Finding Freedom in Surrender

“For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.”  Matthew 16:25

I used to read that and think I understood it. I thought it meant something bold and dramatic—like dying for your faith, being a martyr, giving everything in one defining moment. But the truth is, I didn’t understand it at all.

Not until something cracked open in me.

I was watching Like Dandelion Dust, and for whatever reason, that verse didn’t feel distant anymore. It felt personal. It felt like it was reaching right into my life and gently—but firmly—asking:

What are you holding onto that’s costing you everything?  That question undid me.

If I’m being honest, before my walk with the Lord, I wasn’t really living—I was performing. Chasing. Grasping. Constantly trying to prove that I was worthy of being seen, loved, admired.

Most people would have said I was a good person. Maybe by the world’s standards, I checked the boxes. But inside,  I was tangled up in sin that looked a lot like insecurity, pride, and desperation for approval.

I lived for the world.

I found value in the cars, the houses, the people I knew, anything that could reflect back to me that I mattered. My identity was fragile, constantly shifting depending on who affirmed me that day.

One moment I felt untouchable… like I was shining so brightly no one could look away. And the next, I felt so small I didn’t even think I deserved to exist in the same space as others.

It was exhausting.

And it led me down roads I’m not proud of, places where I had no boundaries, where I let people take advantage of my need to be wanted. And when those situations left me feeling empty or ashamed, I didn’t stop. I spiraled.

Because shame doesn’t quiet you, it chases you.

Somehow, even in the middle of all that, I still managed to look like I had it all together on the outside. Strong, confident, the one who didn’t need anyone. But I needed everyone.

I remember someone once told me I was like the sun, that they lived just to bask in my light.  I held onto that like it was truth, like it defined me. I thought, this is it, this is who I am. But that kind of identity is a trap. Because when you believe you need to be someone’s sun, you also believe you’ll disappear when they stop looking for your light. Qhen that happened, I fell hard.

Looking back now, I don’t feel disgust as much as I feel grief. Grief for the version of me who thought she had to be everything to everyone just to feel like she was something. Grief for the girl who kept saying, “I just need to find a soft place to land,” not realizing how heavy that ask really was, because no human being was ever meant to carry that.

And then, slowly, gently, God showed me something different. I don’t need to find a soft place to land. I already have one, in Him, and it changed everything. Not overnight, not perfectly but deeply.

Now, about the dandelions…

Most people see them as weeds, something unwanted, something to pull out and throw away. But they’re resilient. Purposeful, beautiful in a way that’s easy to miss if you’re not really looking, because when a dandelion reaches the end of its life, it doesn’t just disappear.

It releases. It lets go of everything it was holding onto and trusts the wind. In that surrender, it multiplies.

That’s what this verse means.

“Losing your life” isn’t about one big, heroic moment, it’s about a thousand quiet surrenders. It’s about laying down your ego, your pride, your need to control, your craving for approval, over and over again. It’s about dying to the version of yourself that the world built and allowing God to rebuild you into something real. Something rooted, something free.

I won’t pretend it’s easy. Some days it’s a moment-by-moment choice. Some days that old voice is loud. The one that says, you need to be seen, you need to be validated, you need to be more.

But then I remember:

“My yoke is easy and my burden is light.” — Matthew 11:30

 I feel the difference, because the life I was carrying before was crushing me.  This new life is full.  I don’t wake up wondering who will make me feel worthy. I wake up asking how I can love someone well. I don’t search for comfort in people. I rest in the One who never leaves. I don’t need to be the sun, I just need to reflect His light.

And the joy in that… it’s hard to even put into words. It’s steady. It’s deep. It doesn’t disappear the moment someone looks away.

So yes… I finally understand.

To lose your life is to let go of everything that was never truly life to begin with. It’s to trust that in the letting go, God will do something far more beautiful than anything you could have held onto.

I am a dandelion.

Still learning. Still surrendering. Still being carried.

And for the first time in my life…

I’m not afraid of where the wind might take me. 🌼

Hearing Him In the Quiet

During my journey with the Lord, I’ve come to realize something deeply personal—He speaks to each of us differently.

If I’m being honest, there was a time I felt a quiet kind of jealousy watching my husband’s relationship with God. The Lord speaks to him so clearly, so boldly. There’s no question when it happens.

And then there was me… waiting, wondering, straining to hear anything at all.

I started to question myself.
Was I doing something wrong?
Was I not praying enough? Not praying the “right” way?
Why did it feel like everyone else could hear him… but me?

But God, in his gentle and patient way, showed me something I’ll never forget:
Just like any loving Father, he speaks to his children in different ways.

That truth didn’t come to me in a quiet, peaceful moment.
It came in the middle of grief.

In the days following the loss of my friend Beth, I felt like I was unraveling. Her passing shook me in a way I wasn’t prepared for. Truthfully, I haven’t experienced much loss in my life, and the previous  times I did, I avoided it completely. I buried it in work, distraction—anything to not feel it.

And I was ready to do that again.

I had volunteered to help set up for a big church event that day. I remember walking in, focused on the task, already trying to outrun what I didn’t want to face. I was looking for one of the women from Bible study, but instead I found Pastor Rick.

He didn’t know how close Beth and I were.
He didn’t know what his words would do.

And just like that… everything stopped.

The news hit me harder than I expected, and I didn’t handle it well. My heart broke right there in that moment, and I remember feeling almost embarrassed by how deeply it affected me. I even felt bad for him—for being the one to say it out loud.

But still, I tried to pull it together. I told myself, just keep moving. Stay busy. Don’t feel it. Not now.

And that’s when God stepped in.

“Not today.”

Instead of continuing on with setup, I found myself walking into the Bible Study. I didn’t plan it. I didn’t think about it. I was just… led there.

And within 30 minutes of hearing the news, I was sitting in a circle of women—crying, remembering, sharing stories about Beth. We spoke about her laughter, her kindness, the light she carried so effortlessly into every room.

There was so much pain in that room… but there was also so much love.

And somehow, in the middle of all that heartbreak, I felt held.

I went home that night still grieving, but no longer running from it. There was a peace I couldn’t explain—a quiet steadiness that told me I wasn’t alone in it.

The next morning, my dad sent me a YouTube song like he always does. Usually it’s something from Joe Bonamassa or Eric Clapton. But this time, it was “All My Tears Be Washed Away.”

What made it even more meaningful… he had no idea Beth had passed.

I just sat there, listening, and felt the weight of it. Not overwhelming—but comforting. Like a hand resting gently on my shoulder.

That was Him.

Not loud.
Not overwhelming.
But unmistakably present.

In the days that followed, the Lord didn’t take the grief away—but he walked me through it. He gave me space to feel it, but also surrounded me with exactly what I needed. He led me to Psalm 77, where sorrow and faith sit side by side—where questioning and remembering God’s goodness somehow coexist.

And little by little, I began to see it…

He had been speaking to me all along.

Through people.
Through timing.
Through songs I didn’t expect.
Through Scripture that met me exactly where I was.

As it says:

“My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me.” — John 10:27

He is always speaking.

I just wasn’t recognizing his voice because I was expecting it to sound different.

Now I understand—some of his children need the thunder.
Others… need the whisper.

And there is something so tender, so deeply personal, about being spoken to in a whisper.

So if you’re in a season where you feel like you can’t hear him…
maybe he’s not absent.

Maybe he’s just being gentle with you.

Slow down.
Be still.
Let yourself feel, instead of run.

You may find that in the quiet, in the spaces you once tried to avoid…

He’s been there the whole time.

Stepping Into the Sunshine

A couple of weeks ago, we were given a glimpse of something we had almost forgotten.

After a long, cold winter, a few beautiful days arrived like a quiet gift. The kind where you could step outside with just a light jacket—or none at all—and feel completely unencumbered. The air didn’t bite at your skin. The sun didn’t just shine; it warmed you. It felt like it reached all the way through to your bones, waking something up that had been dormant for far too long.

Even the simplest things felt different. Doing chores outside was no longer a battle against the elements. Without bulky coats and stiff gloves, you could move freely. There was ease. There was joy. There was lightness.

And then, just as quickly, the cold came back.

The biting wind returned. The heaviness of layers. The resistance in every movement. Suddenly, everything felt harder again. What had briefly been effortless became a struggle.

And standing there in the cold, I couldn’t help but think—this is exactly what my life used to feel like.

Before I found God, life felt like winter… all the time.

Everything was harder than it needed to be. I felt alone, like I had to fight for every inch of progress. Approval from others became something I chased constantly, hoping it would fill a void I couldn’t quite name. It was exhausting. But at the time, I didn’t know anything different. I thought that was just what life was—heavy, cold, and something to endure rather than enjoy.

Then, everything changed.

Finding Jesus didn’t just shift my perspective—it transformed my entire experience of life. It was like stepping out of that endless winter and into the warmth of the sun for the very first time.

I feel free now in a way I can hardly put into words. The constant striving is gone. The loneliness has been replaced with a deep, steady presence. I no longer look to the world for approval—I look to the Lord, and in Him, I have already found it.

But it didn’t stop there.

Through Him, I came to understand love in a completely new way. Not the conditional, fragile kind I had known before—but a love that is constant, forgiving, and unshakable. A love that doesn’t see me as too broken, too damaged, or too far gone.

For most of my life, I carried the weight of feeling unworthy. Things that had been done to me, and the behaviors that followed, left me believing I had no real value. That I was somehow beyond redemption.

But that is not the truth.

No one is beyond redemption. Not one of us.

God’s love is so immense, so all-encompassing, that He gave His Son so that we could have eternal life. Not because we earned it. Not because we proved ourselves. But simply because we are loved.

There are no impossible barriers. No unreachable standard. We are called to love the Lord and to love each other—and in that, we find everything.

Life without Jesus feels like living in winter without end.

But life with Him?

It’s like stepping into summer.

Warmth replaces cold. Light replaces darkness. Freedom replaces striving. And suddenly, you’re not just surviving—you’re living.

If you’ve been standing in the cold for a long time, believing that’s all there is… I promise you, it’s not.

You don’t have to stay there.

All you have to do is step into the sunshine.

I'm Calling Bullsh*t on Slut Shaming

There has been a bit of a controversy since Kim Kardashian posted yet another nude photo of herself and Pink finally having enough decided to comment.

I have a lot of respect for Pink speaking out and I am thankful that someone is finally calling out these women that are using sex and the "I am proud of my body" bullshit to promote themselves and make money.

Salon.com then responded with a blog critical of Pink calling her out for "slut shaming" and saying that we (women) should allow other women to be themselves and proud of their bodies. Well I am calling BULLSHIT on this "new feminism".

I am going to hold myself, my daughter and other women to a higher level than what the Kardashians, Lena Dunhams and Amy Schumers of the world have brought us down to. I have no problem with women being proud of their bodies no matter the size but have some pride in the fact that you do not need to show EVERY inch of that body to get attention, money or fame.

Use your brain, work hard, show you have talents other than giving blow jobs and showing your boobs. Women like Pink, Malala Yousafza, Sadie Robertson and others all receive fame without getting naked but by using their talents, courage and strength of character.

I think as a society we have become so afraid to offend or "judge" others that all behaviors have now become acceptable and we have demeaned ourselves as women. How we can command respect when we don't even respect ourselves enough to call out others when they have gone to far. These women have ruined "The Brand" so to say. They are not trendsetters, they are not brave, they are cliche's and have resorted the base of humanity.

If you want to impress me and others, keep your clothes on, use your brain, strength and create something, break records or run a company. Until then I guess I will continue to "slut shame".

Bless Your Little Heart... and Other Subversive Women's Code

Inspired by a recent blog by Lisbeth Darsh called It's Not All Kettlebells and Kumbuyas where she discusses how women react to each other regarding competition. Her post hit home for me in many ways and I felt the need to vent the frustration that she unleashed.

These days men have been getting a majority of the blame for "putting women down' and not "treating us equally" and I have to say the issue is not men. Both at the "Box" and at work I am supported by the men, there is no bullshit, no ego. When I do something well they congratulate me and when I fuck up, boy do they let me know, but it is all good. Women on the other hand are the biggest obstacle to my success. Very few women celebrate other women's' successes. They will high five you, congratulate you but there is always an undercurrent of resentment. I find that women that are confident in themselves and where they are in life have no problem with the success of other women and will do anything they can to help them. I seek these women out since I know they will have your back no matter what happens and those are the true bad asses (and I know several and I thank God every day I have them in my life).

Lately I have run into what I call the "subversive" women. They pretend to be happy for you but in a passive/aggressive way they belittle you and put you down the first chance they get. I tried to explain this to my husband one day and he understood but did not "truly" understand how such small, petty stuff could add up and wear down a person. I have even lost several nights sleeps due to this type of behavior.

After reading Lisbeth's blog I realized a couple of things. I'm competitive, I'm loud, I'm opinionated and I am not going to let someone else's insecurity stop me from being proud of my accomplishments. Both inside and outside the "Box". I will sleep well tonight dreaming about my new PR

Ramblings from 2 AM

You know that dream you have where you are running in the dream but you aren't really moving, it's like you are mired in sand and no matter how hard you try you just can't move? Yeah? Well welcome to my "awake" life.

This is how the blog post originally started a few weeks ago and then we had the death of Robin Williams. There was so much back and forth regarding depression, suicide, what can be done?, was he selfish? was he a coward? and so on and so on.

At the time I had too many thoughts swirling around in my head for me to articulate what it is like for a person who suffers from depression and battles on a daily basis with thoughts of suicide.  My first inclination was to defend Mr. Williams and try to explain the depth of hell he must of sunk into, to have committed suicide but then that would have betrayed my own thoughts people would have overreacted and they would never have heard my message.  (let me state right here I am not going to commit suicide but however difficult this is for you to read, you must read it through and LISTEN so you can understand and possibly help someone you love that suffers from depression)

Depression is not something we chose to have, for some it is a chemical imbalance and can sometimes (and I stress sometimes) be helped with medications. For others we have lived through an event or years of events that no one should have to endure and we are broken (and don't let pretty quotes fool you, people can be broken especially when they are children. There are some things that can never be fixed).

Those that suffer from Depression don't ask for it, and we struggle with it the same way others struggle with their diseases. People would never say to a diabetic or cancer patient "just suck it up", but people that have Depression hear this ALL the time. It might not be as blunt as that, but in more subtle discussions that is what we hear. This only isolates us more and makes our struggle that much more difficult.

When someone commits suicide you often hear family and friends say "we never saw it coming, how did we miss this?". I will tell you how. We are the masters at hiding our emotions. I can tell you right now that my friends and family are reading this right now with astonishment. They have no idea that I have struggled for years and that every minute of every day in my head I have to push myself through the day. There are days that just getting out of bed takes extraordinary conversations in my head and great feats courage. People rely on me, my kids, my husband and my clients. All of them will tell you I am the strongest person they know, reliable, loyal, hardworking, blah, blah blah. I will tell you I am a fraud. I put on a different face for each person, whatever it is that they need that is what I will be... just to get through the day. This is how we live.... and it is exhausting. I can only imagine how Robin Williams felt with all those people relying on him and how many masks he had to wear, it gets very, very heavy.

On those days when it gets too heavy and I want to give in I hold on to something, anything. I think about what would happen if I wasn't around. I think about my daughter and how things would be for her and say "ok, today is not the day" (I think sometimes she picks up my vibe and she does these things sometimes, just offhand and she grounds me, like I am a balloon and she grabs my string just in time). Other days it is something as simple as the dry cleaning won't get picked up. It may sound trivial but this is what we do to survive.  We are not selfish or weak for thinking this way we are just tired.

I see others on the street, in the store, at the coffee shop, I can see it in their eyes, I know their struggle. I just want to go and gently grab their shoulder and without a word and nod and let them know I understand because sometimes that is all we need.

Most of us would just like a "soft place to land".  I for one have never had that, most of my life (even as a small child, especially as a child, I was under attack on a daily basis so I always had to ready). I wait for the "other shoe to drop", personal relationships are black and white and loyalty is key. I remember having a conversation once with someone that had never worked with me before, we had been thrown together quickly and despite usually being on opposite sides, I really liked him. Out of the blue he said to me "I have never met anyone quite like you, you are on constant alert, either they are on your side or they are against you, there is no neutral. His words struck me because it sounded harsh but that is how I have survived all these years. A "soft place to land" is not an option for me, I'm afraid if I "landed" I would never be able to get up.

Remember when people suffer from other illnesses their families rally around them, communities set up dinners and prayer chains are spread through social media. They have support systems and people understand that they are ill. Those that suffer from Depression are ill but do not have those same comforts. Don't get me wrong some families are supportive but they don't treat Depression the same way as other illnesses. You would never tell a diabetic they don't need insulin or a cancer patient not to go get chemo but many people with depression are told they just "need to be stronger" "find something to focus on" and it will get better. It doesn't work that way. So we don't discuss how we feel which further isolates us.

In parting I need you all to keep in mind when you start judging, or stating your opinion about Robin Williams' death (or anyone else who commits suicide or even about someone who suffers from Depression). When someone with Cancer, or other fatal illness succumbs to that illness, they are surrounded by friends, family and they are comforted as they depart. Those that finally succumb to Depression live their final moments alone, isolated, swallowed in despair. The way they have lived their life, this time they just had nothing left in them stay. This is not a reflection on their love for their families or their courage, they just gave in to the exhaustion.

PS:
I am fine and I do not need nor want a flood of messages. I just felt the need to get this out there, give a peek into my demented mind. Also to pull the curtain back a little for those who don't understand depression.

“There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.” 
― Laurell K. Hamilton

Why I love my box!!

Yesterday my sister came over and I was a little slow moving and explained to her that our WOD that morning was a doozy and she asked "why do you do that to yourself?" I promptly ripped off my shirt (I had on my sports bra) and said this is why and proudly flexed my muscles. She then fully understood.

But the more I thought about it the more I realized it wasn't just about the weight loss, my abs and my ridiculous biceps. It was about the people at my box (I should say boxes since we have two). Since joining CrossFit I have met some amazing people and seen some unbelievable transformations. We are a hodgepodge group, firefighters, doctors, nurses, business executives, parole officers, engineers, and students. You name it we've got but once you step in the box we are all the same, we are there to better ourselves, cheer each other on and possibly hit a PR.

We all struggle, even the strongest of us (except maybe Colt but he isn't human) through a WOD sometimes and everyone rally's around them to help get them through. During the Open I didn't think I would get through the overhead squats but I did thanks to Hannah and Jenn talking me through and I was able to put up a score for that WOD. When 14.5 came around I was terrified  I was convinced that I was not going to be able to finish. Just minutes into the WOD I wanted to quit but Jenn and Beth wouldn't let me so I kept going, slow but steady. Everyone else had finished and I was only at 9 and still had a lot to go. The whole box rallied around me, buoyed me up and I finished in 31 minutes.

Every day I see small acts of kindness in my box that are just commonplace. We don't think twice about it. No one finishes alone, we don't put away our weights and walk off when we are done. We wait, we cheer then when everyone is done we high five/fist bump then everyone helps put things away.

Another nice aspect is that we have a lot of families. Husbands, wives, brother, sisters, mothers, daughters (me and Emily), sons. Kids CrossFit is so fun to watch and the transformation in my son has been truly amazing.

Yesterday one of members that gave birth about a month ago (and seriously kicks ass), she brings her baby and the baby usually sleeps but this time she woke up. So mom took care of her while we did the WOD and then got her back to sleep. She then went on to do the WOD after class (I told you she was kick ass) and those of us that could stay cheered her on so she didn't have to do it alone. This is how we roll!

I am sure other Boxes are the same but I feel mine is special. You can walk into ours and you will feel immediately welcomed. You can be extremely fit, overweight, young, or old and you will feel like a Superhero when you leave.

I have worked out at gyms before but I have never made progress like this and I have never felt as good about myself. It is due to the support of my trainers and fellow crossfitters.