Sometimes, life has this way of turning down the volume on all the chaos, and in that stillness, we get a clear glimpse of what truly matters. One of these moments occurred in my life last month.
It was a quiet January night, just a few days before the presidential inauguration. I was lying in bed in the middle of the night with my 6-year-old, Echo, gently calming her after a night terror had awakened her. As she finally drifted back to sleep, I felt a heaviness settle over me, thick and suffocating, like the air before a storm. It pressed against my chest, not like a weight, but like a presence — something unseen yet undeniable. At that moment, I could only think to bow my head, close my eyes, and offer a silent prayer to God.
The valley of the shadow of death
In September 2024, our family suffered a heart-wrenching loss — one I’m not prepared to speak about in detail yet, but I will when the time is right. Not long after the tragedy, I met an incredible woman named Diane, a bishop, who had prayed with me after my loss and was the first to ask me if I wanted to be saved. (I’m still getting the hang of the lingo. Some say pastor, preacher, or minister, depending on the…
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