If you’re new here, I want to tell you the truth about how this started — not the polished version, the real one.
This didn’t begin as a ministry. It began as a private deal between me and God.
75 Days
I saw a post online about doing 75 days of agreement with God, and something in me said yes, that. Not a big vision. Not a platform. Just 75 days to get my actual life in order — clean eating, drinking water, real prayer, a home that felt cared for instead of chaotic. I wrote down what I was aiming for and handed it to Him. I wanted to draw nearer, strengthen my faith, and practice obedience in the ordinary, unglamorous parts of a day nobody applauds you for.
I was not trying to start something for anyone else. I was trying to survive my own life with more integrity than I’d been living it with.
But God had a way of turning my private 75 days into a bigger conversation. He kept bringing to mind everything I already knew we’re called to as believers — not new information, just a nudge that got louder the longer I stayed still with Him. And somewhere in that stillness, community stopped being a nice idea and started feeling like an assignment.
An Assignment I Didn’t Fully Want
I’ll be honest about this part, because I think honesty is the whole point of what I’m building. I didn’t ask for this. I asked for 75 days for me. What I got instead was a heart increasingly burdened for other people walking the same road — people who needed company in the ordinary in-between days, not just an hour on a Sunday.
Community has been genuinely hard for me to build in this season. I work a full-time job. I pick up gig work on the side just to stay financially afloat. There isn’t a lot of margin left for showing up in rooms the traditional way. So I brought the tension straight to God: how do I build community when my life barely has room for it?
Social media was the answer that kept coming back. Not to become another creator chasing followers I don’t actually know. I wanted engagement, not an audience — people I could actually walk with, not just perform in front of. So most of what I share stays mostly faceless — you won’t find me talking to a camera — but that’s a format choice, not a hiding place. You’ll still see real pictures from my actual life; what I’ve held back is the version of me performing for an audience. I am the community, and God is the altar we’re all gathering around. That’s the whole design: something that could feel like home for whoever wandered in, built on honesty rather than a persona.
I asked Him to confirm it was really His voice and not just my own ambition talking. He has, over and over, in ways too specific to have been a coincidence. So I kept building — one study, one prayer, one blog post at a time — trusting I’m far from the only person out here walking by faith and not by sight, trying to figure out what obedience looks like on a regular Tuesday.
The Wrestling I Don’t Always Show
What I share publicly is real, but it isn’t raw. There’s a difference, and I hold that line on purpose. So here’s what’s true, even in the more careful version: this walk has cost me something almost every week.
There have been mountains that felt genuinely impossible — financial ones, mostly, the kind where you sit down and map every dollar against every bill and the gap on paper looks bigger than you expected. I’ve had to learn the difference between lack and stewardship, and it’s humbled me more than once. I’ve had moments at work and in relationships where I had to own something I would have rather looked away from — because I want to be the same person behind closed doors that I am in front of anyone watching.
There’s been a wilderness season too, one that’s touched the longest relationships in my life. I asked God to prune me. He has. Pruning is not gentle just because you asked for it. I’ve felt isolated at times — some of that isolation necessary, some of it a stone I’ve gotten too comfortable carrying. I still wrestle with control, with wanting to manage outcomes instead of just being faithful with what’s in front of me.
And there’s been real doubt. Not performed doubt for content — actual doubt, where I’ve asked God if He’s listening even while the evidence around me said He clearly was. Faith and doubt have coexisted in me more often than I used to admit.
The Growth I Didn’t Expect
What surprised me most wasn’t the hard part. It was how much lighter I’ve gotten, one stone at a time. Every act of honest surrender — the ones nobody sees, the quiet obedience nobody claps for — has added up to something I can actually feel now. Less white-knuckling. More trust. Not because the mountains disappeared, but because I stopped needing to see the whole road before I’d take the next step.
I’ve watched myself become someone who shows up scared and does it anyway. Someone who prays for a stranger even when she turns down the water I offered. Someone who’s still learning — not arrived, not polished, not qualified in the way I used to think mattered — and who’s decided that’s allowed. The disciples asked questions too. They doubted too. They were still invited to walk right beside the answer.
There’s been real joy in this, and I don’t want to undersell that part. Joy in provision showing up exactly when I needed it. Joy in watching a study I wrote for myself land on someone else’s heart. Joy in realizing I don’t have to have it all figured out to be useful to God’s plan for someone else’s day.
Why I’m Telling You This
I’m not sharing this to be impressive or to be a cautionary tale either one. I’m sharing it because I know what it’s like to sit in the pew on Sunday, mean every word of the worship, and then go home Monday and feel like nobody actually knows what you’re carrying.
This is my attempt to close that gap — for me, and for whoever finds this. Not a curriculum handed down from someone who’s arrived. A real, still-unfolding walk, opened up so you have company in it. The stones I lay down here are mine. But I believe the God who meets me at this altar is more than willing to meet you at yours too.
Together, we touch and agree — He is faithful, even in the middle of the mountain.
This blog is where I keep laying stones down in real time — the studies, the wrestling, the small victories. If any part of my story found you today, I’d love for you to stay and walk a while.