George Bailey was Onto Something
Somewhere between unanswered texts, sitting on bleachers at volleyball games, and wondering why spiritual growth always seems to come wrapped in suffering, I found myself asking a quiet but unsettling question: Does it matter that I’m here? This post is about feeling invisible in the spaces that matter most—at home, at work, in faith—and the reminder that our worth was never meant to be measured by how needed we are, but by how deeply we are loved.
What If I’m Not Done Yet?
There’s a moment—somewhere between your third or fourth reinvention—where you start to ask yourself a very uncomfortable question: Am I evolving… or do I just not know how to stay put? This is a story about what it costs to keep starting over… and what it might mean if you’re not done yet.
You Will Be the Villain Somewhere
This week taught me something I didn’t necessarily want to learn — but probably needed to.
I found myself reading words and sitting in conversations that quietly reframed my judgment and my values in a way that didn’t match my heart at all. Decisions I had made thoughtfully and conservatively were being interpreted as careless. Standards I believed were kid-centered and appropriate were described as questionable. And for a moment, I felt it — that tightening in my chest when you realize you are being cast in a role you never auditioned for.
Lonely Doesn’t Mean Broken
Loneliness doesn’t always announce itself loudly. Sometimes it slips in quietly, even when life looks full from the outside. Full calendars. Full rooms. Full conversations. And yet, beneath all of that, there’s an ache that doesn’t quite go away. I’ve learned this week that loneliness doesn’t mean something is broken. Often, it means something has shifted—and I’m still learning how to stand where I am now.