In 2017, my world turned upside down…
My husband and I had just stepped into a new season as lead pastors, installed by my parents, who had faithfully led and nurtured our church for 34 years. It was a transition filled with hope, excitement, and expectation. But little did I know, life was about to take us on a journey we could have never prepared for.
That year, my mom—our rock and the most resilient woman I knew—was in remission from brain cancer. But in August, we received devastating news: the cancer had returned, and this time, it was unrelenting. Just as we began to process this blow, Hurricane Harvey hit, flooding not only our church but also the home where I grew up. Twelve inches of water sat stagnant for days, soaking into spaces that carried so many memories.
As the waters receded, we rolled up our sleeves and got to work. Day by day, we poured ourselves into recovery—gutting walls, clearing debris, and trying to rebuild what had been so suddenly taken from us. But even as the pieces began to come together physically, I felt myself unraveling emotionally.
Months passed. My mom traveled to California for treatment, while I buried myself in editing wedding galleries. I was knee-deep in deadlines, but also in depression. Life felt heavy, and I was stuck. Then, out of nowhere, God made a way for me to travel to New York City—a place I had only dreamed of visiting.
I went alone, staying with someone I had met on Facebook but had never met in person. It was a risk, but one that felt necessary. On my last night there, I remember following the lights that led me to Times Square. Huge snowflakes began falling, backlit by the bright, dazzling glow of the signs. It was magical, surreal even, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt alive. That moment reminded me that stepping out in faith, even when you’re scared, is where growth happens.
We’d been believing in faith for my mom’s healing. We know God is the healer, and His will is for people to be healed. We prayed fervently, holding on to promises of restoration. But as time went on, it seemed like she had given up. Watching her lose that fight was devastating in ways I can’t fully express.
As 2018 began, we clung to hope. But by April, the doctors told us there was nothing more they could do. My mom went on hospice, and I found myself navigating a grief I’d never experienced before. I didn’t know how to process it, so I didn’t. I just kept going—not fully living but maintaining, showing up, and doing what was necessary to help my dad, my friends, and those around me who were grieving too.
She passed away in July of that year. I didn’t start that podcast I’d dreamed about. I didn’t write the blog I’d been planning. Who wants to launch something new when the person you love most is gone?
But the truth is, I didn’t feel adequate. I had pushed my emotions down so far that I couldn’t even find them anymore. For years, I stayed in survival mode. Then, in 2024, something shifted. I finally began to let myself feel again—to grieve, to reflect, and to let Jesus into the places I’d tried to shut off.
It hasn’t been easy, but it’s been necessary. And it’s still ongoing. This blog is part of that journey—part of finding confidence in faith, friendships, and motherhood. It’s not about having it all figured out; it’s about showing up anyway, trusting that God is doing a new thing even when we can’t see it.
So, here I am, finally taking the leap. If you’ve ever felt inadequate, overwhelmed, or just plain scared to start something, I hope you’ll join me on this journey in finding confidence. Let’s figure it out together.
Because life isn’t about staying in the safety of what’s known. It’s about trusting God, stepping into the unknown, and finding Him in every step.