Marriage isn’t always soft kisses, romantic dates, and matching pajamas on Christmas morning. There’s a darker side—one that doesn’t always get talked about in the curated world of social media and highlight reels. And no, I’m not talking about infidelity or betrayal. I’m talking about the quieter struggles. The moments of tension. The hard conversations. The everyday realities that make marriage both challenging and beautiful.

This summer, we’ve been on the move a lot— but still making memories and living life. But because of this something unexpected has been following us around: the budget talk. My husband has been hinting ( ever so subtly) that I need to learn to budget better. And I laugh because it’s honestly his fault. He spoiled me. So now, when he tries to act brand new and drop hints about “watching spending,” I’m like, Sir, you created this princess. I don’t know why but budgeting is something I don’t like it.

Let me tell you, in the past when I’ve overspent, my husband has done things like blocking my card at the register—yes, in public! I usually have to call the bank to have them unlock it. Then he’d fuss at me later, saying I was making him “look bad” because I have his name. Now when I say fussing it’s usually a very lighthearted joke or casual conversation. I’m not a big spender and I do know how to shop and look for sales. So maybe that’s why it’s not a big deal but I could do better.

Although one time he even made me take things back. I think he learned his lesson though. Because now when I ask, “What’s my limit?” and he jokes, “You don’t limit your wife, because if you do… she’ll limit you back.” (He usually points toward my private when he says that—but that’s his twisted sense of humor.)

And you know what? I love that about him. He once told me in a very heated argument that although I’m very intelligent he didn’t marry me for my mind. He was dead serious. And while some women would’ve been offended, I get him. I really do. I get his humor. I get his heart. I get the man behind the madness. It actually turned the conversation around and we both started laughing.

But today something hit me deep.

I was out and saw a woman at a restaurant being scolded by her husband—for spending $16. He kept going on and on, and her kids were sitting right there, watching. The air was so heavy I could feel the embarrassment from where I sat. And it made me pause.

I realized—I’ve taken my husband for granted.

Yes, he plays too much sometimes. Yes, he has a budget spreadsheet he swears by. But he provides. He doesn’t demean me about even when I over spend. He doesn’t belittle me. He gives. And gives. And when I blow through the budget (which I’m working on, by the way), he still comes home and loves me the same.

So, to every wife reading this: If you have a good man, thank God for him. Don't wait until you're sitting at a restaurant watching someone else’s nightmare to realize you're living in a blessing.

And babe, if you're reading this—I know I swipe first and ask questions later. But I love you. I'm thankful for your provision, your hardwork, and your twisted sense of humor. And I’ve made a decision: I'm going to be more intentional and stop spending my money on frivolous things.

You didn’t marry me for my mind, but lucky for you, I have a prophetic gift and decided to keep you anyway. 😉 

I love you.

As summer draws to a close, and the scent of crisp autumn breezes begins to whisper through the trees, our family took one last trip to the beach—a final love letter to long days, salty air, and the freedom that summer always seems to bring.

We packed light, but intentionally: beach chairs, snacks, a cooler full of sweet tea and watermelon slices, and of course, the well-worn blanket that’s seen more sunsets than I can count. The kids ran straight for the shoreline like it was calling their names. And in many ways, it was.

There’s something sacred about a beach day at the end of the season. It’s different than the loud, energetic bursts of June and July. This one was quieter, almost reverent. The waves were gentle. The breeze a bit cooler. The sky painted in soft shades of goodbye.

We watched the children collect shells like tiny treasures, maybe sensing that this moment wouldn’t come again for a while. My husband and I sat close, our hands intertwined, letting the rhythm of the tide remind us of how far we’ve come—and how deeply rooted our love and faith have grown over the years.

As we prepare our hearts and home for the upcoming fall season, this trip was more than just a family outing. It was a pause. A moment to exhale. A chance to reflect on all the memories we made this summer—some loud and laughter-filled, others quiet and soul-deep.

Soon we’ll be trading swimsuits for sweaters, beach towels for blankets, and fresh peaches for warm apple pies. But for now, we carry this day with us—a final sun-kissed chapter of summer, etched into our family story.

Here’s to new seasons, familiar rhythms, a successful year and never forgetting to make room for joy.

With love,
From our family to yours.

The moment we dreamed about has arrived—our babies are heading off to college. It’s exciting, bittersweet, and let’s be honest… a little emotional. It feels like just yesterday we were packing lunchboxes, and now we’re packing dorm bins, comforters, laptops, and dreams.

As a family, we’ve been walking through this transition with intention. Beyond the Target runs and financial aid emails, I’ve been leaning into the emotional and spiritual preparation too—making sure they know they’re not going off alone. That no matter where they are, we’re covering them in love, prayer, and care.

One of the most comforting things for me (and them!) has been putting together college care packages—small boxes that say, "You’re still on my heart, even from miles away."

Some Of The Things We Put In Our College Care Packages:

• Handwritten stickers or sticky notes: A simple “I’m proud of you,” or “Keep going” goes a long way.

• Snacks from home: Their favorite chips, trail mix, or the cookies they always ask for. 

• Bibles, Mini devotionals or affirmations: A reminder that they’re never alone, and that God is with them in every lecture hall, dorm room, and late-night study session. Also, local churches they can attend information.

• Practical items: Things like first aid kits, Band-Aids, laundry pods, vitamin C packets, and chapstick always come in handy.

• Gift cards: A little Starbucks, Target, Emergency Gas cards, or DoorDash card can be a lifesaver during finals week.

• Family photos or small framed scriptures: Something to anchor them when they’re missing home. Photos of us preparing the boxes.

  
  

More Than Just a Box

Packing these little boxes has become a quiet act of love for me. It’s not just about what’s inside—it’s about staying connected. It’s about reminding them that no matter how independent they become, there’s a place they can always come back to. There’s a mother praying for them, a family rooting for them, and a home that’s still their home.

As we prepare them for this next chapter, we also prepare ourselves—to release, to trust, and to celebrate. College is a new beginning for them, but it’s one for us too. It’s the beginning of a new relationship with our children: one rooted in mutual respect, growing friendship, and unwavering support.

So if you're in this season too—letting go, wiping tears, sending packages, and praying hard—just know you're not alone. We’re all in this together, cheering our babies on and trusting God to do the rest.

What’s in your care packages? 

Here’s to care packages, deep breaths, and the beautiful becoming that lies ahead.

With love,
From our heart to theirs.

One of my favorite things in the world is going out to lunch or dinner with my husband. It’s not just about the food (although we do enjoy good food). It’s the connection, the laughter, the great conversation we’ve created over time. He always gives me great ideas and wisdom.

But every now and then, we like to switch it up. Sometimes, just for fun, we’ll sit at different tables—yes, separate tables like strangers—and pretend we’re meeting for the very first time. Or we’ll go to a bar and pretend to be strangers. And let me tell you sometimes I go home with my date on the first night. 😉 

It’s hilarious, exciting, and surprisingly romantic.

He’ll send over a drink, or I’ll seduce him to come sit with me, or strike up a conversation like a man trying to shoot his shot.

 I’ll play the role of a stranger or mysterious woman who’s just trying to enjoy her meal. We flirt, we joke, we even ask each other outrageous questions like, “So… what do you do?” or “Do you come here often?” Or “what are you looking for” as if we didn’t just fold laundry together that morning.

It might sound silly to some, but to us, it keeps the spark alive. It reminds us not to take ourselves too seriously. It keeps us connected to the “why” behind our love—not just the bills, the routines, or even the blessings—but the playfulness and chemistry that started it all.

Marriage isn’t just about being together every day; it’s about choosing each other every day. And sometimes, that means choosing to be goofy, creative, and a little spontaneous. It’s in those moments—laughing across the room, playing pretend, and sneaking kisses in the parking lot like teenagers—that I remember how fun love can be.

So if you're married, dating, or somewhere in between—try it. Sit at separate tables. Meet each other again. Ask your spouse their name like it’s brand new. Stare at them like you’re meeting for the first time. You might just fall in love all over again.

Because sometimes, the best kind of date is the one where you already know how the story ends—together. 💕

I still crush on my husband. No, really—I do. Years into this journey, after bills, babies, and everything life has thrown our way, something about that man still makes my heart skip a beat. It’s not just love—it’s a schoolgirl kind of nervousness. Every time he walks into a room, my eyes follow. I sit up straighter. I smile harder. I get butterflies.

And not in a casual, “he’s cute” kind of way. I mean full-on, heart-fluttering, can’t-sit-still, teenage-style butterflies. Years into marriage, after the everydayness of life—laundry, bills, school drop-offs, and grown-up decisions—he still walks into a room and makes my heart skip a beat.

Sometimes, it’s at home. He’ll come around the corner, fresh from a shower or just dressed up for the day, and I suddenly forget what I was doing. 

People assume that kind of energy fades with time. That marriage is all routines and responsibilities. But I’ve found the opposite can be true if you nurture it. The more I learn about my husband, the deeper my admiration grows. The more I see his character, his strength, the way he provides and covers our family in love and prayer, and spoils me—the more I swoon. He doesn’t even have to say anything. Just the sound of his keys in the door, or the way he casually calls my name from another room, still does something to me.

And no, it’s not because everything’s perfect. We’ve had real-life arguments, miscommunications, moments we didn’t see eye to eye. But through it all, I’ve never stopped seeing him. I’ve never stopped being in awe of the man I married. He doesn’t have to perform or pretend to impress me—he just has to be him.

There’s something so powerful about still feeling that thrill for your own husband. It’s a reminder that love doesn’t have to get stale. That admiration doesn’t have to expire. That you can still be in love and in like with your spouse.

I pray he always knows this: I don’t just love you—I like you. I admire you. I watch you from across the room like I just met you. You still make my heart race. You’re still my favorite crush.

Marriage doesn’t mean the butterflies have to die. Sometimes, if you keep your heart tender and your eyes open, the butterflies only get stronger.

And I thank God, every day, that mine still do. 🦋

I’ve learned to love being the outcast.

There’s peace in being overlooked, underestimated, and even misunderstood. When people don’t have expectations of you, you’re free to live life without the pressure to perform. It doesn’t mean I don’t operate as a woman of God, or in excellence or keep my word—those things are a part of my character. But it does mean I don’t live for applause. I live for peace.

Full transparency—sometimes I seek to be rejected on purpose, just for laughs and a little giggles. It's hilarious.

But I thank God for a husband sees me.

He helped me. He made me feel seen. He made me feel beautiful again.

Some days, I wish there were words big enough to say “thank you.” But until then, I’ll just keep loving him louder.

My husband and I recently talked about friendships. He’s a social one—always encouraging me to open up and connect more. And I appreciate the sentiment. I do have a few people I call for real conversation. But as far as surrounding myself with a people who don’t have my best interests at heart? That’s not a life I want.

There’s something sacred about solitude. Something powerful about not needing validation from people who never truly saw you anyway. And through that stillness, I realized something deeper—God is in the rejection.

Scripture says “The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.” That’s not just a poetic line—it’s a sign that if you haven't been rejected you can't rise. We've all experienced it. We've all been thrown away, or overlooked by someone, corporation, or group. But this scripture teaches us that it's apart of  Heaven's crowns.

There were jobs I prayed for—positions I believed were perfect for me—and still, I was rejected.

I have so many stories—moments where I was rejected, overlooked, and made to feel invisible.

As the oldest child, I was never the favorite. That title belonged to my brother, and my mother didn’t hide it. Her love for him was open and undeniable—while with me, it felt like I had to earn every ounce of attention.

Sometimes, it even seemed like family preferred my others over me. Imagine that—watching your own family light up more for someone outside the family.

Growing up, I often felt rejected by my own family—mainly because of my complexion. I could make a suggestion, and it would be brushed off like it didn’t matter. But let my cousin say the exact same thing, and suddenly everyone was on board.

For a long time, I didn’t see myself as beautiful. It wasn’t until God whispered to my spirit, “You are beautiful just as you are,” that I finally started to believe it.

Friends I loved often betrayed me. Stalked me, harassed, and slept with boyfriends. Despite having more than me. 

Before I met my husband, there was a man who was once interested in me. But he never pursued me—because in his mind, I didn’t meet a certain status. Instead, he dated someone he believed was more “his type.” Ironically, she turned out to be everything he didn’t want. He spent years trying to mold her into something she could never be—me. And when he couldn't he got mad at me for not dating him. Stalked me and harassed me for dating my then boyfriend. Telling me I was supposed to be his wife.

And I could go on...

Now, I don’t know why any woman would waste her life trying to become someone else. We are each uniquely crafted. Designed by the Creator with purpose, personality, and power. You can imitate someone’s style, copy their speech, mirror their moves—but even a clone can’t replace the original. So why not just be you?

Looking back, I realized that rejection from that man wasn’t a loss—it was protection. Every time God allows someone to walk away, it’s because He’s preparing someone better to walk in. I’ve stopped taking rejection personally. I see it as divine redirection. When the door closes, I don’t force it—I praise. Because I know: it’s all God. It’s always been God.

Even Jesus was rejected. Spit on. Denied. Crucified. But that wasn’t the end of the story. He had to be rejected—it was part of the plan. People often preach the cross, but they forget the throne. He is risen and now sits at the right hand of the Father. Just imagine that level of elevation—rejected by man, but exalted by God.

So yes, I like being the outcast. Because in that rejection, I’ve found God’s protection, His promotion, and His peace. And honestly? That’s better than popularity any day.

What I’ve learned is this: when God has something for you, it will be yours. No matter what obstacles come, no matter who tries to block or take it—what He’s ordained can’t be denied.

God won’t reject what He’s chosen. But that doesn’t mean we can take His favor for granted. There’s a window of grace, and if we’re not careful, we can forfeit it.

So always honor His blessings. Walk humbly. Stay grateful. And never forget who gave it to you in the first place.

There’s a beauty in the early hours of the morning—a stillness that makes space for reflection and divine connection. And in our home, that connection between my husband and I begins with prayer. Sometimes reading a scripture together.

Every morning, I pray with my husband. And on the way to school I pray with our children. We agreed that before we pick up our phones or dive into the demands of the day, we pause—together. We hold hands, we close our eyes, and we speak to God. Sometimes it’s just a few minutes, sometimes it’s longer. But no matter how much time we have, those moments remind me that our marriage is not just built on passion or lust, but love, faith, and ordained by God.

There’s something incredibly intimate about hearing my husband pray for you, our family, children, our neighbors, our friends, and covering all that we own. When my husband lifts me up to God, I feel covered. I feel protected. I feel seen. And when I pray for him, I’m reminded of the honor it is to be his partner. It’s in those quiet prayers that we align our hearts, surrender our plans, and invite God into every detail of our day.

And as soon as we finish, I carry that same peace into the next part of my morning—praying with my children on the way to school.

I love that we don’t just rush out the door. I cherish those car rides. We talk. We laugh. And then, we pray. Sometimes the kids leads. Sometimes I do. But always, it’s real. We ask God to cover them, their teachers, their friends. We pray for focus, kindness, and confidence. I love watching my family grow in faith. It’s become our special tradition—a few sacred minutes in the car where I get to remind them and they remind me who we are and whose we are.

Between praying with my husband and praying with my children, my mornings are full. These prayers keep our family grounded. They connect us to each other and to God.

If you’ve never made morning prayer a part of your routine, I encourage you to start. You don’t need fancy words or perfect timing. Just open your heart. Whether it’s with your spouse, your children, or just by yourself—start the day with God.

Because those small, sacred moments? They change everything.