Dear Little Girl…Put Down the Bricks

Dear Little Girl,

You've always wanted to get it right.

To make sure everyone is okay.
To keep the peace.
To solve the problem before it becomes a crisis.
To build something strong enough that nothing can fall apart.

So you pick up another brick.

A brick of responsibility.
A brick of worry.
A brick of control.
A brick of "what if."

And before you know it, you're carrying a tower God never asked you to build.

In Genesis, the people of Babel gathered with one goal: to build a tower high enough to secure their future and make a name for themselves.

Brick by brick, they trusted their own plans more than God's purpose.

But then we reach Pentecost.

Again, people gathered.
Again, many languages.
Again, uncertainty about what would come next.

But this time, they didn't build.

They waited.

They prayed.

They trusted.

And when the Spirit moved, what human effort could never accomplish, God did.

Do you see the difference, Little Girl?

One group tried to force the future.

The other trusted God with it.

Maybe that's the invitation for you too.

In your parenting.
In your marriage.
In your healing.
In your business.
In the questions you keep carrying around long after you've handed them to God.

Put down the bricks.

You don't have to manage every outcome.
You don't have to fix every problem.
You don't have to carry responsibilities that belong to God.

You don't have to build the tower.

You simply have to stay close to the One who already sees the whole picture.

The same Spirit who filled that upper room is alive and at work today.

He's not asking you to strive harder.

He's asking you to trust deeper.

So breathe.

Put down the bricks.

Step away from the tower.

And listen for the whisper.

You are loved.
You are seen.
And you never had to build the tower to prove your worth.

Love,

Your Older, Wiser Self

(The one still learning to put down the bricks too.)

Dear Little Girl…You Don’t Have To Chase God

Dear Little Girl,

The busy season is ending.

The performances have happened.
The schedules are shifting.
The deadlines that felt so urgent are beginning to loosen their grip.

And yet...

You still find yourself carrying things.

The questions.
The worries.
The hopes you have for people you love.

You thought peace would arrive when life finally settled down.

But peace was never waiting on a clear calendar.

Peace has always been a Person.

You keep thinking you'll meet God in the next season.

After the trip.
After the decision.
After the answer arrives.
After everyone is okay.

But what if He wants to meet you here?

Not in the finished version of the story.

Not after you've figured it out.

Here.

In the ordinary summer morning.
In the quiet cup of coffee.
In the walk around the neighborhood.
In the empty chair waiting for you to sit down.

You don't have to create a spiritual breakthrough.

You don't have to chase a feeling.

You don't have to prove your faithfulness.

Simply show up.

The same God who met Jacob while he was running.
The same God who met Hagar in the wilderness.
The same God who met the disciples in their fear.

He still meets people right where they are.

And He will meet you too.

Not because you've earned it.

Not because you've finally gotten everything right.

But because He loves being with you.

So take a breath today.

Let the pressure leave your shoulders.

You do not have to force the next chapter.

You only have to take the next step.

God is already there.

Waiting.

Love,
God

I Thought I Was Just Taking a Dance Class

This week I found myself subbing at DDF again after about a 9-month break.

And honestly?

It felt really good to be back.

The music.
The energy.
The women.
The joy of it all.

When class ended, my boss smiled and said, “It was nice to have you and your energy back in class, Hollywood.”

That’s what she always called me.

The old students talked about how much fun they had, and the new ones said they loved my energy. And standing there afterward, sweaty and smiling, something hit me…

Almost 11 years ago, I did something brave.

At 44 years old, I walked into a dance fitness class at the YMCA not realizing that one tiny decision would completely change the trajectory of my life.

At the time, I was just looking for movement.
For fun.
For something that felt like mine.

Graeme was little and loved the childcare there. I loved the instructor, Melissa. I remember feeling incredibly insecure back then. My body didn’t feel like my own. I was carrying weight physically and emotionally. My breasts had grown so large for my frame that I eventually pursued a breast reduction just so I could move more freely.

That may sound small to some people, but speaking up for myself back then was actually brave.

Especially in a marriage where I had slowly lost my voice.

And yet somehow…dance started giving it back to me.

When Melissa moved out of the country, I had to find somewhere else to dance, which led me to DDF. I still remember being nervous walking into that studio full of “mom dancers” and former real dancers.

Yes, I danced growing up, but not after high school. My dad used to say he “wasn’t raising a gypsy,” and if I’m honest, that comment still stings sometimes.

But maybe not becoming a professional dancer was never the point.

Maybe dance was simply waiting for me to come back to it when I truly needed saving.

Because the truth is, my life was heavy back then.

Trey was deep in addiction.
My mom’s health was declining.
We were helping care for my dad with dementia.
Will was busy with soccer.
JP was finding his way into the arts.
Graeme was still little.
And somewhere in the middle of taking care of everyone else…

I was disappearing.

But every time I walked into dance class and the music started, something happened.

Everything else got quiet.

I wrote in an old blog once:

“It is like whatever is going on around me just goes away like magic and it’s just me, the music, and the moves.”

And it was true.

Dance became my therapy.
My medicine.
My safe place.

It became the one place where my nervous system could finally exhale.

Without realizing it, I slowly began finding my voice again. And thank God I did, because not long after that came some of the hardest years of my life.

My mom died.
My marriage began to spiral.
Trey’s mental health collapsed.
I became a caregiver.
I watched my world crack wide open.
I wrestled with faith, grief, identity, fear, loneliness, and survival.

And through all of it…

Dance stayed.

There were days I truly understood how easy it would be to stop living while still technically being alive. I wrote this years ago:

“No, it is me waking up those days and saying I choose to live.”

That line hits differently now.

Because that’s exactly what dance helped me do.

Choose life.

Not perfectly.
Not all at once.
But one class at a time.

One song at a time.
One brave yes at a time.

And what absolutely blows my mind today is realizing that one tiny decision at 44 years old opened the door to the entire life I am living now.

Because of that one “yes,” I became a dance fitness instructor.

And because of THAT yes…

I now teach tiny dancers.
I work with special needs students.
I teach women how to reconnect to their bodies through MELT.
I help people feel safe in their bodies again.
I pour confidence into little girls.
I create.
I move.
I encourage.
I connect.
I heal.

And somehow in the second half of my life…
I became more myself than I have ever been.

That’s what hit me this week.

I thought I was just becoming a dance fitness instructor.

Little did I know…
I was becoming.

And maybe that’s what I want women to understand most.

Sometimes the thing tugging at your soul isn’t random.

Sometimes it’s God.

Sometimes it’s one tiny spark trying to lead you back to yourself.

You do not need a five-year plan.
You do not need a blueprint.
You do not need the whole map.

I certainly didn’t.

At one point I thought I was supposed to become an influencer or motivational coach or build some huge platform. But somewhere along the way, I stopped striving for the masses.

Now?
I just want to help one person feel seen.
One woman feel alive again.
One dancer feel confident.
One child feel worthy.
One hurting person feel safe.

That’s enough for me.

Actually…that’s more than enough.

So if there is something small tugging at you right now…
a class,
a dream,
a hobby,
a whisper,
an urge to create,
to move,
to try again…

listen to it.

Lean into it.

Go for it.

Because the truth is…

At 44 years old, I thought I was just taking a dance class.

Little did I know it would save my life.

Dear Little Girl…You Are Allowed to Receive

Dear Little Girl,

Maybe May swept you away too.

The schedules.
The people.
The performances.
The caregiving.
The constant doing.

Maybe you’ve been so busy surviving the season that you forgot you are allowed to be cared for too.

There is a lot on your shoulders right now.
Not in a way that is breaking you…
but in a way that feels heavy.

Your home has felt different lately.
The atmosphere has shifted.
There’s tension you can feel but not always name.

And yet…
you’re still showing up.

With compassion.
With strength.
With boundaries.

That matters more than you realize.

You are doing something you didn’t always know how to do.

You are loving…
Without losing yourself.

You are helping…
Without taking on what isn’t yours.

You are staying open…
Without abandoning your own safety.

That is growth.
That is healing.
That is Me in you.

But there is something deeper stirring in your heart today.
Something quieter…
But just as important.

You’re starting to notice it.

The way you struggle to receive.
The way you shrink back when attention turns toward you.
The way you brush off affirmation…
Even when part of you longs for it.

You wonder,
“Why is this so hard for me?”

Let Me gently show you something.

Receiving is not pride.
And minimizing yourself is not humility.

When you push away affirmation…
When you downplay who you are…
When you refuse to fully receive what is true about you…

You are not being humble.

You are struggling to believe what I already say is true.

You are My creation.
My art.
My intentional design.
Nothing about you was accidental.

Your compassion.
Your strength.
Your creativity.
Your loyalty.
Your fight.
Your softness.

It all came from Me.

So when someone celebrates you…
When someone sees you…
When someone speaks truth about who you are…

They are not inflating you.

They are recognizing something I placed inside you.

And when you deflect it…
When you minimize it…
When you immediately say, “Oh, it’s nothing…”

You dim something I created to shine.

You don’t have to become boastful.
You don’t have to become someone you’re not.
You don’t have to perform or prove anything.

You simply have to receive.

Receive the compliment.
Receive the help.
Receive the love that reaches toward you.
Receive the truth:

You are worthy.

Not because of what you’ve done.
Not because of how far you’ve come.
But because you are Mine.

Even in your hardest seasons…
Even in your mistakes…
Even in the moments you would rather forget…

You were still Mine.
You were still worthy.

So today…
Let this be the beginning.

Not of becoming someone new…
But of fully accepting who you already are.

You can be strong and soft, humble and seen, grounded and celebrated, all at the same time.

And one day…
You won’t shrink when the light finds you.

You’ll stand in it.

Peacefully.
Confidently.
Without apology.

Because you finally understand…

You are not the one being glorified.
I am.
Through you.

Love,
God