At fourteen, I was a gifted student, a flute player, and—according to my Tennessee records—a thief. For years, I let that label define my cracks. But I’m learning that God doesn't use clear glue to fix us; He uses gold. Discover how the ancient art of Kintsugi and the truth of Psalm 139 are rewriting my story from 'broken' to 'beloved.

One act of defiance snowballed into a habit I couldn't explain. While the adults around me lectured on "trust" and "choices," I was navigating a world of fear. I remember the cold silence of the courtroom and the desperate promise I made to the judge to "fully participate"—not because I understood the gravity of the law, but because I was terrified of being defined by my mistakes.

Our body really holds the trauma we face even at a cellular level!

This sounds like the beginning of a Netflix documentary you’d immediately turn off. Writing in the third person is the only way I can grasp that this four-year-old—locked in a dark bathroom and scavenging for food—is actually me. Today, I’m stepping back into the 'Desert of Neglect' to honor the little girl who survived, and to find the Grace that was sitting with her in the dark.

My most anxious series yet 👁️👄👁️