Author: Sam

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The Unexpected Gift: How an Abundant Mindset Changes Everyday Life

photo of hands untying a ribbon

It was a random January morning.

The Christmas tree was halfway out the door at my boyfriend’s house— ornaments wrapped, pine needles everywhere, holiday magic officially clocked out—when we spotted it.

A small gift under the tree.

The tag read: Faith — my oldest daughter.

Somehow, in all the Christmas hullaboo (wrapping paper explosions, charcuterie boards, hot cocoa refills, general chaos), we had missed it. I gave it to her the next morning, and her face lit up like it was Christmas all over again.

Not because it was big.
Not because it was expensive.
But because it was unexpected.

A gift on a boring January day hits differently.

And that’s when it hit me…
That’s what abundance actually feels like.

When Too Much Makes Us Blind

Every Christmas I have the same thought as I watch my older kids tear through gifts at Olympic speed.

So much money.
So much effort.
So much wrapping.

And they rip through it like raccoons in a Target aisle.

One or two gifts get a big reaction. The rest get politely stacked aside. Not because they’re ungrateful — but because when everything comes at once, nothing really lands.

I’ve seriously wondered if we should try Twelve Days of Christmas — one gift a night. Let things breathe. Let gratitude have a fighting chance.

Because what we don’t slow down to notice, we don’t really receive.

Scripture Was Way Ahead of Us

Paul figured this out long before Amazon Prime:

“I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances… whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.” — Philippians 4:11–12

The key word is learned.

Contentment isn’t automatic. It’s trained.

And that’s why he could say:

“I can do all this through Him who gives me strength.” — Philippians 4:13

Abundance isn’t about what’s in your hands.
It’s about what you’re rooted in.

We Miss the Gifts Because There Are So Many

We are surrounded by blessings we barely notice:

Warm food.
Safe homes.
Group text messages from our pals that have you snorting out coffee in a work meeting.
Comfy beds.
Bodies that still work (mostly).

Wayne Dyer nailed it:

“Abundance is not something we acquire. It is something we tune into.”

We don’t need more — we need attention.

The Unexpected Gift Mindset

That forgotten January present became a little mantra to my heart.

Abundance feels best when it’s unhurried, unforced, and slightly surprising.

Psalm 23 says:

“The Lord is my shepherd; I lack nothing.”

Not “I have everything.”
But I lack nothing.

That’s the abundant mindset.

Living Dazzled

Oprah says:

“The more you praise and celebrate your life, the more there is in life to celebrate.”

I want to live like someone who just found a forgotten gift under the tree.

Grateful.
Present.
Quietly delighted.

Because abundance doesn’t always shout.

Sometimes it whispers:
Look at what you already have. It’s right there you just have to look under the branches.

And when you do, you realize…
Your life is already full. 💗

-Sam

Photo by Ivan S on Pexels.com

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The Cling of Faith: Lessons from a Holiday Hug

I was Christmas shopping at the mall with my boyfriend and my daughter—the kind of outing that feels festive and exhausting all at once.

I was not at my best.

I had a cold. I was run down. Fatigued in a way where your soul needs a nap, not just your body. All I wanted in that moment was hot peppermint tea and mercy.

So we stopped at a Coffee Bar and ordered.

As we waited, I turned to my boyfriend and said, “I’ve basically felt like a sloth all week.”

Without hesitation, he laughed and said I was his little sloth, opened his arms, and pulled me in for a big, warm hug. The kind that makes your nervous system exhale.

And because I was fully committed to the bit, I wrapped one leg around him—sloth-style—like I was clinging to a tree branch for dear life.

We cracked up.

A man walking by stopped and stared. Like really stared. Which made us laugh even harder. My boyfriend joked that the guy probably wasn’t used to seeing that much affection—and honestly, there was a look of longing on his face that stuck with me.

At the time, it was just a funny moment. One of those unscripted flashes of joy you don’t plan for.

But God had plans.

Later that night, I sat down to do my devotion, and the topic was union with God.

The exercise was simple:
Place your palms together. This represents intimacy.
Now, intertwine your fingers. This represents union.

And instantly, my mind went back to the mall.

The hug earlier that day? That was intimacy. Close. Warm. Comforting.

But when I wrapped my leg around my boyfriend—when I clung—that was something more. That was union. Not in a sexual way. Just connection. Integration. Two becoming linked instead of merely touching.

And suddenly, I realized…

That’s what I want with God.

I don’t just want moments of closeness.
I don’t want drive-by prayers or once-in-a-while spiritual hugs.

I want union.

I want to intertwine my life with Him.
I want to cling.
I want to be the little sloth wrapped so tightly around the tree that separation doesn’t even make sense.

His Spirit in me.
Me holding onto Him.
God in me, and I in Him.

Because life apart from God? That’s a barren wilderness. Dry. Exhausting. Performative. I’ve lived there. I know that terrain well.

But abiding? Remaining? Union?

That’s where life flows.

Jesus said, “I am the vine; you are the branches.”
Branches don’t visit the vine.
They don’t check in occasionally.
They stay connected—or they wither.

I don’t want to visit God anymore.
I want to abide.

I want to know Him deeply. Live integrated. Become one. Not striving, not grasping, not white-knuckling my way through life—but clinging in trust.

Like a sloth on a tree.
Held. Supported. At rest.

And maybe the healing we’re all longing for isn’t found in trying harder…
but in holding closer.

-Samantha

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Recognizing Emotional Abuse in Friendships

I didn’t plan to write about this. Honestly, I would’ve rather written a post about holiday elf antics or the importance of good lip gloss while prepping holiday meals. But after almost a year of repeatedly being called a few choice names I won’t print on my blog, and—my personal favorite—being told I’m “going to hell” via LinkedIn, I decided it was time to put pen to paper (or keyboard to blogosphere).

Not because I want to rehash drama, but because I realized something: we talk a lot about emotional abuse in dating and marriage, but rarely admit that it can happen in friendships too.

And if I, a grown ass, therapy-loving, boundary-practicing woman, can still get blindsided by it—maybe someone else out there is quietly grieving over a friendship they can’t explain.

So here we are.

This isn’t a rant. It’s a release.
A little truth-telling with a side of grace (and maybe one raised eyebrow).
A love letter to every person who walked away from a friendship and wondered, “Does this make me the bad guy?”

You’re not. And if no one’s said it yet… welcome to the conversation we should’ve been having all along.

The Friendship No One Warns You About

Almost a year ago, I confronted a friend about some things that had been bothering me for a while: negative, critical comments directed at me and my relationship. Thinly veiled jealousy. Small jabs. Sarcastic digs. The kind of comments that leave you feeling a little smaller every time you walk away.

I didn’t yell. I didn’t attack. I scheduled a sit down and simply said, “This hurt me.”

The response? Textbook deflection. Minimized my feelings. Flipped it. Ghosted me for a few weeks.

Texted me “I’m sorry you think I’m negative.”

Hmmmmm….

So, I asked for space. Set a boundary. And quietly walked away from a relationship that no longer felt safe.

I kept waiting to miss the friendship. Feel sad or any emotion. But none came. I actually felt better without someone actively popping holes in my balloon on a daily basis.

And then things escalated in a way I honestly never saw coming.

Her husband began sending harassing messages to both me and my boyfriend. For months. Texts, voicemails, and even LinkedIn messages after I blocked him on my phone. Under the guise of “clearing things up,” the messages were full of pressure, guilt, and accusation.

Nine months of it.

Recently, we ran into them. We were still at a distance when my boyfriend and I looked at each other and silently agreed: Let’s bail. So, we turned around and walked out. (I had received another crummy message only the week before from him)

That night, our phones lit up.

We were called cowards. Pathetic. Cruel. Horrible people. Bad words were used. It was ugly. I was told I abandoned her and threw away the friendship “like trash.”

I cannot tell you how disorienting it is to be harassed, attacked, and then portrayed as the heartless one who walked away.

I felt misunderstood, slandered, and honestly—emotionally battered.

It took me a minute (okay, more than a minute) to realize:
This wasn’t just “a conflict that got out of hand.”

This was emotional abuse in a friendship.

Wait… Can Friends Be Emotionally Abusive?

Short answer: yes.

Friendship abuse doesn’t always look like screaming or threats. Often, it looks like that kind of “friendship banter” that isn’t actually banter?

Like when every hangout includes at least one “harmless joke” that lands somewhere between ouch and did she really just say that?
Or the sneaky little jabs about your ex, your life choices, your faith—wrapped in a smile and the feeling that somehow you are the “project”.
(Translation: I get to say something rude, you’re not allowed to react.)

Then you finally set a boundary—and suddenly you’ve committed a felony. Cue the silent treatment, guilt trips, or the unofficial Friendship CNN segment titled What’s Wrong With You and Why Everyone Should Know About It.

Try to express how you feel, and faster than you can say “emotional maturity,” they’ve shape-shifted into the wounded party.
Or they tag in their spouse like it’s WWE’s Monday Night Friendship Smackdown.

You ask for space, but instead of space you get monologues. Long ones. Delivered across multiple platforms. Sometimes even LinkedIn—because nothing says emotional stability like spiritual threats sandwiched between job endorsements.

You pull back, and within days there’s a brand-new storyline starring you as The Cruel, Unstable, Possibly Demonic Former Friend Who “Changed.”

And here’s the kicker:
If this were a romantic relationship, every woman you know would immediately start Googling therapists and divorce attorneys on your behalf.

But when it’s a friend?

Suddenly it’s:
“Oh, she’s just lashing out.”
“He’s protective of her.”
“You’re being too sensitive.”
“Come on, you’ve been friends for forever…”

Meanwhile, your nervous system is in the corner waving red flags like it’s trying to land a plane.

Why It’s So Hard to Call It What It Is

It feels dramatic to say, “My friend is emotionally abusive.”

We’d rather say things like “She’s just intense,” or “He can be a lot sometimes, or even sugar cookie it up with “We had a falling out.” Meanwhile, you’re losing sleep, replaying conversations in your head, and second-guessing your own reality.

Part of what makes this so hard is that, deep down, most of us are terrified of being seen as the bad guy, especially when the other person is already out there telling people you’re cruel or abandoning them. And it’s not like you didn’t care. You’ve got years of shared history… inside jokes, holidays, birthdays, even vacations together. There were real laughs, real connection, and losing that hurts.

Plus, many of us—especially as women—have been conditioned to keep the peace at all costs, to smooth things over even if it means swallowing our truth. And to complicate it further, they’re not awful all the time. There are good moments, which makes it so tempting to minimize the hurt, explain it away, or tell yourself “maybe it wasn’t that bad.” But what I had to accept (through tears, not toughness) was this: the way someone reacts when you set a boundary tells you everything you need to know about the health of the relationship.

And that truth is loud, even when spoken quietly.

Healthy friends might feel hurt or confused, but they don’t harass you, insult you, or recruit others to attack you.

They aren’t angry because you’re cruel—they’re angry because you didn’t give them unlimited access to you anymore. That is not friendship. That is entitlement.

Red Flags of Emotional Abuse in Friendship

If you’re wondering whether a friendship has crossed the line into emotional abuse, here are some signs to pay attention to:

  • You feel anxious or tense before seeing them or answering their messages.
  • You leave interactions feeling smaller, ashamed, or “less than.”
  • They mock your feelings, partner, faith, job, or dreams—and then say you’re “too sensitive.”
  • They never genuinely apologize—only deflect, minimize, or blame you.
  • They make you feel guilty for having other friends, interests, or boundaries.
  • They use information you’ve shared vulnerably as ammunition in conflict.
  • When you pull back, they escalate—bombarding you with messages, insults, or pressure.
  • They twist the story with others so they look like the victim and you look like the villain.

If you see yourself in this, please hear me:

You are not weak for feeling hurt. You are not bad for stepping away. And you are not “un-Christian” for protecting your heart.

What It Looks Like to Protect Yourself

I’m still working this out, but here are some things I’m learning:

1. You’re allowed to go no contact.

You do not owe anyone unlimited access to you—especially someone who is actively hurting you or sending in their hit man to guilt you into submission.

Blocking someone after months of harassment is not petty. It’s self-protection.

2. Document the harassment.

Screenshots. Saved voicemails. Dates. Platforms.
If things escalate, this becomes important. Emotional abuse is still abuse. Repeated harassment is still harassment.

3. Resist the urge to defend your reputation to everyone.

Let people think what they want. The ones who truly know you will ask, “Hey, are you okay? What happened?” instead of assuming the worst.

You don’t have to send a group statement. You don’t have to build a case. Your life, character, and consistency will speak for you over time.

4. Remember: their reaction is a diagnosis, not a verdict.

They may call you horrible, selfish, unstable, or “going to hell on LinkedIn”
That doesn’t make it true.

Often, the things abusers call you are projections of what’s going on inside them.

5. Let yourself grieve.

You did lose something. Even if it was unhealthy, it was still real to you.

Grieve the friend you thought you had. Grieve the future you imagined with them in your life. Let those tears come—they’re part of healing, not weakness.

Moving From “Why Me?” to “Thank God I’m Free”

I won’t pretend this process is neat and ted up with a pretty bow.

Some days, I feel strong and clear thinking, I did the right thing.
Other days, I feel shaky and misunderstood: How did we get here?

But underneath the swirl of emotions, one truth remains:

God is not in the business of guilting you into staying in emotionally abusive spaces.

Peace is often quiet. Not dramatic. Not loud. Just a deep knowing: I am finally safe enough to exhale.

If you’re reading this and realizing, I think I’m in an emotionally abusive friendship, I want to gently say:

You’re not crazy, you’re not overreacting and you’re allowed to step back or even walk away entirely.

You are worthy of friendships where:

  • You can share your heart without it being weaponized.
  • Apologies are real, not manipulative.
  • Boundaries are respected, not punished.
  • Disagreements lead to deeper understanding, not character assassination.

That’s not asking too much.
That’s what healthy love looks like—even in friendship.

Blessings-Sam

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God, the Stag, and My Control Issues

Sometimes the most jarring wake-up calls are the sacred ones.

It was early morning, the darkest hour before dawn, when the world feels both half-asleep and half-holy.
My mind raced ahead: carpool, client calls, meal planning. It was the usual pre-sunrise chaos.

The roads were empty as I crossed the bridge into Ladera Ranch—a deep canyon below, a sports park to the side. Routine, until suddenly, it wasn’t.

Out of the darkness, a flash of a movement in front of me.

A stag appeared, massive and majestic, impossible to miss. We locked eyes for a single breathless second. Beauty, strength, power. And then came the impact.

The front right side of my car struck him hard. It felt like I’d hit a brick wall. My hands clutched the steering wheel as the car buckled and screeched, metal groaning beneath me. Somehow, I managed not to lose control.

I slowed to a stop and looked back just in time to see the great animal stagger, then collapse. I sat there frozen, tears already spilling, unsure what to do. I was on a bridge with nowhere safe to pull over, and my car sounded like it was falling apart. Truthfully, I was falling apart too. Every light on the dashboard flashed red, screaming at me. I whispered frantic prayers, hoping the awful clicking sound wasn’t his antlers caught under my car.

When I made it home, I rushed inside sobbing. My girls hugged me and let me cry. We rearranged carpool.

Then I called my dad. He’s the one person who always picks up before dawn. He talked me down, guided me through insurance and accident reporting, and reminded me to breathe.

The repair bill was close to $10,000.
But the damage to my spirit? It raised far deeper questions.

Because I didn’t just hit a deer.
It was a stag.

The Weight of What It Meant

That morning has haunted me. Every time I drive over that bridge now, especially at night, my chest tightens. I slow down. I look both ways. And I wonder what God was trying to show me.

I felt like I’d just murdered Bambi—well, a grown-up, fully-antlered version of him anyway. I took down one of God’s creatures, and my heart just broke. It wasn’t roadkill; it felt personal.

The stag has always symbolized strength and masculinity, this noble, almost sacred energy. In myth and Scripture, he’s the king of the forest, the protector, even a reflection of Christ Himself. So why on earth did I have to collide with that?

Maybe because I needed to.

You see, I’m writing a book right now about faith and femininity, about reclaiming softness in a world that applauds hustle. That morning felt like a divine object lesson, one I never would have asked for.

I could almost hear God’s sigh, “Sweetheart, you can ease off the gas now. You’ve been driving in your masculine lane way too long.”

It felt like a turning point. It was one of those moments when God gently reminds you that strength isn’t about control anymore. It’s about humility. About letting go of the striving so something softer, wiser, and truer can rise up in its place.

And that pierced me deeper than the impact.

What the Stag Showed Me

As a single mom and business owner, I’ve lived in masculine energy for years, always leading, fixing, and solution finding. It kept me afloat, but also made me guarded.

Now I’m with a beautifully masculine man who cherishes and protects me, making it safe to soften. For (almost) two years now, I’ve been learning to exhale. With him, I can live in lightheartedness and peace, enjoying the grace of being emotionally cared for. I get to be the woman who laughs easily, moves slowly, and radiates calm.

I can release the control.
I can choose quietness over power.
I get to live in that quiet confidence of the feminine that trusts she’s protected and secure.

And not in some cringey, submissive way—please, I’m way past that—but in a beautiful rhythm where the masculine and feminine actually dance instead of me clumsily stepping on his toes and trying to lead.

A Cosmic Collision

Hitting a stag stays with you. It doesn’t just bruise your bumper; it leaves a mark on your soul. The beauty of the creature and the violence of the moment exist together in this unbearable tension.

And maybe that’s the point.

The coexistence of beauty and destruction in transformation.
The reality that awakening often costs something sacred.
And a deep reverence for life itself.

-Samantha

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Gracefully Removing Yourself from a Dumpster Fire: How-to

a hand holding a mug near the wooden table with letter board

There comes a moment in most women’s lives, usually somewhere between the group text meltdown and post-dance mom competition, when it hits you:
“Wait… are we just… gossiping right now?”

And then there’s the slow horror of knowing it’s your turn to say something. Or not.
You feel it in your stomach. Your conscience is squirming. Your inner people-pleaser is sweating bullets.
You want to shut it down.
You also want to avoid sounding like a total jerk.

Because let’s be honest:
Most of us don’t want to be that girl.
(You know, the one who starts quoting Proverbs mid-convo while everyone’s still passing guac and chips.)

But you also don’t want to sit there and give approval while someone verbally sets fire to another human being’s reputation.

So what’s a grown ass woman, with decent boundaries and a heart for Jesus, supposed to do?

First off: It’s going to feel weird, and that’s okay.

Standing up to gossip feels uncomfortable. Especially when it’s subtle. When it’s dressed up in concern. Or half-whispers. Or Christianese.

No one hands you a script. No angel shows up and says, “Speak now, O daughter of the King!”
It’s just you, your conscience, and your internal dialogue freaking out:
“Do I say something? Do I fake a bathroom emergency? Do I order another drink and hope this goes away?”

Here’s the good news: you don’t have to make it awkward. You just have to make a choice.

Here are my 5 Favorite Ways to Shut It Down

1. The Casual Pivot

“Oh wow. Hey, have you tried that new taco place by Target? So yummy.”

This is your smooth redirection, like you used to do with your toddlers when they wouldn’t give up a friend’s toy. Your emergency exit. Bonus points if it’s a totally unrelated topic like gluten-free muffins or microblading your eyebrows. No one will know what hit them.

2. The Unexpected Compliment (my personal favorite)

“You know, I’ve actually seen her handle that really well. She’s been through a lot.”

It lands softly, but it hits hard. You just quietly reminded everyone there’s a whole human behind the tea.

3. The “It’s Me, Not You” Move

“I’m working on not repeating stuff I didn’t hear firsthand. Could we change the subject?”

It’s the modern vibe of “Girl, you do you, and I’ll do me.” You’re not calling them out. You’re owning your own growth. No shame. Just a quick shift of gears with a side of maturity.

4. Poof! Gone

“Be right back!”
(This is where you hide in the bathroom)

You’re allowed to leave the conversation. Even mid-sentence. Even if it’s your mom group, small group, or carpool crew.

5. Stop and Pray

“Let’s pray for her.”

Depending on your audience, this may bring things to a halt. Or it may get awkward. Real awkward. But hey, sometimes, doing the right thing isn’t easy. At the very least, it plants a seed and shifts the topic.

The Harsh Truth

“A gossip betrays a confidence; so avoid anyone who talks too much.”
— Proverbs 20:19

Look. This doesn’t mean ghost your friend for life because she shared something she shouldn’t have.
It just means, don’t match her energy.
Don’t pick up what’s not yours to carry.
Don’t toss logs on a fire you weren’t called to ignite.

A Few Reminders

  • You can be wise and warm.
  • You can protect peace without preaching a 3-point sermon.
  • You can excuse yourself from the table without making a scene.

This isn’t about shutting people down. It’s about not letting someone else’s verbal diarrhea suck you in.

You’re not the gossip police.
You’re just trying to honor truth more than drama…and that is more aligned with the heart of Jesus.

Reflect

  • When was the last time I sat in a gossip-y conversation and said nothing, but felt awful?
  • What would it look like to leave one of those moments with quiet dignity instead of regret?
  • What phrase should I keep in my back pocket to pull out for next time? And I promise you, there will be a next time. With women…there always is.

Keep fighting the good fight.

—Sam

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The Mouth Speaks What the Heart Is Full Of

Day 3 of the Gossip Detox Series
(aka: Just because it came out of your mouth doesn’t mean it started there.)

There’s a verse I’ve wrestled with for years. It’s short. Sharp. And just annoying enough to be true.

“Out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks.”
— Luke 6:45

Ouch, right?

Because if that’s true… really true, then the salty, sarcastic, and slightly unkind things I say from time to time? Yeah… they didn’t just come from nowhere. They came from me.

Deep breath.

Now, before we all spiral into guilt and start deleting our group chats, let’s take a second. This isn’t about shame. This is about awareness. It’s a heart check, not a scolding. And I’ll go first.

Spiritual Arrows

So, here’s the thing: sometimes my words are, well… less than righteous. Not always. But occasionally. (Okay, more often than I’d like to admit.)

And every time I say something unkind about someone—even if it’s low-key, even if it’s funny in the moment, and then that person walks by? Instant gut punch. Like I shot an arrow I can’t retrieve. It didn’t physically pierce them—but it nicked something in me. In my heart.

Because even when our words never leave the room, our spirit knows what we did.

Gossip Isn’t a Mouth Problem

Let’s be real for a second. Gossip doesn’t just come flying out of our mouths because we ran out of things to say or we had two glasses of wine and slipped. It comes from deeper stuff: our wounds, our brokenness and our ego.

  • Validation: When we feel small, saying something that makes me look better or “more together” than someone else gives a cheap little ego boost. It feels good—for about 7 seconds.
  • Control: Sometimes gossip is about owning the narrative. If you can plant the idea first, you get to set the tone, steer the room, or protect yourself from being misunderstood.
  • Comparison: Christian women are so good at this one, aren’t we? We’ve learned how to wrap critique in spiritual packaging. (“We all need to pray she just needs to surrender that area to the Lord.”) Really?
  • Entertainment or Status: And then there’s the one that stings the most—repeating something juicy because it makes you feel in the know. Like being validated by your proximity to information. (Even if that info is half-baked and wholly unconfirmed.)

None of these motivations serve anyone. And they create a distance between us and the heart of God.

💃 Dance Moms and Dodging the Fire

There’ve been so many times, especially as a dance mom, where I’ve had to make a choice in the moment:

  • Walk away from a gossip tea party
  • Step in and change the subject
  • Or go find the dads and talk about fantasy football and work

Sometimes I’ve gotten it right. Other times… not so much.

But the older I get, the more I’ve learned: It’s not about controlling the room. It’s about guarding my own heart… and my peace. Because once a fire is lit, you don’t always get to control what it burns.

Reflect

Take five minutes and sit with this:

What have my words revealed lately about what’s going on inside me?
Fear? Envy? Insecurity? Exhaustion?
Or maybe… a heart that’s just been running on empty?

Reset

  • Is there someone I’ve spoken about recently that I need to pray for, or even apologize to?
  • What’s one thing I can say instead of gossip when I feel the urge to speak?
  • Where can I invite God to heal what’s leaking out of my words?

Coming Up: Day 4 – “How to Shut Down Gossip Without Being Awkward or Self-Righteous”
(Yes, it’s possible)

You can read all the posts (or sign up to get them by email) at ScrappySam.com 💛

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Holy Hush: Silence Is a Spiritual Practice

A minimalist beige graphic with the title "Holy Hush: Silence Is a Spiritual Practice" in bold black serif font. Below the title is a simple black line drawing of a teacup with steam rising. At the bottom, it reads, "Day 2 of the Gossip Detox Series" in warm brown text.

 (aka: When in doubt, don’t blurt it out.)

There’s this thing I’m learning–slowly, stubbornly–that silence can actually be holy. Not awkward. Not passive. Not weak. Just… quietly powerful.

And I’ll be honest with you: I haven’t always been great at it.

Ever let an errant thought slip out that you immediately wanted to reel back in like a rogue balloon at a toddler’s birthday party? Yeah. Same.

I’d love to say I’ve never entertained less-than-charitable thoughts about people–but that would be dishonest. Shocker: I’m human. People can irritate me or get on my nerves and sometimes I don’t even know why? (but that’s a whole different blog)

But what I’ve realized over time is this:
-Not every thought needs to be shared.
-Not every person is a safe person to share it with.
-And not clapping back? Sometimes it’s a spiritual discipline–not just a social one.

Let me explain..

🥴 The Drunk Neighbor and the Moment of Clarity

A while back, I was at a party at a close friend’s house. You know, a casual backyard thing–easy vibes, lots of laughter. I felt relatively safe there. I’d shared a lot of my life with this friend. As in, deep-heart felt stuff. The kind of stuff you don’t throw around lightly. 

Thoughts. Dreams. Fears. 

And then one of her neighbors sat down next to me. Let’s just say she was… a little past tipsy. (Okay, she was hammered.)

And right there, in the middle of the party, she started giving me unsolicited relationship advice–based on every personal detail I’d ever told my friend. Not vague stuff. She knew things. Things I’d never said out loud to anyone but my friend.

Cue that sick to your stomach stomach feeling.

In one sad, uncomfortable moment, it all clicked:
-My friend wasn’t a safe space.
-My story had become someone else’s narrative.
-And gossip? Yeah–it doesn’t need a microphone to burn everything down.

🕊️ Jesus Didn’t Always Use Words

One of the most powerful examples of holy silence in the Bible? Jesus before Pilate.

“But Jesus made no reply, not even to a single charge–to the great amazement of the governor.”
 – Matthew 27:14

He was accused. Mocked. Misunderstood.
He had every right to speak up, to defend Himself, to lay it all out.
And He chose silence.

Not because He was weak. But because He focused on  the end game and a higher goal. His silence wasn’t passive–it was intentional.

And if Jesus could stay quiet in the face of false accusations… maybe I can hold my tongue when I’m tempted to vent in the group chat.

 Why We Always Feel the Need to Fill the Space

If you’re anything like me, silence can feel… uncomfortable. Like you’re letting something slide or giving up ground. But most of the time, when we feel like we have to speak, it’s coming from a place of:

  • Wanting to be understood
  • Wanting to be right
  • Wanting to protect our image
  • Feeling awkward
  • Or just needing to fill the space

But the older I get, the more I’m learning this:
Just because you can say something doesn’t mean you should.

🧠 A Simple Challenge for Today: The 3-Second Rule

Before you respond–pause for 3 full seconds.

Ask yourself:

  • Is this true?
  • Is it necessary?
  • Is it kind?
  • Will I regret saying this later?
  • Would I want this shared at a party by a tipsy neighbor?

If you’re unsure? Choose the hush. Let the Holy Spirit say what you almost did.

🙏 A Prayer for Day 2

Lord, teach me the beauty of silence.
Remind me that wisdom doesn’t always need words.
Help me to resist the urge to explain, defend, or control how I’m perceived.
Give me discernment to know when to speak–and grace to stay silent when silence is sacred.
Heal the places in me that feel like I have to say something to prove I matter.
I want to be known for peace, not noise.
Amen.

💡 Reflect & Reset

  • Has silence ever saved you from regret?
  • Who are your safe people–the ones you can actually trust with your story?
  • Have you ever gone public with something that maybe… should’ve stayed sacred?

Coming Up: Day 3 – “The Mouth Mirrors the Heart”
 (It’s not just about words–it’s about what’s simmering under the surface.)

Subscribe to get the rest of the Gossip Detox Series

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When the Tea Turns Toxic

aka: Let’s all take several seats and check our sources, shall we?

We love a little tea, don’t we? Something about being “in the know” feels like power wrapped in connection. And when someone hurts you—or someone you love—the urge to pour yourself a hot cup of righteous indignation and serve it to a few close friends (or your entire group chat) can feel almost… spiritual.

But here’s the thing about tea: if it’s brewed in bitterness, it burns everyone who drinks it. Even the one holding the kettle.

Lately, I’ve found myself standing in the fallout zone of some false narratives. Not your run-of-the-mill misunderstandings, but full-blown fiction with just enough facts sprinkled in to sound convincing. The kind of storytelling that edits out key details, slaps a bow on the pain, and passes it around like a plate of gluten-free cookies—looks wholesome, but leaves you queasy.

And the damage? It’s not theoretical. It’s personal. It hurts people I love. It splits families. It hardens hearts.

They say “hurt people hurt people”—and yes, that’s often true. But here’s what we forget: hurt doesn’t equal honesty. Sometimes pain distorts. And when distorted pain becomes a viral narrative, it can quietly destroy the reputation of someone who did nothing wrong. Or, at the very least, nothing that warranted public stoning via passive-aggressive status updates.

And then social media? Oh, it tosses gas on the whole situation.

We scroll past a photo or read a vague post and suddenly think we’re Nancy Drew with a moral compass. “I saw that one photo. She didn’t even smile. Something’s definitely going on.”

Really?
Do we know the heart? The history? The conversation that happened before or after that post?
Probably not.

And that’s where the Holy Spirit—who thankfully doesn’t need a Wi-Fi signal—whispers:

“That’s not your business.”

🍵 The Problem With “Just Talking About It”

Let’s get into it. The Bible doesn’t leave a lot of gray area on gossip. It’s never labeled as a personality quirk or a coping mechanism. It’s destructive.

“The words of a gossip are like choice morsels; they go down to the inmost parts.”
— Proverbs 18:8

Translation? Gossip sticks. It’s the bad glitter of human behavior—it goes places it shouldn’t and is almost impossible to clean up.

Even when we think we’re just processing…
Even when we slap a “bless her heart” on the end of the sentence to soften the blow…
Even when we start with, “I probably shouldn’t say this, but—” (Girl. If you’re saying that? You definitely shouldn’t say it.)

🙊 Why We Gossip (Even When We Know Better)

Spoiler: it’s not because we’re mean. We gossip because:

  • We want to be included
  • We want to protect someone we care about
  • We want to feel morally superior (ouch)
  • We’re hurt—and we want that pain to feel justified

The tricky part? It’s all very relatable.
The dangerous part? It’s all very flesh-driven.

When we repeat something that doesn’t belong to us—especially if it subtly (or not-so-subtly) tears someone down—we stop being peacemakers and start being spiritual pot-stirrers. And nobody needs more of those.

🕊️ The Better Way

Jesus never said, “By this everyone will know you’re mine—by how eloquently you take people down in the comments section.”

He said we’d be known by our love.

Love holds its tongue.
Love double-checks the facts.
Love refuses to write people off based on curated half-truths and relational cliff notes.
Love might want to vent, but love also wants to obey.

And yes—it’s hard. But so is cleaning up the aftermath of words we can’t take back.

🙏 A Prayer for Day 1

Lord, I want to be a woman who speaks life, not suspicion.
When I’m tempted to repeat something that isn’t mine to share, stop me mid-sentence—preferably before I hit “send.”
When I feel justified in taking verbal aim at someone else’s character, remind me of how You covered mine.
Heal the places in me that need validation more than transformation.
And give me the wisdom to know when silence is not weakness—but worship.
Amen.

💡 Reflect & Reset

  • Have I ever believed or repeated a story that turned out to be distorted—or one-sided?
  • Have I been misrepresented? How did it feel?
  • What might shift in me if I paused before every comment, post, or share and asked: “Does this build, or does this burn?”

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10 Bible Verses for Anxious Moms (That Actually Help)

Personal Note from One Mama to Another

I’m watching my darling daughter-in-law juggle two babies under two, and I’m taken right back. I remember those days of complete surrender—when a quiet time, a shower, and maybe a quick workout (AKA a brisk walk with the stroller) defined self-care and sanity. In those early years, there was a fine line between letting go of anxiety and letting in the moments that took my breath away: tiny arms wrapped around my neck, first words and giggles, the magic of seeing the world through brand-new eyes. Was I terrified a seagull might eat my itty-bitty newborn when we walked on the pier? Yes-but I pushed through the new mommy phase and gained confidence one sippy cup at a time.

But then life got busier—school drop-offs, sports, scraped knees, and building a life that felt both full and complete. And then, the bottom fell out. I became a single mom. And anxiety? It stopped being an occasional visitor and became a constant companion. When you’re carrying the financial weight, the emotional load, and the spiritual burden alone—it’s no longer just stress. It’s survival.

During that season, quiet time wasn’t a sweet addition to my day—it was my oxygen. I couldn’t breathe without God’s presence. I still can’t.

Motherhood will test you in ways you never imagined. It will grow you, stretch you, and sanctify you. These verses below are the ones I’ve clung to in the early years, the single-parent years, and now—as I raise my youngest teen daughter and watch my children become parents themselves.

If you’re reading this while wiping tears or eating leftover macaroni off your toddler’s plate and calling it lunch—these verses are for you, too.

You’re Not Alone: What the Research Says

If you’ve ever wondered, “Is it just me?”—the answer is a compassionate no.

  • The American Psychological Association found that 46% of moms report high levels of stress, especially those with children under 18.
  • A 2023 study in The Journal of Affective Disorders revealed that moms are especially vulnerable to anxiety and depression due to role overload, sleep deprivation, and cultural expectations.
  • And here’s the hope: A 2019 study in Psychology of Religion and Spirituality found that spiritual practices—like prayer, scripture meditation, and trusting in God—are linked to reduced anxiety and greater emotional resilience.
  • Neuroscientist Dr. Andrew Newberg even found that consistent spiritual habits can physically change the brain to help you stay calmer and more emotionally grounded over time.

In other words, your quiet time isn’t just a spiritual discipline—it’s a healing practice.

The Scriptures That Carried Me—And Still Do

Here are 10 verses that helped anchor me in the stormiest seasons of motherhood. I return to them often—and I pray they speak life and peace over you today:

1. Philippians 4:6–7

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God…”
➡️ God invites you to release the worry and come to Him with every messy, real fear.

2. Isaiah 26:3

“You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you.”
➡️ Peace is promised—not perfection—when your eyes stay fixed on Him.

3. 1 Peter 5:7

“Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.”
➡️ God isn’t distant. He’s a loving Father who wants your burdens.

4. Matthew 11:28–30

“Come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest…”
➡️ You don’t have to earn rest. It’s your inheritance.

5. Psalm 94:19

“When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought me joy.”
➡️ Even in spiraling moments, His comfort reaches you.

6. John 14:27

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you… Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”
➡️ Jesus offers a kind of peace the world can’t mimic—steady, deep, and real.

7. Proverbs 3:5–6

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding…”
➡️ You don’t have to figure everything out. Trust unfolds peace.

8. Psalm 121:1–2

“I lift up my eyes to the mountains—where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord…”
➡️ God is your steady help when you feel like falling apart.

9. Lamentations 3:22–23

“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning…”
➡️ Motherhood may deplete you—but God’s mercy refills you daily.

10. Zephaniah 3:17

“The Lord your God is with you… He will quiet you with his love…”
➡️ God doesn’t just fix problems. He soothes your anxious heart with His presence.

Bonus Resources for Your Journey

If you’re looking for more support, encouragement, or just a good cry-laugh while folding laundry, here are some grace-filled reads:

📚 “Mom Set Free” by Jeannie Cunnion
📚 “Midnight Mom Devotional” by Becky Thompson
📚 “Calm My Anxious Heart” by Linda Dillow
📚 “Rhythms of Renewal” by Rebekah Lyons

A Final Word, Mama

You don’t have to carry all of this alone. Your anxiety doesn’t disqualify you. You’re not a bad mom because you cry in the pantry or lose your marbles in Target. You are human. You are held. And you are wildly, fiercely, faithfully loved by a God who is not overwhelmed by your overwhelm.

He is with you in the endless bottle sterilization, in the pickup line, in the midnight teething wakeups—and right now, in this moment, as you take a deep breath and read these words.

And if no one has told you today: You’re doing better than you think.

-Samantha

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Surviving Air Travel Chaos with Kids

Flying With a Toddler

By Mimi, Frequent Flyer, Occasional Vomit Catcher, and Rookie Grandmother

Last Saturday, I boarded a plane from Texas to California with my 2-year-old grandson Ryder. His mom and dad (my son) had just welcomed a new baby, and in the thick of their big move, they needed a tiny (read: turbo-charged) break from their toddler tornado and I needed some bonding time. So, naturally, Mimi to the rescue.

Let me tell you something right now: if you’ve ever flown with a toddler—or sat within a five-row radius of one—you deserve a medal, a nap, and possibly therapy.

It All Started Out So Well…

I had snacks packed, a sticker book in hand, the milk and the binky at the ready. We breezed through security. I felt invincible, like Mary Poppins with a stroller and a carry-on.

Then our plane was delayed. And this, dear reader, is where things descended into full-blown toddler travel chaos.

The Meltdown (Literally and Figuratively)

About an hour and a half into our wait (thanks to a delay), Ryder’s tummy revolted. He threw up five times. FIVE. TIMES. Right there in the terminal. I was holding my cupped hands under his mouth like I was trying to save his soul in baptismal waters. A stranger tossed me a single napkin like it was going to fix the Titanic. (Bless him.)

We scrambled to the restroom. I cleaned Ryder, myself, and my ego. When I emerged, everyone—everyone—was gone. Turns out they changed our gate, and in my impromptu hazmat cleanup, I missed the announcement.

What followed was a frantic series of elevator rides, a long tram, and a hike that felt like we were crossing the Mojave. We made it to the new gate with 60 more minutes of waiting to look forward to.

Survival Mode at 30,000 Feet

We finally boarded. I broke out the sticker book. Ryder slapped stickers on every surface within reach—including my forehead. I limited water and snacks because his tummy was on strike, and I prayed Despicable Me 4 would hold his attention longer than my bladder could.

At one point, he got fussy. I pulled out the emergency lollypop, a sweet peace offering. Five minutes later, he dropped it into the abyss of the airplane floor, where no grandparent dares to reach.

Arrival: Sweet Mercy

I have never been more grateful to hear the words, “We’ve begun our initial descent.” When we landed, my darling boyfriend—affectionately known as Papa—picked us up. Ryder smiled and shouted “PAPA!” like he hadn’t just used my body as a human mop.

Grace for the Journey (and the Jelly-Stained Onesies)

Here’s what I learned:

  • Control is an illusion. You can have the snacks, the sippy cups, the screen time strategy—all it takes is one tummy to remind you who’s really running the show.
  • Kids aren’t the only ones who melt down. Adults just get quieter and more resentful when they do it.
  • Strangers are kinder than we think. One napkin. One knowing smile. Sometimes that’s all it takes to get you through.
  • Pack an extra shirt. For you. Trust me.
  • Laugh when you can. Cry when you must. And then laugh again later when you retell the story.

A Few Mimi Travel Tips for the Brave:

  1. Don’t underestimate the power of stickers, lollypops, or downloaded movies. Also: backup lollypop.
  2. Triple bag your essentials. Because when everything’s soaked in milk/vomit/yogurt, you’ll thank yourself.
  3. Tell the gate agent you’re traveling with a toddler. They might help you, or at least point to where your gate moved to.
  4. Give yourself the same grace you give your toddler. You’re not failing. You’re parenting/grandparenting in public with a small wild animal.

For the weary traveler—parent or grandparent—here’s your reminder:

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” – 2 Corinthians 12:9

Even when you’re holding your hands out to catch barf, grace shows up—in the sweet older gentleman who sat next to us and smiled gently, a toddler’s giggle, or a well-timed “Where’s PAPA!” at baggage claim.

And when in doubt? Just get on the plane. There’s a story waiting for you on the other side.

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