Holy Mess, Whole Me

I didn’t plan to start a blog. At least I didn’t plan to start one again. I used to write all the time. I have over 200 posts on another site filled with my thoughts from seminary, tips and tricks on homemaking and homeschooling, and a variety of other topics. I worked really hard for a long time to share my thoughts out in the world. And then, something shifted.

I convinced myself that my voice wasn’t necessary — that my story was just something to quietly survive, not something to share. I was the pastor’s wife. The encourager. The nurturer. The mom who shows up. The woman who keeps it together. I watched others thrive while quietly telling myself, and others who would ask on occasion, that my story isn’t anything new. I mean, after all, the Bible does say there is nothing new under the sun. Anything I could have had to say has already been said for years and years, so what could I possibly have to add. I faded into the background, becoming a quiet background character in my own story.

Until one day it all just came crashing down.

Somewhere between the Sunday mornings, the late-night diaper changes progressing to the long days of homeschool and endless activites, the marriage counseling sessions that felt more like emergency rooms, and the silence I kept swallowing — I lost her.
I lost me.

This space, Holy Mess, Whole Me, is not a place of perfection or polished answers. It’s the story of a woman who is learning to love herself in the middle of the mess. It’s the truth behind the titles — pastor’s wife, mother, ministry partner — and the quiet ache that no one else saw.

It’s about realizing that belief doesn’t cancel out brokenness.

And that wholeness doesn’t come from hiding.

💔 The Mess

I used to think being strong meant never falling apart. That God expected me to hold everyone else up — even if I was collapsing inside. I wore a smile like armor and carried prayers like burdens. I made peace with being invisible because I thought that was my job. Countless hours of study, both personal and within the classroom, led me to believe that a woman, a wife of any real quality was reserved and controlled unless she was out there fighting for those she cared about most.

But behind closed doors, I was exhausted. My marriage was strained, motherhood was overwhelming, and I couldn’t remember the last time I did something just for me — not for the church, not for the kids, not for anyone else.

💛 The Becoming

Then one day, something shifted. As time goes on I will be sharing more of that shift, but for now just know it was and has been one of the most painful shiftings I have lived through yet.

Now slowly I have begun to hear the quiet whisper inside of

“You matter too.”

The problem is I’m still fighting to believe that whisper.

And that whisper is becoming a prayer.
That prayer I hope will become a boundary.
That boundary can turn into a habit.
And slowly, I might start finding me again.

Not the perfect me. Not the version I have told myself people expected.
But the real me — the woman God created before the titles, before the roles.

🌿 The Why

I started this blog because I have a lot of thoughts and feelings that need to be let out in a more healthy manner and this seems like a good way to do that.
But also because maybe you’ve felt this way too.
Maybe you’ve been the one everyone leans on — but no one sees.
Maybe you’ve been faithful and still feel forgotten.
Maybe you’ve been surviving so long, you forgot what healing feels like.

This is for you. For us.

I’m at the very beginning of it. Still wrestling. Still becoming.
But I believe there’s beauty in telling the truth — even when it’s messy.

So welcome to Holy Mess, Whole Me.
Where we balance belief, brokenness, and becoming — together.