
I'm here to help light up the darkness, inspire, and help other mums feel seen and less alone through my musings on life, motherhood, and mental health, intertwined with my faith and grief. This is a space for REAL motherhood - the good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly. Here, I promise to be open, vulnerable, and honest.
Here, you are seen, and you are heard.
There was a time when my faith felt like something solid that I could always rely on. I knew what I believed, I knew who I prayed to, and I was confident that my faith was strong enough to fuel my prayers so that God would always come through for me. But then the thing I prayed hardest for in my entire life didn’t happen.
Easter is usually seen as a celebration of hope and new beginnings. But for some of us, it can be hard to reconcile the message of resurrection and victory when your life feels more like Good Friday than Easter. So, in today’s blog post, I want to offer a different perspective of the Easter story to help you hold onto hope.
Most people often think of faith as something strong and unwavering. It’s an assumption that faith means you’re certain and confident all the time, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth.
We often grow up believing that family is important. Family is supposed to be our safe place; the people who have your back, who will protect you, understand you, and love you unconditionally. So, what happens when family hurts you?

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