what does it feel like to grow older?

Someone once asked me:

“What does it feel like to grow older?”

I wasn’t offended.

It just caught me off guard.

Because I don’t wake up every morning thinking, “I’m old.”

I wake up, stretch, make my tea or coffee — and start another day.

But later, when I sat with that question by myself, I realized something:

Growing older isn’t something I’m afraid of.

It’s something I’m starting to truly appreciate.

🌿 I don’t rush through life anymore.

🌿 I don’t try to keep up with everything — or everyone.

🌿 Some days I get everything done.

🌿 Some days I do nothing — and the world keeps spinning just fine.

I’ve learned not to fix things that don’t really matter.

I’ve learned that silence can be the strongest answer.

That peace is more important than being right.

And that not everyone has to understand me — and that’s okay.

Yes, along the way, I’ve lost things…

People. Moments. Parts of who I used to be.

And yes, sometimes it still hurts.

But I carry more love inside me now than I ever did.

More patience. More gentleness.

And a clearer sense of what actually matters.

I don’t pretend everything is fine when it isn’t.

I explain myself less.

And I don’t waste time worrying about what other people think of me.

🕊 If I feel like staring at the sky for an hour — I do.

If I need to cry over an old memory — I let myself.

If something makes me laugh — I laugh until I can’t breathe.

Because I know now:

Time doesn’t slow down.

And happiness doesn’t ask for permission.

So if you asked me again,

“What is it like to be older?”

I would say:

It’s freedom.

Freedom from things I once held onto too tightly.

Freedom to be myself — without rushing, without masks, without pretending.

I don’t know how much time I have left.

None of us do.

But I know this:

I won’t spend what’s left chasing perfection.

I just want to live —

calmly, honestly, and on my own terms.

And if that’s what getting older means —

I accept it with gratitude.

pray more, worry less

I’ve learned that worry grows loudest when prayer grows quiet. When my mind spirals with what ifs and worst-case scenarios, it’s usually a sign I’ve been carrying things I was never meant to hold alone.

Pray more. Worry less.

It sounds simple, but it’s deeply transformative. Every time I choose prayer over panic, I’m reminded that God is already aware, already present, already at work. Prayer doesn’t always change my circumstances right away, but it always changes me. It shifts my focus from fear to faith, from control to trust. Worry drains my peace; prayer restores it. I’m learning that the more I talk to God, the less power anxiety has over my heart.

Prayer:

Lord, help me turn to You first instead of worrying. When anxious thoughts rise, remind me to pray and trust You with every concern. Fill my heart with peace that surpasses understanding and teach me to rest in Your care today. Amen.

Surround Yourself with Women

"Surround yourself with strong women, women more beautiful than you, smarter than you, and don't envy them, admire them.

Surround yourself with good women who know how to listen, who know how to care, from whom you learn to relate to the world, women who teach you their power.

Surround yourself with women to weave an invisible web, a web for other women, so you don't let them fall, so they feel the collective hug, so they don't feel alone or crazy.

Surround yourself with women who embrace their shadow, who don't apologize for being light, who are aware of their beauty and that they are alive.

Surround yourself with irreverent and brave women, women fighters who open the way and tear down walls, women of reference, women who do not ask for permission, who build their homes with the same hands, with which they cradle and caress.

Surround yourself with women who help you live as you are, who give you confidence and affection, who remind you that they are all one."

Source: Roy Galán

Growing old isn't easy

Growing old isn’t easy.

We lose strength.

We forget things.

And with each passing day, we step a little closer to the end of this life.

But I am not afraid.

Because when this life ends, another begins.

A life where my body is restored.

Where my mind is clear.

Where every ache, every loss, every limitation is gone.

And most of all,

I will meet Jesus face to face.

That is my hope.

That is my peace.

Jesus, it's just me tonight

Jesus, it’s just me tonight.♥♥🕯

No carefully chosen words,

no strong-sounding faith,

only a heart that knows

You already understand.

I’m tired in ways sleep doesn’t fix.

Carrying things I thought I’d outgrow.

Learning that some worries linger

longer than expected.

There are days I feel steady,

and days I feel easily shaken.

But I’m discovering that faith

isn’t about feeling brave,

it’s about turning toward You

even when my hands tremble.

I’ve asked You for direction

and felt You give peace instead.

I’ve prayed for answers

and found You staying near

while questions remained.

I don’t always understand the timing,

the slow healing,

the prayers that seem unfinished.

But I’m still here.

Still choosing trust.

Still believing You are closer

than my doubts allow me to feel.

Thank You for not pulling away

when I struggled.

For holding me steady

when I appeared strong but wasn’t.

For hearing the prayers

I couldn’t put into words.

I’m learning that trusting You

doesn’t mean fear disappears,

it means I don’t carry it alone.

So here I am again.

Open hands.

A willing heart.

Asking You to guide me,

even when the path is quiet.

I don’t know everything.

But I know You do.

And for now,

that’s enough

to let my soul breathe.

Waiting with hope

Tonight, we do not rush.

We sit in the hush between what has been promised and what is about to be revealed.

The lights are low. The noise has faded. T
he world feels like it’s holding its breath.

This waiting is not empty.

It is full of hope.

Long before us, others waited too,

with tired feet, with watchful eyes, with faith that God would keep His word.

They didn’t know the hour, only the promise.

So tonight, we rest in that same trust.

We let our hearts slow down.

We release the need to hurry tomorrow.

Because God works just as powerfully in the waiting

as He does in the miracle itself.

And when morning comes,

it will find us ready,

not because we rushed,

but because we waited with hope.

Amen.

I want to be the hero of my own story

Sometimes, Lord, I admit: my heart gets heavy with what’s right in front of me. I want strength for the next ten steps, not just today. But You remind me: my portion for today is enough. If I bring You all my impatience, my doubts, my insufficient faith, will You meet me here? Let tomorrow be Yours. Today, just give me enough hope to keep my heart steady and enough strength to trust You in what I can’t see.

I confess, I often want to be the hero in my own story. But You’re the Author: you write hope into my unknown chapters. Breathe peace when anxiety tries to take over. Thank You for walking beside me in the mess and the miracle, in my questions and my quiet trust. I may not see what’s ahead, but I know Who holds it.

"Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." (Matthew 6:34)

That's what moms do

Have you ever stopped to think about how your mom feels?

It’s hard to picture it, but moms carry the biggest share of the weight at home — the worries, the planning, the mental load — and somehow still find the strength to keep going every single day.

So when a mom says, “I can’t do this anymore,” don’t judge her and don’t assume she’s just complaining.

There’s a kind of pain she holds inside, because she doesn’t have the luxury of falling apart.

She has to solve problems, smooth things over, and stay steady for everyone else… while everyone forgets she also needs someone to lean on.

Moms get tired too.

They cry at night when the house is quiet.

They have days when they feel drained and overwhelmed — yet nobody asks:

“Mom, how are you today?”

She’s the mom, the therapist, the nurse, the cook, the house manager, the driver, the babysitter, the scheduler, and a thousand other roles wrapped into one person.

But the most important one?

She is — and always has been — your safe place.

When life gets heavy, she’s the one who says, “It’s going to be okay.”

When money is tight, she finds a way even if it means cutting back on herself.

When your world feels like it’s falling apart, she holds it together until you can stand again.

And even when she looks distant, quiet, or worn out — don’t believe the surface.

She’s just carrying more than she can say out loud, and she’ll still tell you:

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

Even when she’s hurting for everyone at once.