Humbled and Honored

I was driving home from the award ceremony, sitting in a quiet moment, just talking to God. Not a big, polished prayer—just something real: “Lord… is this the beginning of something? If it is, would You just show me?”

Not even a minute later, I glanced over—and there they were. Not one, but two bald eagles soaring above me.

If you know me, you know God has used eagles to speak to my heart in very specific moments. And in that instant, I just knew. Not because of what I saw, but because of when I saw it. The stillness, the timing, the way everything aligned—it felt like a whisper straight to my soul: *I’m here. I’ve always been here. And I always will be.*

And seeing two… it stirred something deeper in me. A quiet reminder that God doesn’t just meet us where we are—He exceeds what we even know to ask for. I have been begging, bleeding, crying out for a few specific things lately and this reminded me that the Lord is more abundant in His blessings and it will come. He answers in ways that feel personal, intentional, and undeniable when you’re paying attention.

As I kept driving, I realized I was on a road I’ve traveled so many times over the past four years. The same road to work, to my host family’s home, to the prayer room, to friends who became family. And all at once, it hit me—every step, every season, every place… it was Him.

He was in the unfamiliar, somehow making it feel like home. He was in the waiting, even when I thought nothing was happening. He was in the breaking, doing a deeper work I couldn’t yet see. What felt random back then… wasn’t random at all. What felt uncertain… was actually being guided the entire time.

Because the truth is, these past few months have been heavy in ways I haven’t always shown.

I’ve shed more tears than most people have seen. I’ve grieved things I didn’t even realize were still sitting in my heart. I’ve felt the weight of stress—bills, responsibilities, life—press in on me in ways I never anticipated having to carry. There have been quiet moments where everything felt uncertain, where I didn’t have answers, where I just had to sit in the tension of not knowing what was next.

And yet… even there, God has been present.

Not always loudly. Not always in ways that made immediate sense. But slowly, gently, faithfully—He’s been redeeming it all. Piece by piece. Layer by layer.

I’m learning that growth doesn’t always look like strength on the outside. Sometimes it looks like surrender. Like trusting when you don’t understand. Like choosing to keep going when everything in you feels stretched thin. Sometimes growth looks like breaking before becoming, like being stripped of what you thought you needed so God can show you what you actually do.

And I’m learning this too—when the battle feels intense, it’s often because something meaningful is being birthed. There is purpose in the pressure, even when it doesn’t feel like it in the moment.

Even now, I can see glimpses of that. Opportunities I didn’t create. Doors I couldn’t have opened. Moments that feel too aligned to be coincidence. The podcast interview, this award, the blog reaching people, the small beginnings that are slowly turning into something more… it’s all unfolding in ways only God could write.

My prayers aren’t fully answered yet. But I can see the buds. I can see the beginnings of fruit forming. And that’s enough to remind me that He’s working, even in the waiting.

I know this deeply—I’m not anything special on my own. But I serve a God who is. And today wasn’t just about receiving an award. It was about witnessing what God can do with a willing heart. It was about seeing that He can take the overlooked, the broken, the outcast, and raise them into something they never imagined. It was a reminder that the enemy hasn’t won—and won’t win.

More than anything, it was about giving God the glory for every single part of this.

To represent myself is one thing. To represent my church is an honor. But to represent my Lord… that humbles me in a way I don’t even have words for.

I am incredibly grateful to have been recognized at the Lebanon Valley Chamber of Commerce’s Third Annual Emerging Leaders Award Ceremony, alongside so many inspiring leaders. To be one of the 20 recipients is something I don’t take lightly. I’m especially honored to represent Lifeway Church in this way. And I didn’t get here alone.

To my mentors, friends, and leaders—thank you for seeing something in me when I couldn’t see it myself. To Pastor Renee, for continually calling me higher. To the leaders who welcomed a random girl from Iowa and helped shape her into who she is today. To my friends who have walked beside me through every high and low. And to my family, who never stopped believing in me—thank you.

This moment doesn’t feel like an arrival. It feels like a beginning. Like something is shifting beneath the surface, something is growing, something is being built that I can’t fully see yet.

And whether you believe in God or you’re still figuring that out, I think we all experience moments like this—moments that feel bigger than us. Moments where things align in ways we can’t quite explain. Moments where, somehow, our pain starts to take on purpose.

My life motto has become this: *If my pain can change one person’s life, it was all worth it.*

Because the truth is, we are all shaping the world every single day. In how we speak, how we love, how we show up, how we choose to keep going.

So the question isn’t whether we’ll make an impact—it’s what kind of impact we’ll make.

Will we leave the world better… or worse than we found it?

For me, I’ve made my decision. I will make it better.

And this—this is only the beginning. I feel it in my spirit, I see it in the small things, I trust it even when I don’t fully understand it yet.

A double portion is coming.

And my prayer now is simple:

Here I am, Lord.

Open heart. Open hands. Open mind.

I’m ready for whatever You call me into.