blessings

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15 Years of Blessings

Fifteen years ago, we stood before God and promised to walk through life together. At the time, I thought I knew what our future might hold. I imagined a home, children, careers, traditions, and milestones. What I couldn’t imagine was how many different lives we would live within this one marriage. Honestly, our life looks nothing like I imagined when we high-fived I do. And for that I am eternally grateful.

Over the last fifteen years, we have been newlyweds and exhausted parents. We have celebrated promotions and navigated disappointments. We have welcomed babies, endured uncertainty, packed boxes, said difficult goodbyes, and started over more than once. We have walked through seasons that felt abundant and seasons that required us to trust God one day at a time.

When I look back at our marriage, I don’t see a perfect story. I see a testimony of God’s faithfulness.

God’s Provision

There were seasons when we weren’t sure how everything would work out financially. There were moments when unexpected expenses, career changes, and uncertainty made the future feel unclear.

We bought our house right before a housing market boom in our area, and we have been able to update it to our forever home.

Tom got his VA benefits upgraded right before his law enforcement career was uprooted and left him waiting on a lawsuit. And then the lawsuit itself became a significant blessing.

Looking back, I can see God’s fingerprints all over those moments. He provided what we needed, often in ways we never expected. I get goosebumps thinking about all the times that it just worked out as it needed to for us to feel comfort.

God’s Guidance Through Career Changes

Neither of us could have predicted the paths our careers would take. When we got married, Tom wanted to be a canine officer, and I was going to continue working and moving up in Residence Life on a college campus.

Over the years we got devastating no’s and some yes’s that took faith in the unknown. We went down unanticipated paths as the years have gone by. I worked in Disability Services and then found myself working up College Enrollment Management positions which was a far cry from my Residence Life roots. Tom joined the Army and then eventually worked as a road police officer with a pit stop as a Loan Specialist for a hot second. Each of these experiences have helped us where we are now. I would not be the teacher I am now without the path that led me here. I think about the opportunities Tom has had that have helped us in other areas of our life. He can connect with ANYONE due to his law enforcement conversation skills, and even his time working on loans has come in handy with our own house and finances.

I also think about the people along each of these routes who either nudged us with job openings, helped mentor us, or highlighted that it was time for a change for a myriad of reasons. It is another moment of looking back and thinking how perfect all the timing was for each interaction to move us.

At the time, some doors closing felt painful. Some opportunities felt risky. But God was writing a story we couldn’t yet see. He allowed for these career changes to help us grow together as partners. I will have to say these career moments gave us some of our darkest moments where we felt hopeless and we each have had to dig the other out of those career pitfalls. It is in these moments that leaning on each other just made our marriage that much stronger and helped us realize that our careers don’t have to define us.

God’s Faithfulness Through Medical Challenges

There have been moments when health concerns brought fear, uncertainty, and difficult decisions.

I still can’t think about Tom’s situation without getting a lump in my throat thinking about God’s graces during that time.

But we have seen it other moments like George being in the NICU, my hemorrhaging after Daphne’s birth, and Wally’s seizures.

All of these were scary and again moved us to have faith and lean on each other for strength. It was in these situations that our marriage was a lifeline because someone else was going through it with you and you could share the weight of it all.

In those moments, God met us with strength, wisdom, peace, and wove us even more together.

God’s Grace in Parenting

Perhaps nothing has stretched us, humbled us, or grown us more than becoming parents.

One of the greatest blessings of our marriage has been choosing each other as partners in parenthood. Before we ever held our babies, we each carried our own stories, experiences, traditions, and even wounds from childhood. Some things we wanted to recreate. Others we wanted to do differently. Parenting has a way of bringing all of that to the surface, inviting you to examine where you came from while deciding together where you want to go.

There have been countless conversations about the kind of family we hope to build, the values we want to pass on, and the cycles we want to break. We haven’t always approached things from the same perspective, but we’ve continued to learn from one another and grow together. In many ways, raising our children has also been a journey of healing and growth for us. It has given us the opportunity to extend grace to our younger selves, appreciate the sacrifices of those who raised us, and intentionally create a home rooted in love, faith, laughter, and security.

Looking back, I am so grateful not only for the children we have been entrusted with, but for the person standing beside me through every sleepless night, difficult decision, proud moment, and unexpected challenge. There is something sacred about building a family together, about taking two different histories and, with God’s help, creating a new legacy for the generations that follow.

God’s Presence in Navigating Relationships

Life is rarely complicated because of circumstances alone. More often, it is relationships that stretch us, shape us, and challenge us the most.

Family dynamics. Friendships. Misunderstandings. Seasons of hurt and healing, but also finding “our circle” of people.

Over the years, I’ve come to appreciate the saying that “people come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.” As we’ve moved, changed careers, navigated deployments, raised children, and grown into different versions of ourselves, we’ve experienced all three. Some relationships have stood the test of time and distance, becoming part of the foundation of our lives. Others served a purpose in a particular season, offering support, wisdom, or companionship when we needed it most. And some relationships required difficult conversations, changed over time, or came to an end altogether.

One of the gifts of marriage has been having a partner to walk through those moments with. We haven’t always viewed every relationship the same way, but we’ve learned to trust each other, support one another’s decisions, and extend grace as we worked through complicated dynamics with family, friends, and the communities around us.

Through it all, God has continually taught us that love and forgiveness can coexist with healthy boundaries. He has shown us when to hold on, when to seek reconciliation, and when to release relationships into His hands. In every season, He has used the people in our lives to teach us something about grace, humility, and what it means to love others well.

God’s Faithfulness in the Hardest Seasons

Some chapters were heavier than others.

The seasons where we didn’t know how things would turn out.
The seasons that tested our faith.
The seasons that revealed what we were truly made of.

  • Deployments
  • Moving
  • Layoffs
  • Babies
  • Sickness
  • Homebuying
  • Home Renovation
  • Church Exploration

When I look back now, I see that God never wasted any of it.

The Blessing of Growing Together

The greatest gift of these fifteen years isn’t the life we’ve built. It’s who we’ve become.

We are not the same people who stood at the altar fifteen years ago. Life has changed us. Parenthood has changed us. Challenges have changed us. God’s faithfulness has changed us.

And somehow, through all those versions of ourselves, we have continued to choose each other.

As I look back over fifteen years, my heart is filled with gratitude. Not because every season was easy, but because God was present in every season.

His provision.
His protection.
His grace.
His guidance.
His faithfulness.

Fifteen years later, those are the blessings I celebrate most.

Here’s to fifteen years of God’s goodness and whatever adventures He has planned for the years ahead.

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A Step Into Teaching

Tomorrow I begin my second semester as a middle school teacher, and I’m filled with gratitude, anticipation, and a depth of peace I wasn’t sure was possible when I made this transition.

Six months ago, I shared the why behind this pivot, the long, honest reflection that led me to leave a career in higher education that had been my professional home for two decades. I wrote about feeling a quiet nudge that eventually grew into a persistent whisper I couldn’t ignore. I realized I wasn’t just ready for change, I was being called back to my original dream: being in front of students.

Since stepping into this classroom, that call has become joy, meaning, and connection in ways I could never have fully anticipated.

Creativity as Lifeline

I didn’t realize how much I missed creating, not just planning or strategizing, but crafting moments, lessons, activities, and experiences that live and breathe in real time. Over time, my work became shaped more by navigating initiatives and carrying forward other people’s ideas than by creating from my own gifts. I spent a lot of energy trying to bring others along, shaping messages, and working through layers that slowly pulled me further from the student and the heart of the work. Somewhere along the way, I lost sight of how deeply I’m wired to create in order to encourage learning.

Now, every day, I get to use my skills in a way that feels aligned with my calling. I create, I respond, I adjust, and I engage in real time with the students in front of me. I’m no longer removed from the impact. I get to witness it as it unfolds. It’s one thing to dream up ideas; it’s another entirely to watch them land (or not) and learn from it immediately. Even when things don’t land perfectly, the freedom to try again, reshuffle, and adapt has been deeply restorative. There’s a joy here I didn’t realize I had lost,

Connection and Showing Up

One of the most meaningful parts of this work has been the connections with students and the privilege of truly getting to know them. Middle schoolers are raw, honest, funny, and deeply human in a way that feels sacred to witness. They show up as they are, still figuring themselves out, carrying stories that are sometimes light and sometimes incredibly heavy. This work is not easy. There are moments that stay with me long after the bell rings, stories that remind me how much some kids are holding at such a young age. But rather than feeling helpless, my perspective has shifted. I no longer feel removed; I am in it with them. Being present, listening, laughing, and offering consistency has reminded me that meaning isn’t found in fixing everything, it’s found in showing up. Those connections, even on the hardest days, are what anchor me and continually affirm that this is exactly where I’m meant to be.

Community That Feels Like Home

In higher ed, I was part of teams (some truly amazing teams), but often in leadership roles that felt isolating. Even when I had support, solitude was part of the territory. Leadership can feel like being on an island, surrounded by people but still very much alone. And I had been in a leadership role for the last 8 years.

Teaching is different. I have peers I can walk alongside, not lead, not manage, not supervise, just colleagues who share the same floor, the same schedules, the same moments of triumph and challenge. We brainstorm together. We laugh together. We support each other without competition. I am not having to convince anyone of anything. We show up knowing we have the same goal.

That sense of team, not as a title, but as a shared experience, has been one of the greatest gifts of this change.

Joy, Play, and Presence

My day isn’t dictated by data dashboards and proposal pipelines. Data still matters. I use it to inform and adjust, but now it’s woven into the action of teaching rather than looming outside it. The joy, the play, the laughter, these are not distractions; they are essential.

Some days, I laugh all day. On heavier days, I still find gratitude because even in the weight, I can see God’s hand at work. On the last day before break, I cried on the drive home, not from exhaustion, but from deep thankfulness. I was overwhelmed by the quiet assurance that I am walking in God’s plan, that this path was prepared long before I ever stepped into it. This work aligns so deeply with who He has shaped me to be through every season, every detour, and every hard decision. I cried because I knew I had followed His leading, even when it meant letting go of something familiar to step into something unknown.

Those tears weren’t sadness. They were surrender. They were relief. They were peace. Peace that comes from trusting God’s timing and recognizing His faithfulness in every step that led me here.

Honestly, I have at least one moment of genuine, unfiltered thankfulness every single week, moments that stop me in my tracks and remind me to pause and give thanks. Sometimes it’s a student’s unexpected comment that makes me laugh out loud, a lesson that finally clicks, or a quiet moment at the end of the day as I straighten desks and erase the board. I know this may sound Pollyanna, almost too neat or optimistic, especially to anyone who has felt professionally stuck. But the truth is, I was stuck in higher education, weighed down by roles and rhythms that no longer fit. This shift in perspective didn’t come from naïveté; it came from clarity. And that clarity has been deeply freeing.

In those small, ordinary moments, I feel God’s presence so clearly, a steady reminder that He is near and that this path was never accidental. This gratitude feels different than it has before. It isn’t rooted in novelty or ease, and it certainly doesn’t ignore the hard days. Believe me this work is challenging, and some days I scratch my head on how to reach some of these 8th graders. Instead, the gratitude flows from the peace of knowing I am walking in obedience, stewarding the gifts God has given me in a way that feels honest and aligned.

Some transitions are about growth, about stretching into something unfamiliar. But this one feels like a return, a gentle leading back to who God created me to be in the first place. It’s a homecoming of sorts, marked not by perfection, but by peace, purpose, and a renewed trust in His timing and faithfulness.

Movement, Body, and Belonging

On a lighter note, I am not meant to sit behind a desk. I feel that in my bones. I walk, I move, I dance around my room, and yes, it’s tiring. But it’s the good tired. The kind that fills you up because it comes from being fully alive in your work.

Test days, when I’m suddenly sitting again, feel longer. They remind me of what I was missing: activity, motion, and the simple physical rhythm of a real, full school day.

Growing Into Myself and Not Away From My Story

I am still me. I didn’t leave all my skills behind, I bring them here. All that I learned in higher education, data analysis, leadership, strategy, advocacy, they are now tools I apply in real time with students. I still believe firmly that “detour” into higher ed wasn’t wasted, it was preparation. It shaped the teacher I am today and gave me perspective.

But the difference now is that the work feeds me and not just my resume or boosting me on a leadership organization chart.

This change wasn’t about leaving something bad. It was about recognizing that something good was no longer the right fit for me anymore , and having the courage to follow the whisper that said there was something more waiting.

I am thankful for higher education and all it taught me: the growth, the relationships, and the seasons that shaped me. I’m deeply grateful for the people God placed in my life during those years and for the lessons I carried forward with me. But I am equally grateful that I learned to listen when God began to stir my heart, when the quiet whisper grew clearer and I sensed Him saying, “There is something else for you.” Trusting that nudge required faith, but it led me exactly where I am meant to be.

And that whisper led me here: to a classroom full of life, laughter, challenge, joy, and purpose.

Here’s to the work that lights us up, the journey that shapes us, and the courage to choose what feels right in our bones.

Here’s to finding our why and living it.

I can’t wait to see what the rest of this year brings.