Healing a Burned Soul

Shalom… and welcome. It has been over 100 posts since I welcomed people so I wanted to jump back. Not just to words on a page, but to something I believe the Lord Himself has breathed into existence. Before anything else is said, let this be clear—this space, these words, this story… none of it belongs to me. Every ounce of it is the Lord’s. Every piece of healing, every moment of endurance, every breath that carried me here is a testimony of His mercy, not my strength. For y

Dear Band Instructors, Choir Directors, and Theater Directors, Thank you for calling out the loves that lived deep within me— not because of my survivor story, but in spite of it. There is a part of my story I do not always know how to tell. The part where I walked into rooms already feeling seen for the wrong reasons. Where I carried the quiet weight of being watched, measured, or misunderstood— and so I chose, more often than I’d like to admit, to shrink. To sit in the back

I am 1 week away from celebrating 23 years of being a survivor—and all that has been given through this journey. So for the next week, I’m honoring 23 groups of people who have carried pieces of this story with me. Maybe these are just my words—but if they echo something in your own life, share them with your people too. Whether you’ve survived something life-altering, or you’re simply surviving each day—this is for the ones who stood beside you. These will be raw. Honest. Gr