26 Lessons for 26 Years: Part 3 — The Final Six

Parts one and two spoke of God’s love and the lessons it taught me along the way—truths learned in quiet moments and painful seasons alike. This final part is where those lessons settled into my bones. These are not theories or ideas; they are lived realities. They are what remained after the dust settled, after the wounds began to scar, and after I realized survival was no longer the goal—living was. I pray these lessons help ground you and help you to reflect deeper as well. Its is important to remember, while these are the final lessons right now, as long as there is breath in my lungs I will learn and I will grow. So take it in grace as I am still learning, still growing, and still becoming.

Here is a recap so far

1. Treasure every moment—big or small

2. Not every good opportunity is obedience

3. Pain is not proof that God is absent

4. Gratitude is a form of seeing

5. God does not ask us to earn His approval

6. Letting go is sometimes an act of faith

7. The past holds wisdom the present often forgets

8. Small victories are still victories

9. Rest is holy resistance

10. Truth without love is noise

11. Waiting is not wasted time

12. Comparison steals joy

13. Forgive quickly and fully

14. Grief is allowed—no matter what it is

15. Don’t fear change

16. Your voice matters

17. You can step out of survival mode

18. You are never alone

19. You are allowed

20. You can be strong and weak all at once

Let's dive into the final lessons so far!

21. Healing is not linear.

I used to believe healing meant reaching a finish line—a place where the pain no longer surfaced, where my body and mind were finally “fixed,” and the past stayed buried. I know now that healing is learning how to live with the pain when it shows up, without letting it own you.

As a survivor of a burn, sexual assault, self-harm, suicidal behaviors, and mental illness, pain was once my entire world. For a long time, it dictated every decision I made. But it doesn’t have that power anymore.

Some days recently, the pain has been loud—an eight or nine out of ten—yet I still show up, still breathe, still live, and no one would ever know. Other days, I forget entirely that anything traumatic ever happened. Both days are real. Both days are healing.

Some days you’ll feel strong, grounded, and at peace. Other days old wounds will reopen without warning. That doesn’t erase your progress—it reveals how deeply you’ve lived. God does not measure healing by how little you hurt, but by how faithfully you bring your pain back to Him, again and again.

22. Blessings are abundant.

We are far more blessed than we realize.

Yes—even you who feels like you have nothing.

Yes—even you who feels like life is a constant struggle.

I am blessed with an incredible group of friends, a family who loves me, a church family that covers me, a place to call home, a car to drive, clothes to wear, food to eat, and air to breathe. None of this was guaranteed. None of it was owed to me. And yet—here I am.

Blessings don’t disappear just because life is hard. Sometimes they shine brightest inside the hardship. When you slow down enough to notice them, gratitude begins to change the way you see everything.

23. Being crazy and wild is okay.

I am wild. I am goofy. I am childlike at times—and I refuse to apologize for it.

I love jumping back into wonder, laughter, play, and fun. I love bold hair, unique outfits, expressive glasses. Joy has always been a language my soul speaks fluently. But I’ve also learned when to be serious, when to sit in silence, and when to hold space for heavier moments.

The balance matters.

Don’t make life so stoic that you lose joy—but don’t be so wild that you miss the sacred, sensitive moments either. Both are holy. Both belong.

24. Give more love than ever before.

This world is hurting. People are exhausted, broken, and battling battles we cannot see.

So give more love.

Free hugs. A smile. A high five. A compliment to a stranger. Kindness doesn’t have to cost money—but sometimes it does, and that’s okay too. Buy the coffee. Cover the groceries. Tip generously. Show up when it’s inconvenient.

Love is never wasted. It multiplies quietly. And right now, the world desperately needs more of it.

25. Find your people—and connect intentionally.

For years, I struggled to find where I belonged.

I tried theater because that’s where friends were. I loved it—and still do—but it wasn’t the place where intentional connection took root. I tried sports because friendship felt automatic there. That didn’t work either.

It wasn’t until I found my people here in Pennsylvania that I learned what real friendship looks like.

It looks like inviting people over for game nights just because you want to laugh together.

It looks like late-night conversations that wander everywhere and nowhere.

It looks like texts and calls that say, “I need help,” or simply, “I’m thinking of you.”

Intentional connection is purposeful living. Tonight, a mentor and friend told me I could come over if birthday plans fell through—just in case. That’s real connection. Being present in the dark and rejoicing in the light.

Never underestimate the power of finding your people and choosing them—again and again.

26. God has been so, so good—even when I couldn’t see it.

This is my favorite lesson of all.

Even on the days I can barely move.

Even on the days I dislike myself and the world.

Even on the days everything feels impossible.

God has been good.

I can count my blessings. I can see His favor. I can breathe. I can love. I am alive. And that alone is a miracle.

It’s amazing what God reveals when you stop striving and start remembering—when you sit back long enough to see how much He has already done

And with that, I am gently closing the chapter of 26.

Not because everything is finished or figured out—but because it’s time to step forward. These lessons have shaped me, steadied me, and carried me through. I don’t need to reread this chapter to stay here. I’ve lived it. I’ve learned it. I’m grateful for it. I cant be more thankful for each people who has come into my life all these years. You have all left a mark on these pages and I hope you continue into the future chapters.

Now I turn the page—rooted, wiser, softer, and ready.

Here’s to what comes next 🤍