(A reflection on loss, love, and the gift of life) The night before my brother died, I wrote about how beautiful and fragile life is. I didn’t know it then, but my heart was writing me a message for the days that would follow.” 🌿 A reflection on loss, faith, and the quiet grace of continuing to choose joy. On April 21, 2023, I wrote a piece that began, “Life is messy — oh, but God, it’s beautiful.”  I didn’t know it then, but I was writing to my own soul. The very next morn

When we live in fear of what others will think — of our choices, our lifestyle, what we do or don’t do — we quietly hand over the reins of our life. Instead of following the path meant for us, we begin living a version of life that’s designed to make someone else proud, comfortable, or content. The trouble with that is it disregards our  comfort. Sure, there’s a temporary sense of peace in knowing you’re keeping others happy — but it’s a false peace. Because those same people

Recently, I listened to an Oprah conversation about family estrangement — the quiet, aching kind that so many families carry silently. She spoke about the loneliness of it, the confusion, the hope, and the unexpected ways people sometimes find their way back to one another. Her words stirred something deep in me, because I know that path. I’ve walked it tenderly, and I’ve healed from it. In April of 2022, my relationship with both of my children went silent. What followed wer

Counting the sins of others doesn’t make you a saint—it makes you forget your own work toward goodness.