I wrote this book from the floor, not the finish line

In three years, I buried four women in my family: my grandmother, my mother, my aunt, and my sister. Grief came before I had finished grieving, and life kept asking something of me before I had fully recovered from what it had already taken. I was a caregiver, a leader, a minister, a coach, and still the woman people called when they needed strength. I kept serving, showing up, and producing because for a long time, being able to carry it felt like proof that I was okay.

But carrying it and being well were not the same thing.

I had walked through PTSD, anxiety, and depression, and alongside getting the professional support I needed, I became intentional about not allowing survival or a dysregulated nervous system to have the final say over the woman I would become. I wanted more than the ability to function through my life. I wanted to feel fully present in it again.

So I began creating what I now call my personal “sanctuary sessions” with myself and God. Early mornings became sacred ground, filled with Scripture, prayer, intentional breathing, speaking the Word over myself, and giving myself space to grieve what hurt, release what was heavy, remember what was true, and reclaim what survival had caused me to set aside.

Over time, I began experiencing an indescribable joy and a peace I had not felt in years, giving me room to hear my own voice, envision a life beyond what I had survived, and see more clearly the woman God created me to be. I was no longer measuring healing by how well I could perform or how much I could carry. I was learning what it felt like to live with peace in my spirit, presence in my life, and possibility in my sight.

Coming Home grew from those sanctuary sessions. This book carries the Scriptures, prayers, reflections, and simple practices that became part of how I walked with God through my own healing. I wrote it for the woman who has been strong for everybody else, who has continued showing up while carrying more than most people know, and who is ready to discover what her life can look like when survival is no longer setting the pace.

I want these pages to give you space to meet God, hear yourself again, and begin your own journey home to your peace, your voice, your softness, and the woman He created you to be. And if a woman came to mind while reading this, someone you love, admire, or appreciate because she is always carrying everyone else, consider getting a copy for her too. Sometimes love looks like giving the woman who carries so much a safe place to finally set some of it down.

I don't want you to just survive what you've lived through. I want you to be able to live in your own life again.