Have you ever feared failure?

Have you ever looked in the mirror and wondered what in the world you’re here for or who you really are?

It’s super easy for me to slip into seasons of self-reflection that quickly lead to doubt and anxiety.

I don’t like this about myself, but I’d be lying if I said anything different.

I made a huge decision this spring, and I haven’t written about it or even talked about it much at all.

I made a decision that I’ve been wrestling with for years.

I resigned from my full-time job.

That’s right.

I gave up a decent salary along with full benefits and a retirement package in exchange for one last chance to pursue some dreams.

I’ll be 50 in just a few weeks.

Half a century.

Five decades.

I’ve worn a lot of hats through the years.

From stay-at-home mom to secretary to teacher to instructional coach.

Sometimes when I look at the whole list, I wonder if this is what failure looks like.

Bouncing around from one job to the next.

Never feeling like I’ve quite arrived.

I have to remind myself that each season of life has taught me something new.

I’ve learned lessons about patience, love, courage, strength, perseverance, selflessness.

In the midst of these varied undertakings, I’ve also been walking through some very dark seasons of grief and depression.

Because of this, I’ve gone to work on good days and bad days.

I’ve pushed through a lot of pain.

And along the way, I’ve met many other men and women who are walking similar roads.

I’ve come to realize that every single day there are people taking showers and heading to work who are broken, lonely, stressed, sad, confused, and afraid of failing.

I’ve seen in the eyes of others what I’ve seen in my own eyes time and time again.


This spring I knew it was time.

God has been calling me to a different life ever since Nick died, and I’ve tried to run the other direction for way too long.

I believe He wants me to step out of my own story so I have time to write about how I’ve kept turning the pages even when the last page seemed like more than I could ever bear.


It’s time for me to embrace just being me.

A grieving mom walking with joy in a broken world.

A writer who fears failing at the very thing I love.

Today, I’m feeling a little anxious about this next chapter in my life.

I can tell it’s going to stretch me like I never thought it would.


I just needed to say this out loud:

I’m afraid of failure, but I don’t even know what failure looks like.

Does this even make sense?