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  • Motivated by Heart, Not Hype

    My Annual Social Media Hiatus

    My annual social-media hiatus started a couple of days ago.

    Nothing sends a jolt through your spine quite like the empty space that surrounds you once you step away from a crowded feed.

    I do it every year, and it never fails to leave me disoriented for a day or two.
    My fingers still reach for my phone; my thumb still swipes for the app that no longer holds my account.
    My heart sinks for a moment as I remember that now I show up on a stage without an audience.

    Now, I do kind things for one person—
    not a sea of validators (pretty sure I just made up that word).

    Love in the dark.
    Success in the dark.
    Memories in the dark.

    Still, I feel the impulse to leave each year because if I don’t, I start to wonder:

    • Would I show up for my kids without an audience?
    • Would I still be the wife I strive to be if it weren’t broadcast?
    • Am I still real—does my heart still beat in rhythm with what I claim when it isn’t witnessed?

    The only way to know for sure is to step back and do these things without the addictive, instant gratification of a tap on someone else’s phone.

    There’s a part of me that likes to perform. (If we’re honest, I think we all do.)
    But sometimes we try so hard to be noticed that we forget what it feels like to be known.

    We keep watching each other perform perfection, and slowly there’s less room for honesty.
    Normal gets twisted into wrong, and fake becomes gospel.
    Then we start changing who we are in person just to match who we pretend to be online—
    and before we know it, love itself becomes performance art.

    I suppose some people can do both—show up online and still live with heart in the dark.
    But for me, every now and then, I need to double-check that I still know the woman inside—
    and that she’s still motivated by heart, not hype.

  • Pirates Football Game 9-20

    Saturday night under the lights felt like one of those evenings where the whole town (out of town, that is) breathes in rhythm. Cheering together. For a moment, we all want the same thing…. A win for the away team.

    Somewhere behind me, I heard someone say, “We’ve got a great defense.” And they weren’t wrong — the Dover Pirates showed up, dug deep, stood strong, and walked away with a victory over the Morrilton Devil Dogs.

    But for me, the night wasn’t only about the scoreboard. I sat shoulder to shoulder with a baby who wasn’t even a year old yet — she stole my heart, and for a few minutes, the face of my lens. And then, looking forward, my own daughter, Abigail, stood at the edge of the field, cheering her heart out. The contrast hit me like a gut punch. She’s nearly eleven now. The space between one and eleven is only two handfuls of years — but it’s also a decade already spent. A bank account that only decreases.

    And that thought will stop you cold. It reminded me of all the “lasts” I’ve already tucked away without noticing:

    • The last crawl
    • The last diaper
    • The last bath
    • The last sippy cup
    • The last car seat ride
    • The last “first” word
    • The last night she crawled in bed, scared
    • The last, “Mommy, mommy

    and the list goes on…….

    The eyes of that baby felt like standing at the edge of a cliff called time.

    Nights like these are reminders. We only get so many evenings where the lights blaze down on the field, where our children perform for us, where their voices and ours echo together. Where we leave in the same car and stuff our faces sharing the same meal. Last night was proof that life moves fast — even when it tricks us into believing our days are long.

    Here are some of those moments, frozen in time — the grit of our defense, the strength of our boys, the cheers of our girls, and the sweetness of faces I’ll carry with me long after the final whistle blows and I pack up my camera on a football field as a cheerleader mom for the last time.

  • Quiet Roar 2:

    June 4, 2025|Quiet Roars

     “I’m not saying you’re a bad person. Just that you leave good people worse than you found them.”

    Why it roars:  Sometimes the wreckage isn’t loud. It’s subtle. It’s in the way people start questioning their own softness. 

  • Quiet Roar 3: Chaos

    June 10, 2025|Quiet Roars

    Ever notice how the shallow end is always the loudest?

    Waves crashing, chaos circling—mud, memory, and mess all stirred to the surface.

    But out where the water deepens, everything quiets.

    There’s no drama.

    Just gravity doing its work.

    Trash doesn’t float forever.

    It sinks, if you let it.

    Not because it vanishes. 

    but because peace doesn’t need to put it on display. 

    Let it go.

    Not your circus.

    Not your show

  • Orange Cones

    Orange Cones

    Orange Cones for Child’s Safety.

    June 4, 2025|Unwritten & Understood

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  • Don’t Believe Everything You Think by Joseph Nguyen

    Don’t Believe Everything You Think by Joseph Nguyen

    June 5, 2025
    Category: Found Things / Kept Things

    Don’t Believe Everything You Think by Joseph Nguyen

    Somehow, Facebook analyzed me and figured out exactly what I needed. Book reviews. Zuckerberg wins.

    That’s how I found Don’t Believe Everything You Think by Joseph Nguyen.
    I knew the moment I saw the post—it was a must-read.

    Nguyen explores how much of our emotional suffering is created not by what happens, but by the thoughts we choose to believe. Blending philosophy, mindfulness, and practical insight, he gently nudges readers toward peace by asking them to observe their thoughts—rather than live under their rule.

    One idea that hit me hard was this:

    Thoughts are healthy. It’s the thinking that destroys them.

    That reframing changed something in me.

    I once had a beautiful thought—an idea—to start a blog. But I immediately spiraled into everything that could go wrong. That’s what thinking does.
    A year later, I’m just now starting.

    Nguyen’s tone is tender and human. It didn’t feel like a lecture—it felt like a conversation with someone who understood exactly where I was.

    Since reading it, I’ve started catching myself mid-spiral.
    I pause. I ask,
    “Is this thought even true?”
    And that small pause?
    It’s changing me.

    I’d recommend this book to anyone who wrestles with anxiety, overthinking, or self-doubt.
    If you’ve convinced yourself to stay small, this book may help you reconsider.
    Maybe your thoughts were never the problem.
    Maybe it’s the thinking that needs a reset.

  • Wool Socks, Coffee, and Forever: Real Love

    Wool Socks, Coffee, and Forever: Real Love

    Author’s Note:

    This letter is written to my daughter, Abigail, but it’s for anyone who wants to understand the quiet power of love that doesn’t leave when it gets hard. The kind that feels like wool socks and coffee—safe, steady, and completely yours.

    Dear Abigail,

    Today, I’m dreaming about your wedding day.
    I fight back tears by swallowing the lump in my throat—because I can’t wait to be there.
    Well… I do want you to wait. Please don’t get married at ten. (Giggling.)

    I’m excited to see you glow. To watch you stand steady in a love that holds you.
    You’re still so young. You don’t even have a favorite flower yet. But I wonder what you’ll choose.
    You’ve seen me love plants—because they grow.
    You know how stems make me feel: rootless, wilting, like they need anchoring.
    But when your time comes, I know you’ll pick what’s yours.

    Still, we both know: on that day, the flower won’t matter nearly as much as the person standing beside you.

    Right now, I’m in my office, and you’re asleep in the room just above me.
    It comforts me to know that the part of my heart that breathes oxygen—you—still sleeps nearby.
    But someday, you’ll go.

    And when you do—even with tears streaming down my face—I’ll be happy for you.

    But before we go there, let’s start here:

    What is love?

    It’s more than a feeling.
    It’s the action (love) that creates the feeling (loved).
    It’s strength that endures the waves trying to drown you.
    It’s consistency that grounds you when the world tilts.

    Here’s what makes it rare and powerful:
    You can’t earn it.
    You can’t make someone feel it for you.
    You can give it.
    You can show it.
    But you can’t force someone to return it.

    The truth is—
    Love isn’t a feeling.
    It’s a choice the feeling might inspire.

    But real love?
    It still shows up on the days when the feeling doesn’t.

    That feeling you crave? That’s admiration. Respect. Affection.
    But it’s only a passenger sometimes.
    The real driver? That’s commitment.
    And it keeps going—cargo or not.

    So what does that mean?

    It means love lets you be painfully human—and still believe you’re worthy.
    It sees the truth of who you are, and yet… you don’t feel exposed.
    You feel known.

    The world may see flaws.
    Love sees the traits that make you you.
    The world says you’re late.
    Love says, “You must’ve taken extra time—because wow, you look good.”
    The world replays your past.
    Love sees a misstep, not a sentence. No stones—just grace.

    You hate to cook?
    Suddenly—look! It’s love’s new favorite hobby.
    The world might call you spoiled.
    Love calls you its best investment.

    It doesn’t need a bow or the roar of applause.
    It’s that safety in wool socks and a cup of coffee.
    It lets you walk around like no one’s watching—because it is.

    It doesn’t announce its arrival with a megaphone.
    It quietly whispers: “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. And I don’t care who sees—or who doesn’t.”

    When you try to leave, it guards the door.
    Not to control—just to say, I love you.

    When it’s disappointed, it doesn’t keep score.
    It tries more.

    To understand.
    To live without expectation.
    To avoid bond assassination.
    To find the darkness—
    sit with you in your shame—
    and still love you the same.

  • Stop Being the Court Jester: Stop Overexplaining and Choose Peace

    Stop Being the Court Jester: Stop Overexplaining and Choose Peace


    June 17, 2025 | Interpersonal Insight

    Stop Overexplaining

    Don’t Crown the Court Jester
    By Felecia Jacks

    There comes a moment when telling your side
    stops being healing
    and starts being exhausting.

    When you realize the truth doesn’t always need an audience,
    And peace doesn’t require approval.

    The peace is within you.
    And only the devil sits in the details.

    Telling becomes a temptation—
    because we believe our version of the story might change someone’s mind,
    soften someone’s heart,
    Or finally open them up.

    But if we’re being honest…
    Think of someone you actually know.

    Like your spouse.
    I’m picturing mine right now.

    We’ve let each other down.
    We’ve walked through fire.
    There have been moments that needed apologies—
    But not performances.

    We didn’t sit on trial.
    We didn’t beg to be understood.
    We didn’t weaponize silence
    or make understanding a condition.

    That’s the difference.

    There’s a line between the people who are worth explaining yourself to
    and the ones who never should’ve had that power in the first place.

    And more often than not?
    The ones worth explaining to
    Don’t demand it.

    Each time you choose to explain yourself to someone,
    You put yourself on trial.

    You become the defendant.
    And in court, most defendants don’t take the stand.
    There’s a reason for that.

    Defending yourself already puts you under scrutiny—
    exposed to twisted narratives, manipulative questions,
    and people who weren’t listening to understand in the first place.

    So just like you guard who you tell your secrets to,
    be especially careful about who you defend yourself to.

    Think about your life.
    Think about who you’ve wasted your breath on.
    Did their opinion actually change your path?
    Did their judgment actually matter?

    Because if someone doesn’t make a real impact,
    They don’t get a vote.

    Bottom line:
    There’s a standard to be relevant.
    So don’t bother crowning the court jester.

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