As I read the last 4 chapters today, I understood why I had to read this book. I think to some degree fear had paralyzed me and I could identify easily what I’ve made as idols in my life.
Using the app, I made a study guide for future reference.
Since, my illness reading has been challenging. Using the Kindle and Audible apps really helped me with finishing this book. 🙏🏾
I wrote the following post on August 18, 2019
I don’t think I was prepared to not have a first day of school. I didn’t want to go to church yesterday but a friend pretty much questioned my reasons and he didn’t even show up. 🙄Afterwards I took a nap with Solange playing, because that’s a thing for me. Then I remembered that while I may not have a first day, Tyler does, Alex does and some many other people that I love do.
Sometimes I want to be sad about the situation but those closest to me ain’t trying hear it. So with that being said I wish everyone a wonderful first day of school. I know that each of you bringing blessings to the building by simply pulling up to the school.
August 19, 2026
If everything had gone according to plan today would have been the beginning of my 25th year of teaching. At this moment it’s the milestone that is not happening. A part of me is sad and the other part of me encourages me to hold space for all of the things that have made me more resilient. It’s a moment to be gentle and loving to myself.
A couple of illnesses have taken me on different paths. I’ve had to learn to heal and to rest. I’ve also had to learn that just as seasons change so do our lives. With everything that I’ve been through I’d encourage teachers to take care of themselves and don’t over exert yourself. Practice self-care. Schedule your annual exams. Know your numbers.
So today, there may be no first day of school for me and no celebration of a 25th year, but there is still a life worth of honoring. I can miss the classroom, grieve the milestone that is not happening, and remain grateful for the lives I touched along the way. I will celebrate every teacher who is pulling up to a school building and bringing a blessing simply by being there. And I will remind myself that although my season has changed, the teacher in me remains. Still learning, still encouraging and still using what I have lived through to help others.
Instagram recently introduced a new wordmark after nearly a decade with its familiar script design, trading it for a cleaner, more modern custom lettering style—and, as expected, social media had plenty to say about it. (The Verge) Somewhere in the middle of all the opinions, I came across a creator who shared instructions for using ChatGPT to reimagine your own name in a style inspired by Instagram’s new look. I saved the idea, tried it just for fun, and LindarInsights got its Instagram wordmark moment.
What I love most about experiments like this isn’t necessarily creating a new logo or changing my brand; it’s allowing myself to stay curious. I’ve always enjoyed learning new technology, trying creative tools and seeing what I can make with them. Sometimes creativity doesn’t need a business plan, a strategy or even a purpose beyond I wonder what this would look like? This time, that little bit of curiosity produced the LindarInsights wordmark you see here—and I have to admit, I kinda like it.
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.
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:
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.
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.
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. 🙏🏾
Where my girls at? From the front to back. Are you feeling' that?
After an incredible Freshman & Sophomore school year, our family made the decision to transfer to Link Academy for the 2022-2023 school year.
Alex & Tyler discussed some of their basketball journey on the Courtside Takeover Podcast.
Ten years ago I wrote a blog entitled, “Falling For Charlotte”. I shared how my family fell in love with the city while attending a youth basketball tournament. I believe we were there for about two weeks and we stayed at two different hotels. Our family from West Virginia and South Carolina came to hang out with us. It was one of those trips where you didn’t want the day to end.
The last time I was in Charlotte it was to see my son play at the youth level. When I return it’ll be to see him play at UNC-Charlotte. 💚 I’m so grateful. 💚
There are some dates that become part of your story forever.
For me, May 5, 2025, will always be remembered as the day I lost my dog…and my dad.
That morning began like any other workday. My older son and I were getting ready for work when he quietly told me, “Don’t go look at Snow. She’s gone.” I didn’t fully process what he was saying. I walked over to where Snow always slept, hoping somehow it wasn’t true. But it was. Our sweet dog, who had been part of our family for more than a decade, had taken her final breath. Later that same day, my father passed away. Looking back, I don’t know that I ever fully grieved losing Snow because my heart was immediately consumed with grieving my dad. The two losses became forever connected in my mind.
Earlier this year, my younger son decided he wanted a dog. At first he had his heart set on a Bernese Mountain Dog, but after learning how much they shed, he began researching Bernedoodles instead. Before long, Jax became part of our family. What none of us expected was how much one fluffy, playful puppy would change all of our lives. Jax hasn’t just won over my son. He has won over me, my older son, my niece & nephew and even my mom & my sister. He is incredibly smart, endlessly affectionate, and somehow knows exactly how to make everyone smile. Watching him run through the house, or extend his paw to us, and discover the world has reminded me of something I didn’t even realize I was missing.
Jax will never replace Snow, just as no one could ever replace my dad. Love doesn’t work that way. But I do believe God has a beautiful way of sending unexpected gifts when our hearts are ready to receive them. After a season filled with unimaginable loss, Jax has brought laughter back into our home. He has reminded us that joy and grief can exist together, and that healing can arrive on four paws with a wagging tail and a heart full of unconditional love. Today, I am grateful—not only for the years we had with Snow, but also for the precious gift of a Bernedoodle named Jax, whose little life has become a gentle reminder that even after loss, love has a way of finding us again.
♡ “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” — Psalm 147:3
This evening I finished reading Fervent. I’ve probably checked it out digitally 3 if not 4 times. Prior to last night, I had read some of Ch...
