Becoming

People sometimes ask what I do, and I never quite know where to begin. The answer depends on the season you meet me in.

I do a lot of things:

I am an award-winning author.
A writer.
A writing and wellness coach.
A beta reader.
A content creator.
A podcaster.
A guide for women learning to tell the truth about their lives.

Each title is accurate and represents work I care deeply about. Each one grew out of seasons that shaped me in ways I never could have predicted. But, somewhere along the way, achievement stopped feeling like arrival, and lately, I’ve realized none of those titles answers the question I’ve quietly been carrying:

Who do I want to be?

For most of our lives, we are taught to measure growth by accumulation. We strive for more experience, more credentials, more responsibility, more visibility, and ultimately greater impact.

And for fifty-plus years, that worked for me.

I built businesses. I raised a family. I learned how to lead, teach, and hold space for others. I survived seasons that required resilience I didn’t know I had. I discovered gifts I never imagined I would use. My work expanded as my life expanded.

But maturity has a way of changing the question. Instead of asking, What can I accomplish? I started asking, Who am I becoming?

Beneath every title I carry are the roles that shaped me far more deeply:

Wife.
Mother.
Nana.
Daughter.
Sister.
Friend.

These roles don’t come with awards or algorithms. There are no launches or applause, no metrics to measure success. And yet they are the places where my heart has been formed most honestly.

Motherhood taught me sacrifice long before I understood calling.
Marriage taught me humility long before I learned leadership.
Friendship taught me presence long before I learned coaching.

Being Nana is teaching me something entirely new: joy without striving.

Children and grandchildren don’t care about your résumé.

They care whether you are paying attention.. whether you laugh easily, and snuggle close…whether you listen. They remind you that love isn’t performance- it’s presence.

When I was younger, I prayed for the day when I would eventually have life all figured out. I imagined clarity would appear like a finish line… that I would finally feel established, settled, and fully confident in who I was.

Instead, midlife has felt less like certainty and more like refinement. God has been gently removing the parts of me that were built around proving something.

Proving I was enough.
Proving I was capable.
Proving I deserved a seat at the table.

And slowly, quietly, He has been replacing striving with something softer… a sense of belonging.

I no longer feel the need to be impressive… I’d rather be me.

The truth is, my coaching, writing, speaking, and creating all come from the same place.

I help women tell their stories because I had to learn how to tell mine.
I help writers find their voice because I spent years silencing my own.
I teach wellness because I learned the hard way that ignoring your body eventually forces you to listen.

None of my work came from mastery first- it came from healing. And maybe that is why the question feels different now. I am discovering that becoming is not about being more polished. It is about being more honest.

So, who do I want to be?

I want to be a woman who listens before she speaks.
A woman who notices God in ordinary moments.
A woman who creates space where others feel safe enough to tell the truth.

I want to be someone whose family feels loved more than managed.
Someone whose work flows from joy rather than pressure.
Someone who measures success by obedience, not applause.

I want to be grounded enough that I do not chase every opportunity, and brave enough to say yes when God whispers instead of shouts.

I want to become softer without becoming smaller.
Wiser without becoming hardened.
Visible without losing humility.

And maybe this season is teaching me that becoming is not something that happens once. Maybe it happens again and again.

Every time we release an old identity.
Every time we forgive.
Every time we choose presence over productivity.
Every time we trust that God is still writing our story.

The younger version of me thought adulthood meant having everything figured out.

The woman I am becoming knows something better.

We are never finished being formed.

And maybe the real gift of this stage of life is finally understanding that growth is not about becoming someone new… it is about becoming more fully who God created you to be all along.

And so, in this season, this is where I find myself:

Still writing.
Still learning.
Still becoming.

An author. A coach. A creator.

But more importantly:

A wife.
A mother.
A nana.
A daughter.
A sister.
A friend.

And a woman still asking God, with open hands and a willing heart:

“Who are You calling me to be?”

Be happy 🧡