The last five years of our lives have held more heartbreak, uncertainty, and unexpected challenges than I ever imagined possible.
We survived Hurricane Ian and watched our Southwest Florida community forever change.
We said final goodbyes to both of our mothers — sacred losses that still ache in quiet moments.
My husband Greg went from jogging one day to emergency triple bypass surgery the next, reminding us how fragile and precious life truly is.
And now, our son Matthew has spent 26 days in the ICU after cardiac arrest and loss of oxygen to his brain.
Some moments have felt unbearable.
There are days I feel exhausted physically, emotionally, spiritually, and mentally. Days filled with fear, tears, medical language I never wanted to learn, sleepless nights, and endless uncertainty.
And yet… in the middle of all of it, I still find myself turning on praise music and dancing.
Not because I’m ignoring the pain.
Not because I’m pretending everything is okay.
But because worship reminds me that God is still present in the storm.
Faith does not guarantee a storm-free life.
Faith gives us strength to survive the storm without losing ourselves inside it.
One of the greatest gifts in this season has been human kindness.
Friends opening their homes.
People bringing meals.
Messages from strangers.
Prayers from across the country.
Support when we were too tired to even ask for help.
Pain has a way of revealing who truly shows up.
And while I would never choose these storms, I can honestly say they have deepened my compassion, my gratitude, my faith, and my understanding of what really matters.
I used to think strength meant having it all together.
Now I think strength means continuing to love, trust, hope, pray, and show up — even when life feels uncertain.
As Dolly Parton famously said, “Storms make trees take deeper roots.”
I believe that.
I believe storms can deepen our faith.
Deepen our empathy.
Deepen our appreciation for ordinary moments.
Deepen our connection to one another.
So if you are walking through your own storm right now, I want you to know this:
You are not weak because you are tired.
You are not failing because you are grieving.
You are not faithless because you have questions.
Sometimes courage simply looks like getting up one more day and believing healing is still possible.
And sometimes healing begins with allowing others to carry you when you no longer have the strength to carry yourself.
I would love to hear from you:
• What storm has shaped your life the most?
• What helped you keep going during your hardest season?
• Have you ever found unexpected blessings in the middle of pain?
Your story matters.
Your resilience matters.
And your honesty may help someone else feel less alone today.
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