Have you ever gone through a challenging time that left you wondering, “Where do I go from here?”—a moment when you felt alone, maybe even abandoned? Where people said to reach out when you need them but they don't seem to get it?
At the beginning of my burn recovery, that’s exactly how I felt. Yes, my family supported me—just like family does. But to me, it didn’t feel any different than how it should be when a parent loves you. I didn’t yet understand what it meant to have someone really cheer me on through specific struggles, especially related to what I was going through.
Whether it was a friend who would hear me as I was depressed and sit with me in it. Or the one who would rub my scars when they hurt to help me not feel so horrible. Or the one who talked to me all night because I couldn't sleep with it all going on. It all was apart of learning to be okay with getting support.
A few kids from my church unexpectedly became a beautiful source of support recently. They might be little, but their impact has been massive. One moment that stuck with me: I was holding a sweet 5-year-old girl when she looked at me and said, “I’m surprised you still have those marks on your face. I thought they’d be gone by now.” I gently replied, “They’ll be there forever. But I love them—I think they’re so cool.”
Without hesitation, she rubbed my scarred arm and smiled. “They are amazing,” she said. That kind of innocent, pure support? It’s everything.
The truth is, outside of my family and a few close friends, most people don’t know me before the burn. To them, I’ve always been the burn survivor. And please don't ever use the word, victim. That word hurts the most to me. In a way, that identity has shaped so much of how I connect with the world and I have broken free from a victim identity into a survivor identity and a thriving person who can use their story to impact the world. But what makes the biggest difference is support—genuine, consistent, heartfelt support. I couldn't have done it without God and my support network!
Knowing people are praying for me, listening to my concerns, and showing up through it all? That gives me strength I didn’t even know I had. Support is more than comfort—it’s fuel for the journey.
And now, as I approach 22 years since my burn (just 33 days away!), I want to invite YOU into something meaningful:
Let’s create an army of encouragement.
Grab a mug from the Healing A Burned Soul collection. Take a picture with it. Post it.
Tag it with #HealingABurnedSoul and share why you’re rising—with me, for someone you know, or for a cause that matters to your heart. Tag the cause. Get people talking.
Let’s use our voices and our platforms to flood the world with good.
To replace silence with stories.
To shift attention toward healing, hope, and unity—one post, one person, one step at a time.
Together, we can change the conversation.
Together, we rise. Together we can make an difference for anyone facing a difficult season that needs to know they are not alone!
