I will praise you, LORD, with all my heart; I will tell of all the marvelous things you have done.
Psalm 9:1 NLT

I ran. I ignored. I suppressed. I denied the calling I knew God placed in me—to share my story.
It felt like no one would care. It felt too hard. It felt like others had been through worse than I had. I didn’t want people judging my life decisions. But eventually, I realized obedience doesn’t always feel comfortable—sometimes it just looks like showing up with a willing and open heart.

I can’t say I always loved journaling about myself—but I did love writing. From a young age, I found joy in crafting letters of encouragement to friends or sharing my perspective through school essays, especially when someone’s story moved me.

Years later, when I recognized that my healing journey had truly begun, I started journaling—not for others, but for myself. I wanted to capture the moments of growth and the milestones of breakthrough. I knew I would overcome, and I wanted to remember how.

At first, those words were mine alone—tucked away in notebooks, revisited during quiet moments, or maybe shared over coffee with a young woman walking a road I had once traveled. But slowly, it became clear: God had more in mind for those pen strokes. What I thought were private reflections were seeds for something bigger. Finding Hope wasn’t planned—it was born out of obedience, healing, and the realization that my story could be someone else’s lifeline.

Recognizing pain and hurt from childhood—and choosing to face it.
Experiencing trauma as a college-aged girl who thought she had it all figured out.
Packing up a business and a family to move across the country with the military, starting over with nothing but faith and a fresh zip code.
Grieving. Searching for joy.
Falling in love with the one who would become my greatest earthly gift.
Staring down my worst fears and finding God in every valley and mountaintop.

This was my story to tell. And deep down, I knew someone out there needed to hear it—not for entertainment, but for encouragement.

My job isn’t to control the outcome. It’s simply to be obedient with the task He’s placed in front of me, and then to trust Him with the rest.

There’s nothing quite like putting your whole life on display for the world to read—and believing that God will use it in ways you couldn’t even dream of.

If I’m honest, this was a seven-year journey.
How fitting—and a little funny—that God chose the number seven. In Scripture, seven often symbolizes completeness and divine fulfillment. It marks something that has been made whole.

God led me through a six-year walk—not a sprint, not even a jog, but a slow, steady walk through healing, surrender, and growth. It wasn’t flashy or fast. It was faithful.

Then came the seventh year—a year of hiddenness, of deep revelation, and sacred stillness.

Not stillness in the world—life kept moving, as it always does. But stillness in my soul. A holy pause -Selah. A space to be quiet long enough to focus and write. Long enough to gather the memories, shape the chapters, edit with care, and pray through every page.

I remember sitting at dinner one night, holding this dream quietly between the Lord and me, when I finally looked at my husband and said,
“I think I’m supposed to write a book.”

Saying it out loud felt like a release. It was light. It was freeing. And it felt like the truest thing I had ever admitted about myself. As soon as the words left my mouth, something inside me settled.

Towards the end of 2024, I told him I had a goal: to attend a writing retreat in 2025. I didn’t know exactly what it would look like—I just knew I needed tools, space, and guidance for the journey ahead. Writing a book wasn’t going to be a quick task. It was going to take time, intention, and faith.

A little scared but even more excited, I released the goal to God and prayed for the door to open.

Two months later, on January 1, 2025, I opened my inbox and saw an email invitation to an Author Class Interest Meeting with Havilah Cunnington. I paused, prayed, and then signed up—still unsure where it would lead, but hopeful.

Never in a million years did I think that simple “yes” would lead to me completing my first full draft in just 16 weeks. I set a goal to publish by the fall and found myself surrounded by a group of incredible people from all over the country—each with the same dream I had carried in my heart for years.

Together, we learned how to outline, organize, and actually write the books God had placed in us. We encouraged each other, walked through doubt and writer’s block together, and celebrated every breakthrough—big and small.

The truth is,
📚 Only 3–5% of people who want to write a book ever begin.
📝 Of those, only 30% finish a full manuscript.
🚫 And 97% of those manuscripts never get published.

I’m now part of the small percentage who followed through—not because I had it all together, but because I finally stopped running from the calling and started trusting God with the process.

✨ Finding Hope is my story, but it’s also an invitation—for you to begin your own. I pray you’ll find hope in your story the same way I found hope in mine.

No pun intended.