever control. Cover her with Your peace that surpasses understanding. In Jesus’ name, Amen!

As Mother’s Day approaches and I find myself on the verge of another family milestone, I feel the absence of my mother in a deep and tender way. It’s been six years since she passed, yet there are still moments when grief shows up quietly, unannounced, but familiar.

This time of year has a way of stirring both gratitude and ache at the same time.

I want to take a moment to honor my mother, and also celebrate mothers everywhere, especially those whose quiet sacrifices often go unseen.

I became a mother at a very young age, still learning myself while stepping into one of life’s greatest responsibilities. In many ways, I was growing up and raising children at the same time, holding on to the lessons my own mother had already planted in me.

My father passed when I was very young, around the age of four, so my mother raised me as a single mom. She was strong and steady, intentional in the way she parented. She carried wisdom, resilience, grace, and yes, like all of us, she also carried some pain.

As a young girl, she would read Scripture aloud to my great-grandmother. That love for God never left her. She introduced me to Jesus and taught me the importance of prayer. Because of her, and my great-grandmother, I always knew we were covered in prayer. Looking back, I realize those prayers became a spiritual inheritance that still carries me today.

My mother was full of wisdom. She worked hard, cooked meals from scratch, and still made time to care for others. She carried both strength and softness in the same hands.

And through it all, you never questioned whether you were loved.

I miss her smile.
I miss her touch.
I miss the way she called my name.
I miss our conversations about the Bible.

There is a kind of loss that comes from losing both parents that is hard to put into words. At times, it feels like walking through life without the covering you once knew, navigating milestones, holidays, and everyday moments without the voices that once anchored you. There are moments when it simply feels like absence.

One of the greatest gifts my mother gave me was permission to grow. She once told me:

“Take what you like that I did as a mother, and disregard the things you don’t.”

There was so much humility in that. So much grace. So much freedom in that kind of love.

So this Mother’s Day, I want to honor the quiet sacrifices of mothers everywhere, the sleepless nights, the unseen prayers, the emotional strength, the constant giving of self that so often goes unrecognized.

To every mother: you are seen. You are valued. You are appreciated more than words can express.

And to those who are missing their mothers, grieving a parent, or carrying quiet pain this season, I see you too!

May God bring comfort to your heart and remind you that love like a mother’s never truly leaves us.

We’re living in a time where you can feel it, love is not what it used to be.

The Bible said it plainly: “the love of many will grow cold.” And if we’re honest, we’re watching it happen right in front of us. People are more divided, more hardened, more quick to tear down than to build up. Everything feels louder, more chaotic… and yet somehow emptier at the same time.

Scripture already warned us about deception: “See that no one leads you astray” (Matthew 24:4).

This world is full of distractions, things designed to pull our attention away from what actually matters. And if we’re not careful, we attach ourselves to it without even realizing it.

But if you believe the Word of God, then you don’t just see chaos, you recognize the times. “You know how to interpret the appearance of the sky, but you cannot interpret the signs of the times” (Matthew 16:3). Everything unfolding should be waking us up, not lulling us to sleep.

For those of us who believe, for those of us who are watching and truly longing for Christ’s return, we are called to live differently.

Not perfectly. But intentionally.

“Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind” (Romans 12:2).

This walk is about surrender.

Not my will… but Thy will be done (Luke 22:42).

That shows up in real life, in our choices, our relationships, our reactions, our obedience. It’s not just something we say; it’s something we live.

And let me say this, because this matters just as much…

None of it means anything if we’re not being real.

Authenticity is what connects. People don’t need perfection, they need truth. They need to see what faith looks like when it’s lived out daily. The wrestle (especially with those morning workouts…. smile). The growth. The surrender.

And I’m not talking about using filters (that’s just for fun), botox, or how you wear your hair (extensions, locs, knotless braids or not – that’s just your style – do you!)… I’m talking about being real in how we relate to one another. How we show up. How we love. How we forgive. How we extend grace when it’s not easy.

“Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth” (1 John 3:18).

Being real doesn’t mean you water down truth, it means you walk it out with integrity. Quietly. Consistently. Even when no one is watching.

Because that’s what sets you apart.

In a world where love is growing cold, we’re still called to love, but not the world’s version of love. A rooted, anchored, enduring love. “And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony” (Colossians 3:14).

We also stay ready.

Not in fear, but in awareness.

“Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect” (Matthew 24:44).

That’s the posture.

Watchful. Grounded. Anchored in truth.

Because He is coming back.

And I don’t just want to say I believe that. I want my life to reflect it.

To stay ready. To stay full of faith.

That’s why this platform matters to me! Not for attention. Not to add to the noise. But to share truth. To stay rooted. To encourage anyone reading this to stay awake, stay grounded, and stay anchored in Him.

Because in the end, “the grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever” (Isaiah 40:8).

There’s something powerful about getting your rhythm back.

Not perfect. Not finished. But steady… consistent… intentional.

The goal? 3 miles each morning (add in weights three times a week). I can feel the shift—not just in my body, but in my mind. I’m more focused. More disciplined. More locked in.

And it’s not about chasing perfection. I’ve still got a ways to go. But it feels good to show up. It feels good to commit and follow through.

This year looks a little different, too. No races planned. It was all about the wedding, and it was worth every moment. Next year? We’ll see what’s in store. I’ll take it one step at a time and see if I’m ready to hit the road again. Right now… not yet.

My structure has been simple:
Monday through Friday—I’m all in.
Saturday—taking care of home, responsibilities, life.
Sunday—true rest. Reset. Restore.

And those morning posts? That’s my accountability. Not for validation, but for discipline. A reminder to myself that I showed up again.

Because here’s the truth—how we care for ourselves matters.

Scripture reminds us in 1 Corinthians 6:19-20 that our bodies are temples. That means how we move, how we fuel, how we rest—it’s all part of stewardship. And in 1 Timothy 4:8, we’re reminded that physical training has value. Not everything—but it matters.

So when I wake up early, spend time in the Word, and then push my body—it’s more than a workout. It’s alignment. Spirit, mind, and body moving together.

Self-care isn’t selfish—it’s obedience. It’s discipline. It’s preparation for what God has called us to carry.

So wherever you are in your journey—start. Start imperfect. Start tired. Start unsure. Just start.

Because something shifts when you decide to show up for yourself… consistently.

And one day you’ll look up and realize—you’re not just going through the motions anymore…

You’re locked in.

Today’s blog, I felt led to focus on marriage (as our anniversary approaches).

In this life, many of us are still learning how to navigate marriage, parenting (and the different seasons of parenting – ie young-adults/or being empty nesters), and faith. It isn’t always easy, but in my humble opinion, it is worth it with Jesus at the center.

Today’s focus is simple, yet powerful: choosing love, unity, and forgiveness, daily.

My husband and I both began in private school—he in a Christian school connected to his home church, and I in a Catholic school until second grade. That changed after my mother had a conversation with a priest whose views deeply impacted her decision to remove me from that school. I continued my education in public school (mentioned in my previous blog) in Chicago until we moved during my eighth-grade year to the suburbs. It was there, at sixteen, that I met my now-husband. Not long after, we were married and began building our family.

Like many women of faith, my story carries layers—moments of growth, challenge, and grace that have shaped how I show up in my marriage today.

The beginning of our marriage was rough. We were teenagers with a lot of growing still ahead of us. But even in the growing, God remained faithful. Taking time for each other and for God has been key. We’ve learned that overcoming obstacles, building communication, and intentionally dating each other, even in marriage, keeps love alive and rooted.

What I’ve learned is this: marriage is a place of growth. It’s where God refines us, stretches us, and teaches us how to love well, not perfectly.

With Christ at the center, He teaches us how to love our husbands with patience, to listen without defensiveness, and to respond with grace, even when it’s hard. He helps us see the good in one another and remain rooted in truth without losing compassion.

So we choose, daily:

We choose forgiveness.

We choose empathy over assumption.

We choose grace in our words and in our responses.

We choose to build, not tear down.

We choose love, not just as a feeling, but as a decision empowered by Christ.

Forgiveness doesn’t erase what happened, but it frees our hearts from carrying it. And love doesn’t ignore truth, it walks in it with grace.

As wives and women of faith, the way we love in our homes matters. It sets the tone. It creates space for healing, growth, and unity.

My prayer is that we would be women who reflect Christ well in our marriages, women who forgive, who listen, who uplift, and who love deeply.

Not perfectly.

But always rooted in Him!

At the end of the day, marriage is not about perfection—it is about perseverance, humility, and love that is continually shaped by God.

There will be moments that stretch us, and seasons that refine us, but even in those spaces, God is present, teaching us how to love better, speak softer, forgive quicker, and extend grace deeper.

As women of faith, we are not just building homes—we are cultivating environments where Christ is reflected. In how we respond. In how we forgive. In how we choose each other again and again.

And when we fall short, we are reminded that His grace fills every gap.

“So above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds us all together in perfect harmony.” — Colossians 3:14

May we continue to choose love.

May we continue to choose unity.

May we continue to choose forgiveness.

And may our marriages always point back to Him (God, Our Father).

Most of my blogs are written in advance, prayed over, then released. I do that because what I place here has to be birthed out of my relationship with God… what I hear Him saying, and my willingness to yield (surrender) as a vessel for Him to speak.

Lately, though, I am still discovering my voice again here on this platform.

I heard God say clearly: make it personal.

In the past, my blogs have often been inspired by sermons, books, and the wisdom of others. But this time, I sensed Him leading me differently. To reach certain people, I have to share parts of myself—real moments, real struggles—so others know they are not alone.

This journey isn’t always easy. Some battles are hard fought. But I believe that with Jesus, God makes life that much sweeter… even in the middle of pain.

The death of my dad—and how he died—made me angry. Deeply angry. I was 4.

Then came more loss. More grief. More questions.

It wasn’t until my early 20s that I picked up the Bible for myself and began to read it… really read it. Although, I had a difficult time understanding it at first.

My mom used to tell me stories about when I was little, how I would throw shoes at her, even locked her in the closet once. Things I don’t remember. My dad’s death impacted me, and I in return became angry, and began to move in silence.

When triggered… that anger would come rushing out. And right behind it, the tears!

There were moments when others didn’t understand me, they didn’t understand the tears. That was until my aunt (my mom’s youngest sister) said, “This is the anniversary of her dad’s death.” And to others that made sense.

Growing up on the south side of Chicago, I got into fights. I was quiet, and kept to myself – which probably made me a target. But, when faced with an opportunity to fight, I never back down. I carried that anger with me, releasing it in moments when I felt pushed or threatened.

Still quiet. Still somewhat shy. But also a young girl determined to, in her young mind, avenge a loss she didn’t fully understand.

The streets near where I lived on 79th were rough. My mom placed me in a elementary school that was outside of the district I lived in. She was a widow/single mother at the time, so I had to walk to and from school on my own. She gave me a determined path (which I would veer off of from time to time, exploring). I would walk more than ten blocks, let myself into our third-floor apartment, and sit with emotions I didn’t yet have the words to explain. I was a latchkey kid!

Looking back now, I can see it clearly…

God was keeping me.
Even then.

Through the anger.
Through the silence.
Through the fighting.
Through the tears.

And now, He’s calling me to share my story!

Because someone else needs to know—
you can come from broken places and still be made whole. You can carry anger and still find healing. You can lose, grieve, and question… and still find your way to God.

This one is personal for me!

“Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.’” – Romans 12:19

God’s transforming power is not a moment—it’s a journey. It’s found in the quiet surrender, the unseen prayers, the tears we thought no one noticed, and the healing we didn’t think was possible. He takes every broken piece, every hidden scar, every chapter we wish we could erase—and He rewrites it with purpose.

What once felt like endings were really beginnings in His hands.

I am living proof that God still restores, still redeems, still calls, and still covers. The girl who once tried to protect her heart by keeping people at a distance now understands that true safety is found in Him. The pain that once shaped my fear has now become part of my testimony. And the love I once struggled to receive, I now freely give—because of Him.

God is still writing my story. 
And He’s still writing yours.

So wherever you find yourself today—in the middle, in the waiting, or starting over again, know this: your story is not finished. His pen has not left the page. And what He is writing will be far greater than anything you could have written on your own.

Trust the Author. 
He makes all things beautiful… in His time.

“He has made everything beautiful and appropriate in its time. He has also planted eternity [a sense of divine purpose] in the human heart [a mysterious longing which nothing under the sun can satisfy, except God]—yet man cannot find out (comprehend, grasp) what God has done (His overall plan) from the beginning to the end.” – Ecclesiastes 3:11 (amplified Bible)

This Easter season has me being still, reflecting deeply on the journey, and on God’s faithfulness, His grace, and His relentless love!

There is so much to be thankful for!

Death surrounded me at an earlier age. In my little mind, I thought if I kept people at a distance, my heart would be safe. I believed that if I didn’t get too close, I wouldn’t have to feel the pain of loss again.

But that wasn’t true.

Instead of protecting my heart, I found myself living guarded. And that showed up in how I related to my mother growing up. I built walls thinking they would keep the hurt out, but they also kept healing out.

It wasn’t until I encountered Christ that everything began to change. He gently showed me that true safety isn’t found in isolation, it’s found in Him. Where I had fear, He offered peace. Where I had brokenness, He brought healing. Where I tried to control everything, He taught me how to trust.

I often think about the young girl I once was! The one who once found herself in fights on the streets of Chicago (Not ones she started), but fights none the less – not fully understanding at the time what was covering her.

Looking back now, I know it was the prayers of my mother and my great-grandmother that carried me and brought me safely home. And when I found Jesus for myself, everything changed. God met me right where I was! That’s My Testimony…

Little by little, He began to soften my heart, reminding me that love, real love, always carries risk, but in Him, it also carries hope! I am no longer guarded, because I have placed my life is in His hands.

What I once thought would protect me was actually holding me back. But through Christ, I’ve found a deeper kind of safety, one that doesn’t depend on circumstances, but on His presence.

I rededicated my life back to the Lord in my early 20s (really, it felt like the first time – because this time, I did it knowing just how much I needed Him). My husband and I had been married since our teen years, and we had no clue as to what we were doing! We found a church home, our first church home together and we sat under the word for more than a year. Allowing the Lord to do a work. Being a part of that church, and surrounded by those people truly changed our lives. It was a place that was rooted in holiness, where the Word of God was preached with power, and the move of the Holy Spirit was undeniable.

I was surrounded by strong, faith-filled women who; encouraged, uplifted, and strengthened one another in the Lord.

I sat under that anointing until one day, the Lord stirred something in me again, He called me back to sing.

I joined the choir, and week after week, the Word washed over me through music and song. The worship was intentional, songs grounded in Scripture, carrying truth and power.

I was on fire for God! And, not long after, the Lord placed something on my heart; to begin writing letters… sharing my faith. And that’s exactly what I did.

Shortly after, my husband’s job moved us to a new state. We had been at that church for a number of years, and I remain so grateful for that season.

Those early years weren’t easy. If I’m honest, I sometimes focused more on the naysayers than I should have. My focus was off—and it affected how I saw things.

He still surrounded us with people who were invested in our spiritual growth and in the health of our family.

Those letters I once wrote?

They became the early version of this blog.

And, that blog turned into my 1st book.

My passions have always been clear:

• Ministering the Gospel through song
• Sharing my faith through the written word

And here I am… doing both again.

Last month alone, nearly 5,000 unique visitors came to the site. People reached out. They shared their stories.

And in those moments, I was reminded… This isn’t about me. This is for Him, the One my soul loves.

Nothing matters more than my relationship with Him.

Those quiet moments, just me and Him, moving in harmony, are everything.

In my quiet time, the Lord reminded me of something deeper: Our need for Him.

Not just in the obvious ways, but in how we see others.

we don’t just celebrate Easter, we live it.

His sacrifice did more than save me, it began transforming me. I can see the evidence of that transformation in my everyday life through the fruit of the Spirit. As it says in The Bible, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

I have learned what it means to truly love His people. Not just the easy ones, but even those who have hurt me or misunderstood me. God has softened my heart and continues to teach me how to love the way He loves.

He has replaced sorrow with joy. Even in moments where grief could have taken over, especially when reflecting on the death of my mother, I am reminded that because He got up, death does not have the final say. That truth has filled my heart with a deep, unshakable joy. I will see my mother again.

This Easter Season…

• Let’s not miss it.
• Let’s focus on the God of the Bible.
• Let’s be His hands and feet.
• Let’s be a witness.
• Let’s love people the way He loves us.

Because, “He got up!” That changed everything. And for that… I am completely in awe.

The goal is to dedicate at least one blog a month to “My Fitness Journey.”

This month has been tough. My focus hasn’t been where I wanted it to be when it comes to fitness.

Spring Breaks, a house full of people, and plenty of fun activities filled the calendar.

And if I’m really telling the truth, the biggest disruption was the time change. For some reason, this one hit harder than usual. My mornings started later, my rhythm felt off, and it just took more effort to get going.

Now, I did stay somewhat intentional with my eating. Not perfect—there were definitely a few moments where a piece of candy (or two) slipped in, but overall, I stayed mindful. Still, I don’t have much of a fitness update to give this time around.

But instead of forcing something that’s not there, I’m choosing to follow what God placed on my heart to share.

Recently, I was asked a question during our Table Topics discussion at Toastmasters around the idea of “spring cleaning,” not the kind involving closets or garages.

The question was something like:

What would you do to clean up a situation where something you said caused a misunderstanding?

That one made me pause.

Because the truth is, misunderstanding is inevitable.

People interpret what we say through the lens of their own experiences, upbringing, and current circumstances. It’s subjective. What you meant and what they heard don’t always align.

And if we’re not careful, those gaps in understanding can create distance.

But I’ve learned this:

The people who truly care will seek clarity.

But that was not the question. The question was, how would I clean it up?

Scripture teaches us that if there’s an issue with a brother or sister, we should go directly to them. Not around them. Not about them. But to them. There’s wisdom in addressing things at the source instead of letting assumptions grow roots.

That takes humility.

That takes courage.

And honestly, it takes maturity.

My answer would be to ask questions, reflect on where I may not have communicated clearly, and then do the work to make it right by bringing clarity.

I’m reminded of a powerful book by Greg Holder called The Genius of One.

At its core, the book is about learning how to truly see and relate to one another in emotionally and spiritually healthy ways, so that we, as the church, can fulfill Jesus’ prayer for us and model a better way of loving one another in a fractured world.

Instead of trying to manage perceptions broadly or fix everything at once, we’re called to lean into individual relationships with intentionality. When misunderstandings happen, the goal isn’t to win, it’s to understand and to restore.

The book highlights how meaningful it is to slow down, to truly listen, and to value people. That mindset is instrumental in learning how to get along, not just on the surface, but in a way that builds trust and unity.

Because at the end of the day, relationships aren’t sustained by being right, they’re sustained by being willing.

So while my fitness journey this month may not reflect discipline in the way I planned…

There is still growth happening.

Growth in patience.

Growth in communication.

Growth in choosing connection over assumption.

And maybe that’s a different kind of strengthening.

The kind that doesn’t show up in the mirror, but shows up in how we love, how we listen, and how we show up for one another.

Because at the end of the day, a healthy life isn’t just about physical endurance…

It’s about emotional and spiritual maturity too.

And this month, that’s where the real work happened.

So no! This wasn’t my strongest month in fitness.

But it was a month of becoming.

And I’m learning that every part of the journey counts. #Faith #Family #Fitness

What I am learning more and more in this season of my life is that God’s timing is perfect, even when it doesn’t make sense to us.

Sometimes we pray for open doors. But we rarely thank God for the closed ones.

Closed doors are not always rejection. Often, they are protection, preparation, or redirection.

Scripture reminds us:

“To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.” — Book of Ecclesiastes 3:1

There is a time to plant.

A time to wait.

And a time for God to say, “Now.”

Looking back, I can see that the delays were not wasted time. They were formation time. God was shaping my heart, refining my faith, and reminding me that this platform is not about me — it is all about Him.

Closed Doors Matter Too

We often celebrate open doors because they feel like victory. But closed doors are just as important in our walk with God.

Closed doors teach us:

• Patience

• Trust

• Obedience

• Dependence on God rather than our own plans

In Proverbs 16:9 we are reminded: “A man’s heart plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps.”

I planned.

I worked.

But ultimately, God directed the timing. And when God says it is time, the door that once would not budge suddenly opens.

This blog was birthed from a deep desire within me: to share my faith and point people to Jesus.

My heart is simple. I want to be a witness.

Not quietly.

Not timidly.

But boldly.

I want to proclaim to anyone who will listen how important it is to give your life over to God. The world is full of voices telling people where to place their hope. But the truth is that real hope is only found in Christ.

This past week, our house was full.

Young people filled the rooms. Conversations echoed through the house. Laughter, questions, stories, and moments of real connection stretched for hours. We simply spent time together — building community, being present, and allowing the Lord to have His way in the middle of it all.

And in that moment, something became clear to me.

God was showing me something deeper about this season.

He was confirming to me that this house (our house) is meant to be a safe place!

A place where people can come and rest.

A place where young people can feel seen and heard.

A place where the presence of God is welcome.

Not because everything is perfect here. But because He is here.

It reminded me of the words of Jesus in *Gospel of Matthew 25:35:

“I was a stranger and you invited me in.”

Sometimes ministry doesn’t happen on a stage. Sometimes it happens around a kitchen table, in a living room, or late at night in honest conversation.

And as the Lord leads, I want this home to remain a place where people can lay their head, find peace, and encounter God’s love.

With Easter approaching, I am reminded of something even deeper — the Good News of the Gospel. Easter is not just a holiday. It is the foundation of our faith.

The Good News is this: God loved us so much that He sent His Son, Jesus, to save us.

Jesus lived a sinless life, died on the cross for our sins, and three days later He rose from the grave. Through His death and resurrection, we are offered forgiveness, new life, and the promise of eternity with God.

Scripture says in *Gospel of John 3:16:

“For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.”

That is the Good News.

No matter your past.

No matter your mistakes.

No matter how far you think you’ve wandered.

Grace is available.

Hope is available.

New life is available.

And that message is exactly why sharing our faith matters so much.

At the center of my heart is a passion to reach people for Jesus!  #KingdomBuilder

    To reach the unreached.

    To tell the untold.

Scripture says in Proverbs 11:30:

“He who wins souls is wise.”

Soul winning is not about arguments or perfect words.

It is about sharing the love and truth of Jesus.

Sometimes that happens through a conversation.

Sometimes through kindness.

And sometimes through something as simple as a blog post that reaches someone at the exact moment they need it.

This, “A Journal of Love,” Is My Act of Obedience!

Why Now?

Starting this blog again is not about popularity, numbers, or recognition.

• It is about obedience. It is about following God’s lead, even when I don’t know who will read it or where it will go.

• It is about trusting that if God placed this on my heart, then He also has a purpose for it.

The apostle *Paul the Apostle wrote in *First Letter to the Corinthians 3:6:

“I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God has been making it grow.”

That verse reminds me of something powerful: My job is simply to plant the seed. God handles the harvest. Step by Step

Faith rarely unfolds in giant leaps.

More often, it unfolds step by step.

One act of obedience.

One moment of courage.

One story shared.

This blog is simply my next step.

• A step of faith.
• A step of obedience.
• A step toward making a difference in someone’s life.

If even one person finds hope, encouragement, or truth through these words, then every delay, every closed door, and every moment of waiting will have been worth it.

Because in the end, it was never about why it didn’t happen sooner.

It was always about God saying, “Now.”

Closing Prayer

Lord,

Thank You for reminding us that Your timing is perfect. Help us trust You in the waiting seasons and recognize Your hand even when doors close. Give us the courage to share our faith boldly and the humility to follow wherever You lead. Use our homes, our words, and our lives as a witness so that others may come to know Your love and truth. Step by step, guide us into Your purpose.

Amen.

Important to Note: “Never be afraid to share your story – your obedience could be someone else’s breakthrough!” This is Me being intentional/sharing my story through; “A Journal of Love!” #LivingSurrendered #FollowingHisLead #EachOneReachOne #Faith #Family #Fitness

There is something sacred about surrender.

And if I’m honest, something incredibly hard about it too.

Surrender sounds beautiful in theory — laying our lives before Jesus, trusting His plan, believing His ways are higher than ours. But the real test of surrender shows up in the places that matter most to us.

The places where our hearts are deeply invested.

For many of us, that place is our children.

When our kids are little, surrender looks different. We guide them, protect them, shape their routines and decisions. We pray over scraped knees, school choices, and friendships.

But something shifts when they become adults.

Suddenly, the hands we once held begin to make their own choices. Their paths become their own. And as parents, we step into a new and unfamiliar space — one where love remains just as strong, but control fades away.

And if I’m honest… that can be hard.

Lately, I’ve been standing in one of those sacred seasons of watching.

Just recently, I stood on a beach and watched my daughter get married. The waves rolled in behind them as they promised forever, and I found myself overwhelmed with gratitude. I remembered the little girl she once was… and now here she was stepping into a new season of her life.

And now, another moment is around the corner. Soon I’ll be sitting in a crowd watching my another one of my son walk across a stage to receive his bachelor’s degree.

More milestones.

More adulting.

More moments where I realize my role has shifted again.

There are decisions they will make. Paths they will take. Lessons they will learn that I can’t control or script for them.

And in these spaces, God keeps whispering the same truth to my heart:

“Trust Me with them.”

Not just the easy parts.

Not just the things that make sense.

All of it.

Because surrender isn’t only about laying down our plans.

Sometimes it’s about laying down our worry.

It’s about trusting that the same God who loves my children more than I ever could is the One guiding their story.

There are moments when I want to fix things.

Moments when I want to protect them from every hard lesson.

Moments when I wish I could steer their decisions just a little bit.

But that’s not the role God has given me anymore.

Instead, He’s teaching me a new posture:

Hands off. Eyes on Jesus.

Hands off the outcomes.

Hands off the timelines.

Hands off the need to control the story.

Eyes on Jesus — the One who loves them more than I ever could.

There are days when surrender looks like prayer.

Quiet prayers whispered when no one else hears them.

“Lord, they are yours.”

“Lead them.”

“Protect them.”

“Draw them close to you.”

The truth is, surrender is not weakness.

It’s worship.

It’s choosing to believe that God’s plans are better than my own understanding. It’s trusting that even when I cannot see the full picture, He is faithfully working behind the scenes.

Sometimes the most powerful thing we can do as parents of adult children is not control… but pray.

Not force… but trust.

Not worry… but release.

Each day I’m learning again what it means to say:

“Lord, not my will, but Yours.”

Over my plans.

Over my family.

Over the people I love most.

Surrender isn’t something we do once.

It’s something we choose daily.

And the beautiful thing is this — every time we release something into God’s hands, we find peace waiting there.

Because His hands are far more capable than ours.

And His love for our children is even greater than our own.

So today, I surrender again.

My worries.

My hopes.

My need to control the story.

And I trust the Author who is still writing it!

A Prayer of Surrender

Lord,

Thank You for the gift of being their mother.

For every season… from scraped knees and bedtime prayers to weddings, graduations, and all the beautiful “adulting” moments in between.

You entrusted these lives to me for a time, but they have always belonged to You.

Today I lay down the weight of trying to control what was never mine to carry. I release the timelines, the outcomes, and the worries that sometimes fill my heart.

Teach me to trust You more.

Guide their steps when I cannot.

Protect their hearts when I am not there.

Draw them closer to You in every season of their lives.

And Lord, when my heart wants to hold on too tightly, remind me that Your plans for them are greater than anything I could imagine.

Help me walk this season with faith, peace, and open hands.

Hands off the things I cannot control.

Eyes fixed on You.

Amen.