In June, I turned 40. My 20s can be summed up in three simple words: mistakes were made. My 30s can also be summed up in three words, but far sweeter ones: love found me.
The strange thing about living a life where you’ve known real love is that you can never unknow it. I know, without hesitation, that I was deeply loved by my husband. But that wasn’t where I discovered unconditional love in its purest form. I found that kind of love in the heart of my daughter.
My 8-year-old daughter is a truly special kid.
Before she was born, I had lived 31 years thinking I understood life. But becoming her mom taught me more than all those years combined. Before her, I loved selfishly, measuring situations by how they made me feel. After her, I learned how to love with my whole being. I learned that love is sacrificial. Loving is easy when life goes exactly as planned; it’s far harder when everything unravels. Her dad understood that deeply, likely because he was facing the reality of death himself.
Perspective changes everything.
She has also taught me that forgiveness isn’t optional or convenient—it’s essential, especially in a life rooted in faith. She never gives up on people, and because of her, neither do I. She loves like Jesus loves. She still believes the world is good, even after losing her dad far too young. Her laugh is contagious, her smile fills her entire face, and if she loves you, you are unimaginably lucky.
As she grows, I hope I can teach her even a fraction of what she’s already taught me.
I hope she always dances like no one is watching. I hope she understands that being bold in a world that demands conformity is not a flaw—it’s a gift. I hope she continues to find joy in small things, like an overfilled bubble bath, and in big moments, like driving two hours just to see something beautiful that won’t last long. Time is fleeting, and waiting too long to chase wonder often means missing it entirely.
I hope she always turns her face toward the sun—and the Son—no matter what life throws at her, trusting that light will never lead her astray. I hope she learns to look for goodness, even in difficult seasons.
I hope she never takes life too seriously. I hope she always finds laughter, because it’s always there if you’re willing to look for it.
May her life be filled with friendships money can’t buy—friends she laughs with until she cries, dances loudly with, and shows up for without hesitation. I hope she understands that quality will always matter more than quantity when it comes to people.
When life feels heavy, I hope she remembers the days I rested and then kept going. I hope she remembers seeing me cry, take a nap, and then get back up and order pizza because cooking dinner just wasn’t happening that day. Women are taught that empowerment means exhaustion, but there is no prize for burning yourself out. Rest is necessary. Slowing down is powerful.
Maybe one day, when she’s grown, she’ll value memories and experiences over money and possessions—because that’s how I tried to raise her.
I hope she always knows how beautiful she is. I hope she understands that in a world that teaches women to hate their bodies, there is power in wearing a bikini simply because it sparkles and makes you happy—even without six-pack abs.
Eat the food. Drink the beer. None of us are getting out of this alive. I’d rather leave this world fluffy and happy than skinny and miserable.
Always spend holidays with people you love. Watching fireworks with people I love is one of my favorite things, and I’ve been lucky enough to do that several times this summer already.
Maybe she’ll stay out too late on a school night someday, too happy to end the night on schedule. Sometimes throwing caution—and routines—to the wind is exactly where the magic lives.
She walks into every room like she belongs there. I do, too. Head up. Shoulders back. Confidence looks good on everyone. The world will try to convince her she isn’t enough. It’s my job to make sure she always knows she is more than enough for this broken world.
If she carries the importance of making memories with her, she will always feel fulfilled. I hope she climbs mountains just to see the view from the top. I hope she’s never too rushed to pull over and admire something breathtaking. I hope she learns to find beauty in every sunset.
Most of all, I hope she knows that loving with your whole heart may invite pain, but love will always win in the end.
I hope the hardships of the world never dull her sparkle. I’ve walked through pain myself, and I still shine when the light hits just right. And oh—how she shines, too.
Raising Quinn without her dad was never the plan. But focusing on what truly matters has allowed us to thrive, even in circumstances shaped by heartbreak beyond our control.
I don’t know what 40 has waiting for me. I do know that life with her is never dull, and we will keep teaching each other how to navigate loss and love. As long as I have her by my side while we figure it out together, I know I’ll always be okay.
That’s all I know so far.
