I love my family. And I love the quiet, creative life I’m building. This isn’t a contradiction—it’s my truth. I’m learning that I can love deeply and still need space. I can show up with heart and still protect my peace. This is my season of holding the AND: honoring both love and limits.
I couldn’t face the paperwork today, so I opened my closet instead. Four donation bags later, I realized I wasn’t just sorting clothes—I was sorting through emotions I didn’t have words for. Healing looks strange sometimes. Today, it wore pajamas.
For years, I wore the invisible uniform of a military spouse—quietly sacrificing my dreams, my needs, and often, my voice. I was taught to support the mission at all costs, even when the cost was me. But what happens when the mission ends… and you’re still disappearing? This post is for every woman who gave everything and is finally ready to reclaim herself
I thought the door was closing. I nearly canceled my barn quilt classes today—disappointed and defeated. But on Resurrection Sunday, the day we remember how hope rises from what seems lost, help arrived in the most unexpected way. Not with wings, but with name tags from Menards and Home Depot.
When I dared to ask for help, strangers became angels. And in that holy moment, I remembered: God often works through the hands of others… if we’re just willing to reach out.
This heartfelt journal entry reflects on the day my mother passed away—a sacred Friday marked by sorrow, reflection, and the quiet assurance that “Sunday is coming.” Through grief, betrayal, and unexpected loss, I share how faith in Jesus, the love of my husband, and the hope of rebuilding The Blue Bee continue to anchor me. A story of memory, mourning, and the tender unfolding of resurrection hope.
At just five years old, I started my first small business collecting black walnuts with my father—a humble beginning that planted the seeds of my lifelong passion for entrepreneurship. This heartfelt memory explores how faith, family, and creativity shaped my journey from selling walnuts to running a purpose-driven business rooted in connection and community. Discover how a childhood lesson under the walnut tree still guides my path today.
In this deeply personal reflection, Bethany shares how grief, strained family ties, and solitude led her through a season of despair—and how faith, healing, and quiet moments of beauty began to restore her. Anchored in Psalm 22, this post reminds us that even in our darkest valleys, hope still blooms. "What Begins in Despair Ends in Hope" invites readers to walk the path from sorrow to peace, one gentle step at a time.
