The Year I Flew into the Eye of the Storm

I wrote this on my birthday — July 13th.

Chapter 46.

And maybe that’s why these words feel heavier… fuller… more honest. Because last year, on this same day, I truly believed I was flying into one of the greatest seasons of my life. A season that looked like promise, elevation, answered prayers. A season I thought God had wrapped in celebration.

I didn’t know I was actually flying straight into the eye of the storm.

How could I have known I was headed right into the center of it?

The breaking.

The scattering.

The quiet shattering of pieces I didn’t even realize were still fragile.

Last year’s birthday wasn’t a beginning — it was a contraction.

A tightening.

A warning.

A labor pain I didn’t yet understand.

Everything I went through felt like remnants —

the fragments of a life stretched, shaken, tested

in ways I never expected… and in ways I wasn’t prepared to name out loud.

And still… I had to mother through it all.

Show up.

Be present.

Work.

Wipe tears — theirs and mine.

Hold the house together while trying to hold myself together.

Life didn’t pause for my storm, so I had to keep moving in the middle of it.

And what I love about God is this —

nothing is wasted.

Nothing.

He uses the good.

He uses the broken.

He uses the pieces you thought were too shattered to matter.

Even the fragments become part of the masterpiece.

But this year…

God gathered every single piece.

He took what was scattered

and rebuilt it into something intentional.

Something beautiful.

Something that finally makes sense.

Because here’s the truth I didn’t see last year:

I wasn’t breaking.

I was birthing.

Just like in the natural —

where pain comes before delivery,

where pressure comes before arrival,

where stretching comes before something new enters the world —

the spiritual works the same way.

Out of the pain came purpose.

Out of the remnants came revelation.

Out of the storm came a legacy.

There are details I can’t unfold here — pieces reserved for the book,

written in the quiet places where truth needed more room to breathe.

Remnants of Her Soul was born from that season.

My cookbook is forming in the quiet places.

Catered Chaos — the brand, the story, the legacy —

is being shaped in real time.

And somewhere in the middle of all that breaking and rebuilding, —

a new literary form was birthed.

A way of writing that carried memoir, spoken word, healing, and truth in the same breath.

A form born from the very remnants life tried to scatter.

A legacy my children will one day understand.

A legacy built from the pieces that survived the storm.

A legacy born the same way all births begin —

with pain, pressure, and a promise pushing its way through.

I’m not who I was last year.

I’m not who I was in the storm.

I’m the woman who walked out of it with clarity, strength, and a story that refuses to end in brokenness.

And now… stepping into Chapter 46…

I feel God turning the page with intention.

With promise.

With a whisper that says,

“This is the chapter you were meant to live.”

Catered Chaos is coming.

And this chapter —

this breath —

this becoming —

hits different.

Remnants of Her Soul: From Ruins to Restoration on Amazon

https://a.co/d/0eenJJaX