Epiphany: Rooted in Purpose, Rising in Peace

Is the work I’m doing beneficial? Absolutely. I’m innovating education with hands-on applications that change outcomes for marginalized students. But here’s the truth: the work won’t matter if I don’t create order in my own life.

The farm is my starting point. Once it makes sense, the school gardens will click. Once the gardens flow, the bigger system aligns. I see it clearly now:

• Fall is for field trips and young learners.

• Winter is for volunteers, service, and building soil.

• Spring is for middle schoolers, high schoolers, Ag in the Classroom workshops, and a full-circle experience — STEM → Agriculture → Nutrition → Culinary.

This isn’t just theory anymore. It’s my five-year action plan. It’s my research. It’s my dissertation. And it’s real.

But purpose has a weight. And I’ve been carrying it while raising two kids. Some days, it nearly broke me. I sat on bathroom floors, empty, wondering if my children would be better off without me. Yet, they saved me. Again and again.

So no, I don’t feel guilty about choosing me now. My children will see a mama who dreams, who builds, who loves without guilt or perfection. They will see peace in our home, not just survival.

That’s why The Horseshoe Farm in North Carolina became more than work — it was an awakening. I woke up early to walk quietly, sit in the sauna, and be still. And in that silence, God spoke. He reminded me: healing isn’t optional. Alignment isn’t optional. Rest isn’t optional.

I realized the garden-based and farm-based learning matter, yes — but so does walking through a park, riding a horse, breathing deeply, being outside, and simply being present. My kids remind me of the horses I’ve loved and lost: Paisley is my Sweet Pea — strong-willed and full of fight. Parker is my BJ — playful and gentle. And Buckwheat? He’s all of us — steady, needing love and balance to thrive.

I’m embracing every delay, every obstacle, every pivot as part of the transformation. The war isn’t over, but I am winning battles. I’m in a clearer, happier place because I’ve stopped rushing and started trusting.

This is not a setback. This is realignment. This is restoration. This is me—rooted in purpose and rising in peace.

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✨ Smart & Sassy Note to Readers: Sis, the farm isn’t the only thing that needs seasons — you do too. Sometimes spring looks like rest. Sometimes winter looks like a glow-up. Either way, alignment is your birthright.

So here’s the sass: stop waiting for permission to pause, pivot, or plant again. That permission slip already has your name on it.

👉 Tell me in the comments: what’s one way you’re choosing to realign this season? And subscribe for weekly Smart & Sassy nudges to keep you rooted and rising.