I reached a point where holding on to the life I thought I was supposed to live became more exhausting than letting it go. In that surrender, I found clarity, healing, and purpose. What once felt like loss became the very foundation of my calling. House of Rise & Pray was not built from perfection, but from obedience; born in quiet moments with God, strengthened through faith, and sustained by the courage to trust His plan over her own. "I had to release the life I planned to fully receive the life God purposed—House of Rise & Pray is the evidence of what happens when you surrender and still choose to rise."

I spent years building a career I thought I was supposed to have: safe, predictable, following someone else's blueprint. The moment I stopped performing the version of success other people expected and started building the one I actually believed in, everything changed. I let go of the title I thought defined me and started chasing the impact I knew I could have. That shift didn't just change my career. It changed who I was willing to become.

There was a point where the life I had built still made sense on paper, but no longer felt aligned in practice. It required me to move and operate in ways that didn't match how I actually think or lead. Letting go wasn't a single decision, it was a gradual recognition that I couldn't keep holding something that didn't fully fit. What followed wasn't immediate clarity, but the work of rebuilding with more intention.

I had a picture in my head for a long time. The house, the husband, the family that looked whole from the outside. Divorce has a way of stripping the picture from the frame. What I felt first was not grief for the marriage. It was grief for the story I thought I was in. Because when that version of my life ended, I did not yet know what the next one would be. I just knew I was standing in the rubble of something I had built my identity around, with four children watching me figure out what came next. The moment I realized the old vision no longer fit was not dramatic. I was sitting at my desk late at night, kids finally asleep, and I thought about going back to school. Not as an escape. Not as a plan B. But because for the first time in years, I was asking myself what I actually wanted. Not what fit the picture. What fit me. Letting go felt like learning to breathe in a different rhythm. It was disorienting and lonely and, underneath all of that, quietly clarifying. What I started building was not a replacement for the life I had imagined. It was something I had never let myself imagine at all. A life where my ambition was not something to shrink around the edges of someone else's comfort. A life where my children watched their mother choose herself, not out of selfishness, but out of conviction that she had something to give the world. I did not know who I would become; I just knew I was done waiting for permission to become someone.

For a long time, I followed the blueprint of what life was supposed to look like. Until one day, it didn't feel like mine anymore. That realization doesn't come with a roadmap. It comes with questions, discomfort, and a lot of unknowns. But it also comes with something else. The opportunity to rebuild. Letting go felt like loss at first. But in reality, it was space. Space to grow. Space to lead differently. Space to become who I was always meant to be. And if there's one thing I'd say to anyone in that moment… Trust it. Because the life you build after letting go? It's the one that actually fits.

The moment I became a mom is when I realized that it didn't have to stop me from reaching my goals. I love that my daughters have a front row seat to seeing mom have success and fail, how I handle hurts and pain. I love that they can learn from not only hearing but they are seeing it all. Most parents hide feelings and other important life experiences from their kids so much that when their children are older they realize they don't know how to respond because they never seen it first hand. My husband and I believe there is a line to what our girls see or hear and experience. At the end of the day, I feel good in knowing I show up no matter what and I keep trying and it's something I want my daughters to always remember.

When I was younger, I thought that I was supposed to live a life of limitation and fear due to the trauma I had experienced. However, I realized that my artistry and love for academia helped evolve me into a strong, powerful, intelligent, and successful woman in spite of my traumatic past.

Growing up, my dream was to become a social worker working with children. I always imagined myself helping kids through difficult situations and making a direct difference in their lives. For a long time, that vision felt like exactly who I was supposed to become. As I got older, though, life brought different responsibilities and realities into focus. I realized I needed a career path that would provide greater financial stability and allow me to better support my family. Letting go of that original dream was difficult because it felt tied to my identity and the person I thought I would be. There was definitely a sense of grief in admitting that the path I had imagined for years no longer fit the life I needed to build. What surprised me most was realizing that I did not have to abandon the core purpose behind that dream. While I did not become a social worker, I found another way to help people through health and benefits work. Helping companies support their employees still allows me to make a meaningful impact in people's lives, especially during stressful or vulnerable moments involving healthcare, financial concerns, or family needs. Looking back, letting go of my original vision was not really about giving up. It was about redefining success and understanding that purpose can take different forms than we first imagine. Building something new felt uncertain at first, but over time I realized that growth sometimes means allowing your dreams to evolve along with your responsibilities, priorities, and understanding of yourself.

The moment the cell doors closed behind me, every vision I had for my life shattered, but what I didn't know then is that sometimes things have to break completely before you can build something that actually belongs to you. Letting go wasn't a choice so much as a purpose, and what grew from that wreckage became who I was always meant to be.

Sometimes the life we imagined for ourselves may not fully align with who we've become. Letting go isn't giving up, it's having the confidence to trust that your purpose may be leading you somewhere even better.

There came a point when I realized I had spent years building a life around movement, survival, and everyone else's expectations: growing from intimate private events and weddings into managing large-scale festivals and arena concerts, always chasing the next big production. Choosing to slow down, put down roots in Montana, and create a life centered on family, creativity, and connection felt less like starting over and more like finally coming home, all while still pursuing a demanding and fulfilling career.

About 14 years ago, following the birth of my first child, I realized I needed a level of stability I didn't yet possess. Despite my background in property management, I buckled down to obtain my MLO and began my journey with UMH Properties Inc., embracing every opportunity to learn everything possible about manufactured homes.

There was a moment when I realized I had spent years trying to become the version of myself the world would applaud, while quietly drifting away from the version that truly felt alive inside me. Letting go was painful at first, but rebuilding a life that reflected my spirit, values, and deeper sense of meaning became the beginning of real peace. By the time, I learned that wisdom is not found in becoming more for the world, but in becoming more honest with yourself.

Taking the leap, letting go of what was expected of me, and fully embracing the path I wanted for myself was both exhilarating and terrifying. Most people thought I was at least a little crazy, but I knew in my heart it was the right decision for me.

I've spent decades trying to fit into a mold that was never meant for me, ignoring the inner knowledge that my path was meant to be different. Only recently have I truly embraced my authentic self. I know what I want to do, but I am working out how to make a living at it. While I'm still navigating what this new direction looks like, letting go of expectations has already brought an incredible sense of relief.

Letting go felt like grieving a version of life I had outgrown, while finally honoring the truth of who I was becoming. What looked like an ending was really an invitation to rebuild with purpose, courage, and a deeper alignment to my calling.

Working as a stage actress became impractical for my new lifestyle as a mom of three sons. Instead, I embraced voice-over, and I now narrate and produce audiobooks from my professional home recording studio!

I've never dreamed of coming to America. I was a General's daughter growing up; my family expected me to be a future Doctor. I had the resources and the pathway to achieve my goals. My life took a turn when I met my future love, got married, had a baby at the age of 19 and moved to America. I started from scratch, got my GED, Associates and BA, building my career in education. I am an educator with a Ms.Ed while raising 5 children. I hope to get my Ph.D in Education to make my family's dream come true.

As a teenager, I imagined becoming a doctor or a police officer. But life has a way of redirecting us. Moving to the U.S., the land of opportunity, changed my path entirely. While I didn't become a doctor, I still stayed close to science and built a fulfilling career as a scientist, mentor and a leader. Sometimes letting go of one dream makes room for an even greater journey.