From Lifeboat to Lighthouse

From Lifeboat to Lighthouse

Learning to stop carrying what God never asked me to carry.

This month marks seven years since I started this page.

Seven years of writing. Seven years of healing. Seven years of discovering who I am, who God created me to be, and perhaps most importantly, who I was never meant to be.

When I first started writing, I was walking through the aftermath of my first divorce. This page became a form of therapy for me. A place where I could put feelings into words when I didn't even know how to identify those feelings myself.

I was learning coping skills, recognizing unhealthy patterns, and beginning to understand why I had spent so much of my life believing I wasn't enough.

Not pretty enough. Not good enough. Not worthy enough.

I was learning how to express emotions I had spent years burying. I was learning that surviving and living are two very different things.

And somewhere along the way, I began to recognize something about myself.

I had spent most of my life trying to earn my worth by being everything to everyone.

I have always had a heart for giving. Helping others has always come naturally to me. But hidden beneath that desire to help were some unhealthy beliefs.

If I do more for others, maybe I'll be worth something.

If I give more, maybe they'll love me.

If I lead the event, organize the gathering, solve the problem, or make everyone happy, maybe I'll finally be enough.

I can look back over so many years of my life and realize that rarely did I stop to ask myself, "Is this something I truly want to do?"

Instead, I was asking, "Will this make someone proud of me? Will they be disappointed if I say no? Will they still love me if I stop giving?"

I had confused being needed with being loved.

And I had confused being useful with being worthy.

Learning to Be Whole

In the early years of this page, I entered my second marriage.

I was still searching for someone who would complete me. Someone who would finally show me what true love felt like. Someone who could fill the empty places inside my heart.

I placed so much of my value in relationships.

But I quickly learned that another person cannot heal wounds we refuse to acknowledge within ourselves.

That marriage was short. We both carried past hurts, and I was still learning who I was.

Having two failed marriages weighed heavily on me. I questioned myself constantly.

Was I the problem? Was something wrong with me? Was I simply too difficult to love?

After all, I had been told those things before.

And when you hear something enough times, you can begin to believe it.

But I was growing.

I made some incredible moves, took chances, and experienced things I had once only dreamed about. I was discovering the world around me while slowly discovering the person inside me.

During those years, I began focusing on my health.

I would turn my music up loud and walk.

Those walks eventually became runs. I discovered how much I loved being outdoors. Hiking, exploring, breathing in the fresh air, and experiencing the beauty of this incredible earth God created.

There was something healing about those moments.

With every step, I felt like I was finding another little piece of myself.

Finding My Way Back to God

Over the past five years, my relationship with God has become one of the most important parts of my journey.

Not just knowing about God.

But truly wanting to know Him.

Wanting to hear His voice. Wanting to understand His Word. Wanting to seek His direction rather than constantly trying to figure everything out on my own.

I still struggle.

I still question my decisions.

I still ask myself, "Am I doing this because God is leading me, or because I feel responsible for making everything better?"

I certainly don't have all the answers.

But I know that I love God.

I have learned to sit quietly with Him. To talk to Him like my closest friend. To open my Bible and search for wisdom. To pray when I'm happy, when I'm scared, when I'm confused, and even when I don't have the words.

And slowly, I am learning that a relationship with God isn't about having a perfect life.

It's about inviting Him into the imperfect one.

A Different Kind of Love

Today, I am in my third marriage.

For my husband, this is his first.

He always told me he only planned to get married once. Knowing he chose me to share that commitment with is something I have never taken lightly.

Our relationship is different from anything I have experienced before.

We give and take. We laugh. We disagree. We have wonderful days and difficult ones.

We come from completely different backgrounds and often have very different ways of thinking.

But we share something incredibly important.

We genuinely care about one another.

When differences arise, we work through them. We don't intentionally tear each other down or look for ways to hurt one another.

For someone who spent years believing love had to be earned, this has been a beautiful and sometimes unfamiliar experience.

We also share a heart for helping others and serving through missions.

I thank God for bringing this man into my life.

We are approaching our fourth wedding anniversary, and I can say that I love him more with each passing year. He is my best friend, my partner, and the person I love doing everyday life with.

But even a beautiful marriage doesn't mean life is without storms.

When Life Becomes Heavy

The past three months have brought challenges into our lives that neither of us could have anticipated.

Some situations are so unfamiliar and overwhelming that we honestly don't know how to navigate them.

We are doing the best we can.

We are learning as we go.

And I have found myself praying more deeply than ever before.

Sometimes I pray prayers that scare me.

Prayers that require surrender.

Prayers that mean letting go of the outcome.

Prayers that require me to trust God even when everything inside me wants to take control.

There have been days when I have felt completely exhausted. Days when I have wanted to give up trying to fix what feels broken.

But in those moments, I am reminded that God has not abandoned us.

He is still here.

Even in the uncertainty.

Even in the heartbreak.

Even when I cannot see what He is doing.

One of the situations we are currently walking through began after we left a customer's home.

My husband isn't someone who expresses his faith in quite the same way I do. So I can only imagine what went through his mind when I looked at him and said:

"God is telling me we need to help her."

Neither of us could have imagined where that decision would lead or how much it would change our daily lives.

But his response was simple.

"Who am I to tell you not to listen to God?"

And he has stood beside me ever since.

Helping. Giving. Sacrificing. Walking through the unknown with me.

I am incredibly grateful for that.

But these experiences have also forced me to confront something I have struggled with my entire life.

There is a difference between being called to help someone and believing I am responsible for saving them.

The Heart of a Mother

Together, we have five children.

Three are adults, and those relationships bring their own challenges.

After spending so many years as a devoted mom, learning to let my children spread their wings has not been easy.

I have had to learn when to offer advice and when to simply listen. When to step in and when to step back.

Then there are our two younger boys.

They were only eight and nine when they came into my life.

It had been years since I had little ones at home, and becoming a stepmom introduced me to an entirely different kind of love, responsibility, and heartbreak.

Being a stepmother is not always easy.

Sometimes you find yourself cast as the villain in a story you didn't write.

Sometimes you pour your heart into children who don't yet know how to receive that love.

And sometimes you have to remind yourself that their reactions aren't always about you.

These precious boys had lives before I entered them.

They had memories, happiness, heartbreak, and losses I could never fully understand.

It took me time to recognize that I wasn't there to erase their past or replace anyone.

I was there to love them through the chapters still being written.

Right now, our family is navigating an incredibly difficult situation involving the boys.

There are so many emotions, so many unanswered questions, and so much uncertainty that I honestly cannot put it all into words.

We don't know what tomorrow will bring.

But I know what I do every morning.

I pray over our boys.

I ask God to wrap them in His blanket of safety and comfort.

I pray that they feel loved, protected, and never forgotten.

I pray for healing in places I cannot reach.

And I pray for wisdom to understand what is mine to do and what I must place in God's hands.

Because I am learning that loving someone deeply does not mean I can control their journey.

And that may be one of the hardest lessons of all.

From Lifeboat to Lighthouse

This morning, as all these thoughts and emotions poured out of me, I was reminded of something I felt God place on my heart many months ago.

"Stop being a lifeboat. Stand tall as a lighthouse."

At the time, I didn't fully understand what those words meant.

But as life has unfolded, their meaning has continued to grow.

You see, for most of my life, I have been a lifeboat.

I have spent years rowing out into stormy waters, searching for people who needed saving.

If someone was hurting, I wanted to fix it.

If someone was struggling, I wanted to carry them.

If someone was unhappy, I felt responsible for making things better.

I would row into storms that weren't mine, take on burdens I wasn't meant to carry, and exhaust myself trying to keep everyone else afloat.

And when I couldn't save someone, I felt like I had failed.

I thought that was love.

I thought that was what being a good Christian, a good wife, a good mother, and a good person meant.

But I am beginning to understand something different.

God never asked me to be everyone's savior. He already sent one.

He didn't create me to spend my life being tossed around by every wave, desperately trying to rescue everyone around me.

He called me to stand firmly on His Word.

To let His light shine through me.

To be a source of encouragement, hope, compassion, and direction.

A lighthouse doesn't chase every boat caught in a storm.

It stands firm.

It shines.

It points the way.

And even when the waves crash against the rocks, its purpose remains the same.

A lighthouse doesn't calm the storm. It reminds those in the storm that there is a way toward safety.

That is who I want to become.

I still want to love people deeply.

I still want to serve, give, encourage, and help wherever God leads me.

But I am learning that I can love someone without carrying everything they carry.

I can pray for someone without trying to control their outcome.

I can offer a hand without losing myself in the process.

I can be present without being responsible for fixing everything.

And perhaps most importantly, I can trust God to do what only God can do.

For the One Who Is Tired Today

If you've made it this far, maybe there's a reason these words found you today.

Maybe you're the person everyone calls when something goes wrong.

Maybe you're the strong one.

The fixer.

The peacekeeper.

The one who always says yes, even when your heart is begging you to say no.

Maybe you have spent so many years taking care of everyone else that you no longer remember what it feels like to simply rest.

Maybe you're carrying a marriage, a child, a friendship, a family situation, or a burden that feels too heavy to hold another day.

I want you to hear something that has taken me years to understand.

You do not have to exhaust yourself to prove that you are worthy of love.

You do not have to earn your place in this world by constantly giving pieces of yourself away.

You are allowed to rest.

You are allowed to have boundaries.

You are allowed to say, "I don't know what to do."

You are allowed to love people and still place their struggles in God's hands.

And you are allowed to trust that God is working even when you cannot see the results.

I am still learning these things myself.

There are days I find myself climbing right back into that lifeboat, grabbing the oars, and trying to rescue everyone again.

But God continues to remind me:

Come back to the rock. Stand firm. Let My light shine.

My Prayer for You

If you are struggling today, my prayer is that you will find the courage to put down what was never yours to carry.

That you will stop measuring your worth by how much you do for others.

That you will find peace in knowing you don't have to have every answer.

That you will discover the beauty of a personal relationship with Jesus, where you can bring every fear, every question, every disappointment, and every broken piece of your heart.

And that when the storms of life come, you will remember that your strength doesn't have to come from your ability to keep rowing.

It can come from the One who holds you steady.

I don't know what the future holds for my husband, our children, or our family.

I don't know what tomorrow's challenges will look like.

I don't know how every situation will turn out.

But I know this:

I don't have to know everything about tomorrow when I know the One who holds tomorrow.

Seven years ago, I started this page because I was trying to find my voice.

Today, I pray that the words I share can help someone else find hope.

I am no longer trying to be the lifeboat that saves everyone.

I am learning to become the lighthouse that points them toward Jesus.

And if my story helps even one person find their way through the darkness, then every difficult chapter I have walked through can become part of a greater purpose.

The storms may still come. The waves may still crash. But by God's grace, I will stand upon the Rock and let His light shine.

"God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble." — Psalm 46:1 (NIV)

"Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you." — 1 Peter 5:7 (NIV)

From Lifeboat to Lighthouse.

I am still learning. Still healing. Still growing. But I am no longer trying to be the Savior. I am learning to trust Him.

And maybe today, you can begin that journey too.

Let your light shine. Someone out there needs to know they are not alone.