I do not even know how to write this.

I keep staring at my phone like somehow the news is going to change. Like maybe I misunderstood. Like maybe if I read the message again, it will say something different.

But it does not.

Someone I loved is gone.

I am not going to share his name here. Some people and some stories are too sacred to lay out fully for the world. But I can say this: he was family to me. Not by blood, but by love. By showing up. By being there. By becoming part of the holidays, the hard days, the ordinary days, and the moments that no one else even knew about.

There comes a point when understanding yourself stops being a tool for growth and starts becoming a shield.

It's easy to say, "I'm struggling." It's easy to say, "I'm learning about myself." Those things may be true. They may even explain why someone reacts the way they do. But understanding yourself was never meant to become permission to hurt the people around you.

There is a difference between an explanation and an excuse.

I believe in mental health. I believe in counseling, medication, healing, and giving people room to grow. I believe some battles are invisible, and the people fighting them deserve compassion, encouragement, and hope.

I also believe that healing carries responsibility.

Knowing why you react a certain way should inspire you to

Dear Readers,

I’ve been thinking a lot about strength lately. It came up while helping my daughter prepare for a retreat talk, and it got me reflecting on my own life. Strength and endurance are connected, but they are not the same thing.

Strength shows up in a moment. It’s the courage you find when life hits fast, a tough conversation, a decision you’ve been avoiding, or just keeping it together when everything feels overwhelming. Strength helps you stand.

“I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me” (Philippians 4:13 KJV). I lean on that verse when I need help right then, not tomorrow or next week, but in that very moment. That is what strength looks like.

Endurance is

God Speaks Our Language

On a recent Sunday morning at church, we were graced with the presence of a missionary who shared a powerful and moving story. His talk was filled with inspiring accounts of the amazing work being done and the incredible things happening around the world. Yet, amidst all these wonderful stories, one particular moment stood out to me profoundly: the realization of a woman who said, “God speaks our language.”

Imagine living your life feeling as though the divine is distant, unable to fully understand your unique voice, culture, and heart. And then, in a moment of