Maybe That’s What It Took

This day started off okay.

Earlier this morning, somewhere around 10 or 11, I got caught in a storm that I didn’t even know was coming. I made it home, did a few things around the house, and went on about my day.

Then around 3:00, the notifications started.

Tornado warning.

Then another one.

And another one.

The notifications just kept coming and coming. Then the sirens started going off. The sky got dark. The rain started coming down. The wind was blowing. At one point, I thought, This is like the Wizard of Oz over here.

It was crazy.

Then, at 3:42 p.m., the power went out.

And it stayed out.

As I write this, it’s after 8:00. The rain has stopped. (Kinda) The tornado sirens have stopped. The wind has settled down. The sun even came out for a hot minute before apparently deciding it had somewhere else to be.

And now…

It’s quiet.

Really quiet.

No television. No background noise. No lights. No plugging in all the things I normally plug in. I’m conserving the battery on my phone because I don’t know when the power is coming back on. So I’m not scrolling endlessly. I’m not watching television. I’m not doing all the things I might normally be doing at this time of the evening.

I’m just sitting here.

And strangely enough, I’m at peace.

There’s something about the quiet after a storm that feels different from ordinary quiet. A few hours ago, there were sirens telling us to pay attention. There were notifications telling us to take cover. The wind was blowing, the rain was falling, and everything outside seemed unsettled.

Now everything is still.

And so am I.

Maybe that’s what it took.

Maybe it took the power going out for me to stop trying to power everything else.

Maybe it took the television going silent for me to notice the silence.

Maybe it took not knowing when things would return to normal for me to simply sit in what is.

I talk so much about resting while you wait, and tonight, that’s literally what I’m doing.

Waiting for the power to come back on.

Waiting for another update.

Waiting to see what the rest of this evening will look like.

But I’m not anxious in the waiting. I’m not trying to fix the waiting. I’m just here.

Resting.

Listening.

Being still.

There’s something almost sacred about that.

We usually think we have to create peaceful moments. Light the candle. Play the music. Turn on the diffuser. Put the phone on Do Not Disturb. Schedule the quiet time.

Tonight, none of that happened.

The storm created the stillness for me.

I certainly wouldn’t have chosen tornado warnings, sirens, heavy rain, wind, or hours without electricity as my preferred route to a quiet evening. But sitting here in the aftermath, I’m reminded that sometimes life gets quiet in ways we didn’t plan.

And when it does, maybe we don’t have to rush to fill the silence.

Maybe we can just sit in it.

Maybe we can listen.

Maybe we can breathe.

Maybe we can thank God that the storm has passed and recognize the gift tucked inside the stillness that followed.

Tonight, I don’t know when the lights are coming back on.

But for right now, I’m okay sitting in the dark.

Maybe that’s what it took.

National Book Lovers Day 📚

 

An Invitation To Pause - Triple 8s

 

     Today is August 8, 2026. The eighth month. The eighth day. And even this year quietly points me back to the number eight (2+6). Whether you see that as coincidence or simply a gentle reminder, today caused me to pause and reflect. For me, the number eight has long represented new beginnings, and today reminded me that beginning again doesn’t always happen because life went according to plan. Sometimes it happens because life changed us. Over the past few years, I’ve realized I’ve been grieving more than the loss of my father. I’ve been grieving the woman I was before illness, before loss, before plans shifted, and before life asked me to become someone I never expected to be. For a long time, I thought healing meant finding my way back to who I used to be. But today, I wonder if healing is really about having the courage to embrace who I am becoming.

     The Bible says, “Behold, I am doing a new thing” (Isaiah 43:19). It doesn’t say God is recreating yesterday. It says He is doing something new. That truth has become an invitation for me to release the expectations I once carried and receive this season for what it is. I may not be the same woman I was in 2024 or 2025, just as I wasn’t the same woman after becoming a mother, an author, or a survivor. Every season has shaped me into someone new. And perhaps that’s what new beginnings really are—not forgetting where we’ve been, but faithfully stepping into who God is calling us to be today. If this season has changed you too, don’t spend all your energy trying to become the person you were before. There is beauty, purpose, and hope waiting in the person you are becoming. Sometimes the greatest new beginning is simply giving yourself permission to begin again as you are.

A New Beginning Reading Journey

     If today has you reflecting on fresh starts, I encourage you to spend a little time with these passages over the coming days:

• Isaiah 43:19 — “Behold, I am doing a new thing.”

• Psalm 138:8 — “The Lord will perfect that which concerneth me…” A reminder that God is still completing His work in us, even when life has taken unexpected turns.

• Lamentations 3:22–23 — His mercies are new every morning.

• Philippians 3:13–14 — Releasing what is behind and pressing toward what is ahead.

• 2 Corinthians 5:17 — We are a new creation in Christ.

• Romans 8 — A chapter filled with hope, purpose, and the assurance that God is working through every season of our lives.

     As I embrace this new season, I’m learning that beginning again isn’t about becoming who I used to be. It’s about trusting God to continue the beautiful work He has already begun. I may not recognize every step of the journey, but I trust the One who is directing it. The same God who carried me through yesterday is faithfully preparing me for tomorrow, and He is doing the same for you.

Today Is What “Different” Looks Like

For the better part of a year, I noticed my body before I noticed the calendar.

The 5th and 6th of every month seemed to arrive in my nervous system before they arrived on the page. I would feel tired. Unmotivated. Quiet. Sometimes I would take naps without realizing why. My body remembered what my mind hadn’t yet acknowledged.

Today was different.

It wasn’t until later in the day that I realized it had been a year and three months since my father passed away.

That surprised me.

Not because I forgot him.

Because grief has changed.

There was a time when the 5th and 6th were filled almost entirely with sadness. They were heavy with the memory of loss. Today, they were filled with ordinary moments that quietly reminded me of him.

My younger son is home from college, and I caught myself thinking about how happy my father would have been to see him and to ask him when is the season starting.

My older son recently worked with a transportation company for a local event, and my immediate thought was, “My father would have loved the vehicle my son drove over the weekend.” He would have wanted to sit in it. He would have looked around and smiled. It would have become one of those ordinary moments that somehow became unforgettable.

I realized something today.

I’m not forgetting my father.

I’m remembering him differently.

For a while, I thought healing meant the sadness would disappear.

Now I think healing means the memories become larger than the moment of loss.

Instead of remembering the day he died, I’m remembering the way he lived.

The things he enjoyed.

The moments he would have loved.

The conversations we would have had.

The laughter we would have shared.

Today is what “different” looks like.

Not less love.

Not less grief.

Just a different relationship with both.

I still miss my father.

I always will.

But today, instead of my heart breaking over the date, it smiled over the man.

And maybe…

just maybe…

that’s part of healing too.

Wellness Wednesday

 

Hello August!!!!

 

Romans 8v28 - All Things Are Working Together

Kelly Price - It’s Gonna Rain

 

Thank You, July

As I look back on July, I realize that while I’m still in an interesting point in my life, I’m still grateful. Grateful for good days and not so good days. Grateful for the memories of my father and being gentle with myself as I continue to navigate grief, healing and realizing that I’m now showing up differently in different spaces.

I try to read more but it’s still a tad overwhelming since by illness nearly two years ago. Each day, I try to not harp on the bad things and focus on the good. 

I’m still learning to count it all joy. 🙏🏾

 

I Hear You Say - Joann Rosario