Dear Little Girl... You're Allowed to be in the "And"

After a quiet summer filled with both grief and reflection, I’m slowly finding my words again. Thank you for holding space with me. It’s an honor to relaunch this Dear Little Girl series with a letter that met me gently in the middle. I hope it meets you there too.

The studio took a deep breath this summer.

Scheduled classes paused.
The floors rested.
The music softened.

But joy?
Joy still found a way in.

It showed up at drop-ins.
It danced through summer camps with sidewalk chalk and tutus.
It curled itself around those unplanned moments—Freeze Dances and snack-time sillies and the way the tiniest ballerinas scooted closer just to be near “Mrs. Mermaid.”

Even in a quieter season, purpose was pulsing underneath it all.
And I felt God whisper:
“You’re still allowed to live in the ‘And.’”

This Morning, I Heard it Again—Soft but Clear:

"Purpose—with a capital P—is revealed in the doing.
But joy… joy is found when you follow the nudge inside."

And for me, that nudge?
It doesn’t always come with a title.
Or a paycheck.
Or approval from the world.

But it brings me closer to who I really am.

This Summer Taught Me This:

I can rest and still grow.
I can take space and still matter.
I can follow joy and be faithful.
I can honor what was and step into what is.

I used to believe I had to pick one story.
But now I know the truth:
I can live in the “And.”

And that lesson brings me back to my dad.

He loved me deeply.
And he didn’t always understand me.

He dreamed of passing down the business he built.
He wanted security for his kids.
He didn’t want us to struggle.

But I was a creative. A dreamer. A dancer.
And I chose a different path.

For a long time, I wondered if he was proud.
Because I didn’t follow the blueprint.
I followed the music.

But I see it now.
He loved me and didn’t get me.
He wanted to protect me and didn’t know how to guide me through the life I was made for.
He built a legacy with his hands.
I’m building one with my heart.

We were both builders.
Just in different ways.

And both are sacred.

Abraham’s Story in Genesis 22 Feels Different Now.

He climbed the mountain without a clear ending.
All he had was faith.
And that was enough.

That’s what I’m learning.
To surrender the outcome.
To walk forward without needing to know how it ends.
To hold everything—my story, my business, my gifts—with open hands.

Because the moment I cling too tightly, I forget the Giver.
And He is the one writing every chapter.

A Prayer for the Girl Who’s Learning to Trust the ‘And’

Dear God,
Thank You for the moments of joy that reminded me who I am.
For the slow days, the spontaneous dances, the deep breaths between seasons.
Thank You for my dad’s love—even if it came wrapped in misunderstanding.
Help me honor both—what he built and what You’re building through me.
Teach me to follow joy, not pressure.
To live open-handed.
To trust You with the “And.”
Amen.

Journal Prompt:
📖 Where do you feel like you have to choose just one part of your story?
🕊️ What would it look like to trust God with both?

Sweet girl, you’re allowed to live in the “And.”
And you are already enough.