In 1999, a spoken-word piece was released as a kind of essay for the graduating class of 1999. I remember how intriguing it was, especially since it wasn’t really a song at all. There’s more to its history, but it became especially meaningful to me this weekend after I got a terrible sunburn.

Well, I made it a year.  And I’m proud of myself for doing something hard—being vulnerable, sharing my story, and sticking with it.

If I look irritated in my driver’s license picture, it is because I am.  Today I went to the driver’s license place…the place where, according to the internet, the hours are 8:00 a.m. to 4:30 p.m., with absolutely no indication that they are closed for lunch.  So imagine my surprise when I arrive at 12:45 p.m. and there is a large sign that says they are, in fact, closed from 12:00 p.m. to 1:00 p.m. for lunch.  But let’s take this back a minute. Or a few days to why I needed to go to the driver's license place.

Today, on Labor Day, I decided to do anything but labor.  Instead, I reached into my creative place and started a LEGO project.  About three minutes in, I was certain I had bitten off more than I could chew. My immediate response was to message my LEGO Master, Kole, and ask if he could just come home and do it for me.  He didn’t  respond.  I’m guessing he knew I needed to figure this one out on my own.

Of all the things that could make a comeback, I think it is the jelly shoes for me.  I picked myself up a pair just today for less than $4, and I feel a sense of joy.

My topic for today was going to be integrity but I didn't have it all worked out in my head quite yet.  Then, before I could start writing, I heard Reba McEntire's song "You Lie" on the radio. I don't know if you've ever had one of those moments when something just seems to land at exactly the right time, but as I listened to that song, I thought, Well, I guess I know what I'm supposed to write about.  Integrity it is.

On this primary Tuesday, I'm reminded of a few things. Perhaps the most disheartening is that our political candidates just aren't what they used to be.

Recently, the local paper in Pittsburg, Kansas, ran a subscription campaign, explaining that it depends on readers like us to keep the paper alive. I don't know much about the newspaper industry, but it did get me reflecting on what newspapers have meant to me over the years.

I have always been drawn to sunflowers. I wasn't born in Kansas, but from a young age my mom taught me about the state and its history. Since sunflowers are the Kansas state flower, they have become a familiar and beloved part of the place where I've lived for most of my life.

I got to see Toy Story 5 yesterday, and my heart was full.  The moment the excitement started building around the movie, I knew I wanted to see it. Then you throw in the Taylor Swift connection, and, of course, it made the experience even better.

This week, someone I knew died by suicide.

I don’t know that I would call this my very best childhood memory, but today’s clock quote got me thinking about life growing up. Puzzles were always a part of it.

What are you allowing to steal your joy?  

Yesterday, I got in my car and heard the song Hallelujah Anyway. Most days lately, you’ll find me listening to an audiobook while I drive, but this time K-LOVE was playing, and the song stirred something in me.

I saw my therapist last week and found myself talking about something that has been on my mind a lot lately—my spending. More specifically, the way I sometimes use spending as a coping skill.  I told her I’m starting to see it for what it can be: a maladaptive coping mechanism. Even though I often frame it as something good—thrifting for others, picking up little things to brighten someone’s day—there are times when it crosses a line. And if I’m honest, I can feel when it does.  

A couple days after National Cat Lady Day felt like the perfect moment to pause and remember some of the beloved pets who have shaped our lives.

Twenty years ago, around Easter, my daughter was born.

I woke up this morning with the catchy tune “Charlie O’ the Mule” stuck in my head—and honestly, that felt like a pretty great way to start the day.

Picture used with family permission.

How do you want to be celebrated?

March… I love everything about it. It probably doesn’t hurt that it is my birthday month too.  Emails full of birthday discounts, the fresh spring air, the chance that you might have a 70-degree day or you might have snow.  And my favorite color, green, seems to be highlighted everywhere all month long. 

As I get older, I find myself forgetting pieces of my early childhood years. It’s funny how pictures can bring it all rushing back—the faces, the laughter, the friendships that once felt like the center of your world.  It reminded me of something powerful:  We may forget the moments, but we never forget how people made us feel.

Valentine’s Day has never really been my thing—at least not in my later years. I mean, making Valentine pouches out of construction paper and stickers was cool (yeah, I’m that old). But my biggest flashbulb memory of Valentine’s Day? Getting chicken pox in high school.

Spoiler alert…I didn’t watch the Grammys this weekend,  And honestly, I don’t feel much of anything about it. The hype wasn’t for me. Lately, the tension and politics in the world feel overwhelming most days, and skipping it felt like self-preservation. Still, it got me thinking about music—and how deeply it has always been woven into my life. Sometimes, it wasn’t just background noise; it was a lifeline.

The other day, my daughter asked me a question that caught me off guard:  

I don’t know about you, but the older I get, the more I notice my attention span isn’t quite what it used to be. Not long ago, my husband casually said to me, “It’s your ADHD.”  I was like—what? I don’t have that.  He just chuckled and started listing all the things I begin and then abandon. His number one pet peeve? I don’t shut cupboards or push drawers in. (Hehe.)

As I’ve shared before, resolutions really aren’t my thing. Instead, I lean into the One Word concept—choosing a single word and allowing my year to unfold around how that word shows up in my life (check out my other blog on this topic).  This year, my word is FREEDOM, and I’ve been pleasantly surprised by how often it has already appeared. Maybe freedom even means freedom from all the goals I feel pressured to set.  So, as I look ahead to 2026, I’ve been asking myself: What do I actually want this year to bring me? These are a few things currently on my mind.

I can admit when I do something a little silly.  A few months ago, I was on the hunt for a new vehicle for my husband. He’s spent years putting our family first, sacrificing and going without, and I finally decided it was time he had something reliable—and nice—to drive. He’s not a car guy by any stretch. He doesn’t like to talk money, hates the back-and-forth of negotiations, and honestly, he’s happily let me handle our last few vehicle purchases. Usually, I just text him when it’s time to sign.  So, as any good wife would do, I started doing the legwork. Lots of text messages, lots of photos, lots of follow-up questions. One afternoon, as he was showing me a truck he liked, I got a random message from someone at a local dealership asking if I was interested in selling my current car. Strange timing, right? Almost like someone knew we were looking…  I started texting back and forth with this person—who was incredibly helpful. They answered all my questions promptly, had all the info I needed, and honestly got me moving quickly toward setting up a test drive. They were professional, thorough, and made the process painless. So before locking in our appointment, I asked, “By the way, what’s your name? You’ve been so helpful.”  She responded:  “My name is Whitney! I’m happy to help get everything lined up and looking forward to seeing you Monday morning.”

Man, do I LOVE Christmas. I love the twinkly lights, but maybe most of all, I love finding the perfect gift. There’s something meaningful about truly understanding a person and choosing a gift that reflects who they are.

For many, joy is a happy, upbeat word—often categorized as a form of happiness. But for me, joy is so much bigger than that, and quite honestly, not always happy.

2 Thessalonians 3:16

I truly enjoy the Christmas season. As a praise and worship leader for many years, I didn’t always feel that way—at least not fully. Christmas songs were never my favorite, not because of the lyrics or their meaning, but because the notes were almost always too high. And every December seemed to arrive with an extra layer of stress: the expectations, the decorating, the constant bustle.  But the twinkly lights… those are my jam.  There is nothing like sitting in a quiet, dark living room with only the Christmas tree lit. In those still moments, there is a special kind of peace—an invitation to breathe, to be present, to remember.  As a leader in the church for many years, I was blessed to help guide our congregation through Advent. My favorite years were always the ones when God nudged my heart to choose someone to share one of the Advent words—Hope, Peace, Joy, or Love—and simply let them run with it. Those were raw, powerful moments that came straight from the heart, not read from a script. So as the Advent season approaches again, I felt compelled to offer my own reflections this year, beginning with Hope.

I often suggest writing a letter to my clients—sometimes to someone they miss, sometimes to someone they’re angry with, and sometimes to themselves. Letter writing can have such a healing quality. When someone is feeling conflicted, I’ll often say: Sit down and write a letter. Don’t worry about punctuation, the occasional swear word, or whether your sentences run on. Just write. Get every feeling out.  I preface it with this: You are not sending this letter. This is simply a way to get the feelings out of your mind and onto something outside of you.  When you’re done, read it over. Notice whether something showed up that you didn’t even realize you were upset about. Then scan your body from head to toe. What do you feel? Relief? Tension? Sadness? Name it. From there, decide:  Are there pieces of this I actually want to share? Or am I okay now that I’ve released it?  Most of the time, I find I never need to send the letter to feel better.

This month I’ve found myself reflecting deeply on the military—what it means to our country, but also what it has meant to me personally as a mother.

I can finally say it out loud: I was fired.  Now, those weren’t the exact words that were said to me. What I was told sounded much more polished and political:  “The job you’ve held for the last three years is being restructured… we’re going in a different direction.”  Translation? I was fired.  At the time, those words hit hard. I poured so much of myself into that role — late nights, extra projects, showing up for everyone else — and suddenly it was gone. But life has a funny way of working things out exactly when it’s supposed to.

I love going to Goodwill stores. I always seem to find the best deals on the cutest things. My husband swears I end up rebuying things I’ve already donated, but he’s wrong—I promise.  A while back, I found an adorable jumper. I don’t think I’ve ever worn a jumper in my life, but somehow, I felt confident I could pull this one off. When I got it home, it felt a little snug, so I hung it up for a while. But one day, I decided to try it on again. This time, it felt a little looser. I didn’t linger in the mirror—I just headed off to work.  I stopped at a gas station to grab a drink, and the attendant surprised me with a sweet compliment:  “That outfit is so cute.”  I smiled and said, “Thank you so much.”  When I got to work, another compliment came my way:  “You look really cute today.”  I smiled again, proud of my modest find from Goodwill.  All these compliments made me feel good—until I took a picture of the outfit.  And suddenly, I felt sad.  In that photo, I didn’t see the confidence I felt earlier. I saw someone who still struggles with her weight. Someone who doesn’t always feel at home in her body. Someone tired of battling autoimmune issues and the relentless effort it takes to feel “normal.”

As we get closer to the end of the year, I could suggest you start thinking about your resolutions—but let’s be honest. How many of us have made a million resolutions over the years, only to quit them before day three?  So, let me offer you a different approach for 2026.  What if you lived the entire year through the lens of just one word?  It’s a concept I’ve been practicing for years, based on the book My One Word by Mike Ashcroft and Rachel Olsen. The process is simple, but the impact is powerful:  Find one word. Then watch it transform your year.

A few days before my colonoscopy, I got a phone call.  It has taken me years to stop denying the need for the procedure, and when I finally scheduled it, the days that followed were full of angst. Between the surgery center, the doctor’s office, and anesthesia, it felt like I was getting two phone calls a day—each one asking the same questions. I felt like a walking checklist.  But then, the last call came. A quiet, timid voice greeted me on the other end of the line. She introduced herself as someone from billing, calling to go over the charges for my upcoming procedure.  She hesitated for a moment before saying, “So… your insurance deductible is quite high.”  There was a pause, heavy with anxiety.  I responded, “I know the procedure is expensive, and I have the means to pay what I need to today.”  She exhaled. I could almost feel the relief wash over the phone line.  “Oh thank you so much,” she said. “I just didn’t know how I was going to tell you how much you owed. I could only imagine how upset you were going to be with me. Thank you for making this conversation so easy.”

When my son left for college, he left behind a beautiful desk he built tucked into the corner of his room. And what does any good mom do? She takes it over and makes it her very own charging station.  Because honestly, I don’t know about you, but there never seems to be enough power strips and charging cords for all the gadgets that need to be recharged. And that got me thinking… what do we do when our battery hits the red zone—below that 10% mark?

—Taylor Swift

Few things are as simple—and as profound—as wildflowers. I don’t water them, I don’t tend to them, and honestly, I didn’t even plant them this year. Yet, there they are, pushing up through the earth, bringing unexpected joy to anyone who stops to notice them. They bloom where they are planted.  That phrase—“bloom where you are planted”—is scattered throughout my office. But I’ll be honest: there were seasons when I truly questioned whether I could bloom in the chaos around me. Still, somehow, I did.

Last week, I was challenged with something unexpectedly fun: Puzzle Mania.   Most of my blog themes revolve around self-care, and this one is no different.

Not too long ago, I had the opportunity to visit the Sight & Sound Theatre in Branson. I’ve seen a few of their productions over the years, and while Esther will likely always be my favorite, this year’s presentation of David was something special.  What made it even more meaningful was the season I found myself in—attending a church that was walking through the book of 1 Samuel. We were studying David’s story just as I was about to see it brought to life on stage. That kind of alignment is no coincidence; God has a way of weaving truth through different parts of our lives.  

“I always did like flowers, said the Lion. They seem so helpless and frail.”  —L. Frank Baum

You know what I need to do? Drink more water.  You know what I want to do? Drink more Diet Dr. Pepper.

“‘Cause even when your heart is breakin' and you've gone and lost your way.  You're, you're gonna be okay.”

Women need other women in their lives who think they are amazing.  No competition, no jealousy, no hate,

John 1:3 NKJV

“Putting first things first means organizing and executing around your most important priorities.  It is living and being driven by the principles you value most, not by the agendas and forces surrounding you.”  —Stephen Covey

You are stepping into a new stage of life—sending your kids off to college, the military, or another type of leaving the nest.  I’ve done it—twice to college, once to basic training, and once on a deployment across the globe. And let me tell you… motherhood is hard.

Journaling is my number one counseling tool. It’s something anyone can do—children, teens, and adults alike. The key is finding the right approach, and unlike years ago, there are now so many more options available.  I often remind people that journaling feels hard because our thinking around it is skewed. Most of us associate it with the kind of diary we kept as kids—where we either wrote about the worst things that ever happened (“I had to do push-ups at lunch because the gym teacher said I was talking too loud”) or the very best (“I got a note folded into a triangle from my secret admirer!”). Yes, I know I’m showing my age there.