25 Years of Love: Our Silver Anniversary Story

 

Looking back on the past 25 years, it’s hard not to be overwhelmed with emotion. What a long way we have come. From the uncertain early days of young love to the solid, enduring bond we now share, our story has been nothing short of a fairy tale—complete with magical beginnings, trials and triumphs, and most importantly, a love that has stood the test of time.

Ours isn’t the kind of story you often hear, but it’s the one that shaped our lives forever. We met online, in a time when that wasn’t quite the norm. There were no dating apps or swipe-rights—just simple messages exchanged between two curious hearts, oceans apart. I was only 18 then, just a girl really, but something about Ed’s presence—even from behind a screen—felt safe, genuine, and exciting.

When you’re young and in love, logic tends to take a backseat, and I’m so grateful it did. Because I made a decision that would change my life—I traveled thousands of miles to meet him. My heart still remembers the nervous excitement of that first flight, the anticipation, the uncertainty, and the hope. And when I saw him waiting for me, everything just clicked. It was as if the universe had been guiding me to this moment all along.

It didn’t take long for Ed to know what he wanted. On that very visit to the USA, he proposed. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was real, honest, and beautiful. I said yes without hesitation. From that moment on, we chose each other. We chose to build a life together, even though we had no idea how tough the road ahead would be.

We started with so little. We were young, in love, and broke. We lived paycheck to paycheck, stretching every dollar and doing what we could to survive. I remember our pasta and chicken days so clearly—not because of how hard they were, but because they showed me what love and partnership really mean. We made those cheap meals into feasts, not because of the food, but because we had each other. We shared dreams and hopes over simple dinners, and somehow, it was always enough.

There were moments when things felt overwhelming—bills piling up, responsibilities growing, and no guarantee of how we’d get through the week. But we always managed to find a way. We didn’t have riches in the beginning, but we were rich in love, resilience, and a commitment that never wavered. And slowly, with grit and grace, things began to change. We worked hard, supported one another, and little by little, we built a life. We climbed from rags to a version of riches—not just in material terms, but in the richness of experience, growth, and joy.

In time, our love story expanded with the arrival of our children—two of the greatest gifts we’ve ever received. Watching them grow has been the most beautiful journey within our journey. From their first steps to their first words, school days to teenage years, and now, watching them evolve into incredible young adults—it has been a privilege. They are kind, thoughtful, intelligent, and so full of promise. I see pieces of both of us in them, and I also see the unique individuals they are becoming. Knowing we’ve raised them with love, stability, and intention is one of our proudest accomplishments.

Through the years, our love has evolved too. It’s grown deeper, wiser, and more comfortable—like a well-worn sweater that fits just right. We’ve faced ups and downs—some days filled with laughter, others with tears. But never once did we stop choosing each other. That, I think, is the secret. We never walked away. We never gave up. We made the decision every day to stand by each other, even when it was hard.

For our 25th anniversary, we always imagined a grand celebration—something lavish and memorable. After all, not many couples make it to 25 years with the kind of story we have. We pictured a big party, surrounded by family and friends, music, dancing, the works. But as the date drew closer, we found ourselves leaning toward something quieter, something more intimate and meaningful.

In the end, we celebrated just the two of us. And honestly, it was perfect. We went on a romantic sunset dinner in a cable car, suspended in the sky with breathtaking views below us and the golden sun melting into the horizon. There we were, toasting with champagne, reminiscing, laughing, and simply soaking in the moment. It was elegant, peaceful, and filled with the kind of magic that only comes from truly shared memories. That evening was a beautiful reminder of who we are—a team, a love story that doesn’t need an audience to shine.

Sitting in that cable car, with the world stretching out beneath us, I thought about everything we’ve been through. The late-night talks, the tears, the tight hugs during hard times, the belly laughs, the parenting wins and fails, the shared dreams and quiet mornings over coffee. I thought about how far we’ve come—not just in distance, but in growth. The girl who flew halfway across the world at 18 could never have imagined this life, but she would be proud. So proud.

There’s something extraordinary about making it to 25 years. It’s not just a number—it’s a reflection of every choice, every effort, every moment of grace. It’s about surviving the hard seasons, celebrating the good ones, and holding each other through it all. And we did that. We are still doing that.

To Ed—thank you for loving me all these years. Thank you for being patient when I was not, for being strong when I felt weak, and for never letting go of my hand, even when the road got rough. You’ve been my best friend, my greatest supporter, my partner in everything. I am who I am because I had you beside me, believing in me, building a life with me.

As we step into this new chapter beyond 25, I carry with me all the memories we’ve created, and all the love we’ve nurtured. I also carry excitement—because I know our story isn’t over. There’s still so much more to see, do, learn, and enjoy together. We’ll travel more, dream bigger, and continue growing—both individually and as a couple.

Marriage isn’t perfect. It’s not always easy. But when it’s rooted in real love, trust, friendship, and mutual respect—it’s the most powerful bond there is. And that’s what we have. A connection that was forged not just by fate, but by every choice we made to stay, to love, to grow.

Twenty-five years ago, we began a journey not knowing where it would take us. Today, I can confidently say it has taken us to the most beautiful places—both literally and figuratively. And I wouldn’t change a thing.

Here’s to our 25 years—silver on the calendar, but golden in memories. And here’s to many more. Because no matter how many years pass, you will always be my person, my home, my heart.

The Death of Pope Francis: A Personal Journey Through Grief, Gratitude, and Hope

 

The death of Pope Francis has stirred a profound grief in my soul—a sorrow I struggle to articulate in words but feel deeply in every part of my being. As I reflect on his life, his legacy, and the light he brought to our often troubled world, I find myself overwhelmed by both the sadness of his passing and the immense gratitude for the life he lived so humbly and generously. 

For many around the globe, Pope Francis was more than a religious figurehead—he was a symbol of compassion, humility, and courage. But for me, he was something even deeper: a spiritual shepherd who seemed to understand the pain and beauty of the human condition, who reached out to the lost, the poor, and the broken with open arms, and who led not with power or prestige but with an open heart.

I can still vividly remember the moment I heard the news of his passing. My heart sank. I felt a chill, a sense of disbelief and loss. Pope Francis had always felt like a comforting presence in the world—a voice of calm in chaos, a bridge in moments of division, and a gentle reminder that above all else, love wins. The idea that such a light could be extinguished from our earthly world left me in tears. I was saddened beyond measure, and it felt like losing a beloved grandfather, mentor, and spiritual guide all at once.

One of the things I will miss the most is his humility. In a world that often rewards ego and ambition, Pope Francis stood as a testament to the power of humility. From the moment he stepped onto the balcony at the Vatican and bowed to the people for their blessing before giving his own, I knew he was different. He refused the opulent papal apartments and chose to live in a modest guesthouse. He rode in a simple Ford Focus instead of the traditional papal limousine. His actions, small as they may seem to some, spoke volumes. They weren’t just gestures—they were reflections of his soul.

But beyond his humble lifestyle was a heart so full of kindness and love that it moved millions. He embraced the marginalized with tenderness, washed the feet of prisoners and refugees, opened the doors of the Church to those who had long felt excluded, and continually preached about mercy over judgment. I remember how he once said, “Who am I to judge?” in response to questions about the LGBTQ+ community. That moment alone showed me a leader willing to shatter norms in favor of love and inclusivity. That was Pope Francis—always choosing love.

His kindness wasn’t just words—it was action. He stood up for the poor, the forgotten, and the voiceless. He called out greed and environmental destruction, challenged global leaders to think beyond politics and power, and reminded us all that the true Church is one that serves. His heart beat for humanity in all its forms, and his love transcended barriers—of language, nationality, and even faith.

I feel deeply blessed that I had the opportunity to attend the Papal Mass celebrated by Pope Francis in Singapore last September. That experience, in hindsight, feels even more precious now. To be in his presence, to hear his voice echo through the crowd, and to see his gentle smile with my own eyes—it was surreal. There was a stillness in the air that day, a kind of spiritual calm that enveloped everyone present. His words were simple yet powerful, his gaze was kind, and his blessing felt like a direct touch from Heaven. I remember closing my eyes during the final blessing, tears rolling down my cheeks, as I whispered a silent prayer of thanks for being able to witness such grace.

That day is now a cherished memory—one I will hold close for the rest of my life. At the time, I did not realize it would be the last time I would ever see him in person. But now, knowing that, I treasure it even more. That Mass was not just a religious event; it was a sacred encounter with a man whose life was a living Gospel.

As I mourn, I also pray with all my heart that the next Pope will carry on the incredible legacy left behind by Pope Francis. I hope and pray that whoever steps into the role next will do so with the same humility, gentleness, and wisdom. The world needs a spiritual leader who listens, who heals, and who dares to love radically as Pope Francis did. His shoes are large to fill—not just in size, but in spirit. But I have hope that God will raise another servant-leader, one molded in the image of Christ, much like Francis was.

Pope Francis was not perfect, nor did he claim to be. But in his imperfections, he reminded us of our own humanity. He apologized when necessary, admitted faults, and welcomed criticism with grace. He knew he was just a man, but one chosen to do the work of the divine. And he did that work with quiet strength and enduring love.

I find comfort in believing that he is now with the Lord he served so faithfully. I imagine him reunited with saints and angels, continuing to pray for us as we journey on without him. My heart finds peace in the thought that Heaven has welcomed him with open arms: “Well done, good and faithful servant.” I am sure those words were spoken to him the moment he entered into eternity.

His death has left me more aware of the fragility of life, and also more convicted in my faith. Pope Francis once said, “Let us not allow ourselves to be robbed of hope.” And so, in his honor, I will choose hope over despair, light over darkness, and love over fear. I will try to live more humbly, more compassionately, more like he did.

Though the world mourns, I find that mourning deeply personal. He wasn’t just the Pope—he was *my* Pope. The one who taught me that faith can be kind, that leadership can be gentle, and that love can be revolutionary. I will miss him immensely. I will miss his warm smile, his thoughtful homilies, his compassionate gaze, and the way he always reminded us to pray for him—his humility so profound that he, the Pope, would ask the people for prayer.

Now, I find myself doing just that—praying for him. Praying that his soul is at peace, that his legacy continues to ripple through the Church and the world, and that his example lives on in each of us who were touched by his life.

In many ways, the best way we can honor him is not just with words, but with action. To be kind. To forgive. To serve. To include. To care. To speak up for the voiceless. To stand with the poor. To love without judgment. These were the values he championed, and they must now become the torch we carry forward.

Pope Francis may be gone from this earth, but his spirit lives on. In our churches. In our hearts. In every act of kindness we offer. And every time we choose humility over pride, service over self, and compassion over convenience, we keep his memory alive.

As I sit with my grief, I also sit with immense gratitude. I am grateful for the years we had him. I am grateful for his courage and clarity, his compassion and conviction. And I am especially grateful that, by divine grace, I was able to witness his holy presence at the Papal Mass in Singapore. That moment will forever be etched in the pages of my life story.

In this time of mourning, I hold fast to the words he himself gave us: “You have to dare to dream. Don’t be afraid to dream of a more just world, to ask for change.” Pope Francis dreamed such a world into being with every act of love. Now, it is up to us to keep dreaming, keep building, and keep loving—just as he did.

May his soul rest in peace, and may the love he shared continue to shine through us all.

My First Mission Trip to Vietnam – A Journey of Heart, Faith, and Transformation

 

This will be my very first mission trip to Vietnam—and it carries with it more than just excitement. It’s a long-held dream finally coming to life, one that has lived quietly in my heart for years. When my children were younger, I knew I couldn’t just leave them and go. My responsibilities at home were always my top priority. Their needs, their presence, their laughter and chaos—those were the center of my world. But now that they’re older, more independent, and walking their own journeys, I finally feel the nudge from within: it’s time.

Still, I’ll admit—this will be the longest I’ve ever been away from my family, and that’s not something I take lightly. I will miss them deeply. I’ll miss the rhythm of our home, the inside jokes, the everyday moments that seem ordinary but are really the threads that weave our lives together. Stepping away, even temporarily, stirs a quiet ache in my heart. Yet at the same time, it strengthens my resolve. Because I know I’m not just going away—I’m going towards something that matters.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve carried a desire to serve in a different country—to go beyond my comfort zone and extend help to those who have so little. Particularly children. There’s something about the innocence of children, their vulnerability and potential, that tugs at my spirit. I’ve always felt called to do something meaningful for them, to offer love and support where the world may have overlooked or forgotten them. This mission trip is the answer to that call.

But as I prepare, I’ve had to ask myself honestly: What can I really offer on this mission trip? I’m not arriving with all the answers or grand solutions—but I am bringing something just as important: a willing heart, open hands, and the desire to serve with love. And maybe that’s all I need to bring.

We often assume that mission work requires extraordinary talent or resources. But I’ve come to understand that the most powerful offerings are often the simplest ones: presence, compassion, and humility. A kind word, a listening ear, or simply showing up with genuine care—these small acts can become vessels for God’s grace. That’s what I hope to give: my time, my attention, my prayers. I don’t just want to give—I want to learn. To listen. To be changed. Because mission work is not a one-way act of charity—it’s a sacred exchange. We offer what we can, and in return, we are offered transformation.

In truth, while I go with a heart ready to serve, I am aware that I will also receive—perhaps even more than I give. I may receive new perspective, as I step into a different way of life and see how joy, faith, and love thrive even in places where material things are scarce. It’s easy to get caught up in our own world and forget that abundance is not always visible. Sometimes, it’s found in the strength of a mother who sings to her child despite hunger, or in the laughter of children who have so little yet radiate so much light.

I may receive wisdom from the very people I hope to help. Their stories of endurance, of grace under hardship, will no doubt humble me. And I may also receive healing—because in stepping away from my routine, I’m making space for God to whisper, to restore, to move in my heart in ways I may not expect. And perhaps most beautifully, I will encounter Christ in others—in their hospitality, their hope, their struggles and triumphs. These sacred encounters are what make a mission trip not just something we do, but something that changes us from the inside out.

As I go, I am also more aware than ever of the posture I want to carry—not one of pity, but of mercy. This difference matters deeply. Pity, while well-intentioned, can come from a place of distance. It can feel passive—feeling sorry for someone without truly seeing them. Mercy, on the other hand, is active. It gets close. It walks alongside. It costs us something—our time, our comfort, our assumptions. Mercy is rooted in love and humility, and it sees the other not as less, but as equal, worthy, human. I don’t want to serve from a place of feeling sorry—I want to serve with a heart willing to be moved, to be inconvenienced, to kneel down and love as Christ would.

In reflecting on this upcoming journey, I’ve also been thinking about the ways I’ve already encountered Christ’s love in my own life. There have been seasons where I was broken, when grief and pain clouded everything—and yet, even then, love found me. I remember one particular time when a friend simply sat with me in silence. No fixing, no advice—just presence. They held space for me, prayed with me, and reminded me that I was not alone. That was Christ, showing up in human form. That was Christian love in its most powerful expression.

And so, I carry that memory with me as I go. I want to be that kind of presence for someone else. I want to be the person who doesn’t just show up to help, but who sees, listens, and loves. Who respects and learns, who receives and gives in equal measure. Because that’s what mission is. It’s not just about doing good—it’s about becoming good, becoming more like Christ in the way we relate to one another.

I don’t expect this mission trip to be easy. I know I will be challenged, perhaps even shaken. I know I will cry, and I know I will laugh. I know I will miss my family and long for home. But I also know that I will return changed. With a fuller heart, a broader vision, and a deeper sense of God’s presence in the world.

This is my first mission trip to Vietnam, but it’s not just a trip—it’s the beginning of something more. A new chapter of faith in action. A dream long delayed, finally fulfilled. A gift I’m both giving and receiving.

And I pray that in all of it—in the going, the serving, the missing, the loving—I may carry the heart of Christ wherever I step. That in every smile, every story, every shared meal or prayer, God’s love will be made known. That’s all I could ever hope for. And that’s enough.

From Spa Bliss to Sales Blitz: My Weight Management Trial Wake-Up Call

 

Curiosity led me through the doors of a Weight Management company not too long ago. Like many others trying to make wellness a priority, I was open to exploring treatments that could support my health goals in a gentle, non-invasive way. I had heard about their XX treatment—a relaxing session supposedly designed to reduce bloating and target stubborn fat areas without needles, surgery, or sweat. On paper, it sounded like the perfect complement to a relatively healthy lifestyle. But by the end of the session, what began as a calming experience turned into something else entirely: an aggressive sales pitch with a jaw-dropping price tag.

When I first arrived, everything looked and felt reassuringly professional. The center had a spa-like atmosphere—clean, calm, and softly lit with that signature air of quiet luxury. My consultant greeted me with a warm smile and led me into a private consultation room where we discussed my lifestyle, eating habits, exercise routine, and body goals. I appreciated the attention to detail and the personalized approach. It didn’t feel rushed, and I felt heard.

The treatment itself was just as pleasant. It started with a full body composition analysis using high-tech equipment that scanned my fat distribution, hydration levels, and metabolic age. From there, I was guided through the session, which began with a thermal heat therapy designed to boost circulation and promote fat burn. The warmth was intense but soothing—like being cocooned in a heated blanket. After that, the detox wrap was applied, tightening gently around targeted areas while I lay down to relax. I could feel the tension in my body release, and by the end of the session, I genuinely felt lighter, less bloated, and surprisingly refreshed. The therapist was kind, communicative, and professional throughout, explaining what each step was supposed to do.

And then... everything changed.

As soon as I stepped out of the treatment room, barely back in my clothes, I was whisked into a different space to “review my progress.” But instead of a post-treatment reflection, I was hit with a hard-sell package that knocked the air out of me. The recommendation? Seventy sessions—yes, seventy. They suggested thirty sessions for my waist, twenty for my arms, and twenty more for my thighs. At $700 per session, this totaled $49,000.

Let that sink in for a second.

I’m not overweight. I didn’t come in with drastic body concerns or expectations of dramatic transformation. I simply wanted a gentle nudge in the right direction—perhaps a one-off indulgence or the occasional treat to go alongside my efforts to eat clean, move more, and take care of my body. But instead of support, I was handed a glossy brochure listing a price that could fund a luxury holiday, a new car, or a year of elite personal training, clean eating programs, and spa sessions combined.

There was no time offered to reflect or wait to see how my body responded over the next few days. It was all about signing up immediately, locking in the package before I could back out. The pressure didn’t ease. The tone shifted from friendly to transactional, and it became clear that the treatment was just the bait for a very costly hook.

The experience left a bitter taste in my mouth—not because the session itself was bad, but because I felt reduced to a dollar sign. The nurturing, wellness-focused atmosphere had turned into a high-stakes sales floor.

What’s even more frustrating is how these places often hide behind glossy marketing and celebrity endorsements. You’ll see familiar faces—usually actresses or models with flawless skin and flat stomachs—beaming in promotional posters, telling you how great the treatments are. But let’s be honest: many of these ambassadors have never been overweight a day in their life. They’re not the ones struggling with hormonal changes, emotional eating, post-baby weight, or the impact of sedentary work life. They don’t represent the average person walking in looking for genuine support. Instead, they represent a beauty ideal that feels out of reach for most of us.

And when that ideal is being used to sell expensive packages to people who may be feeling vulnerable about their bodies? That’s where it starts to feel manipulative. Because if someone like that “needs” seventy sessions, what hope does that leave for the rest of us?

But here’s the question that kept echoing in my head long after I left: Even if I wanted to toss that kind of money towards this—would this be a sustainable way to lose weight?

The answer, in my opinion, is no.

Yes, treatments like XX might help you feel lighter temporarily. They might reduce water retention or give the illusion of inch loss for a day or two. But they don’t tackle the real work of long-term health. They don’t change your habits, heal your relationship with food, improve your gut health, build muscle, or give you the mental discipline to maintain results. What they offer is a band-aid—not a cure. A temporary fix, not a lasting transformation.

Sustainable weight management doesn’t come wrapped in plastic or warmed under infrared lights. It comes through consistency, movement, nourishment, hydration, stress management, and sleep. It comes through understanding your body and showing up for it, day after day, even when the progress is slow and unglamorous. And most importantly, it comes from loving yourself enough to seek health, not just aesthetics.

So would I go back? No. Not because the session was terrible—it wasn’t. It was actually quite soothing. But the experience that followed broke the trust. It felt like a bait-and-switch, wrapped in lavender oil and soft towels.

Would I recommend it to others? Only with a strong warning: go in with your eyes wide open. Know what you're getting into. Enjoy the pampering if that’s what you’re after, but don’t let anyone make you feel like you’re broken or “less than” unless you fork out tens of thousands of dollars.

There are far more empowering, accessible, and lasting ways to take care of your body. Ways that don’t involve high-pressure sales, celebrity illusions, or unrealistic price tags.

Because real wellness doesn’t cost $49,000. It costs time, commitment, and a little bit of self-love.

Healing from Childhood Trauma and Abuse

 

Childhood trauma and abuse leave deep scars that shape how we see ourselves and the world. Growing up in an environment filled with neglect, manipulation, or violence does not simply fade away with time. Instead, these experiences resurface in adulthood as anxiety, depression, low self-worth, trust issues, and difficulties in forming healthy relationships. Healing from such wounds is a long and often painful process, but it is possible. It requires courage, self-awareness, and, in many cases, the ability to distance oneself from toxic relationships—even when those relationships involve family.  

The pain of childhood trauma is not just about isolated incidents of abuse or neglect but rather the cumulative effect of growing up in a world where love and safety were conditional, if present at all. Some were physically harmed, while others endured emotional and verbal abuse—many experiencing both. Some grew up constantly criticized, belittled, or compared to others, leading them to believe they were never enough. Others were raised by narcissistic parents who only valued them when they served a purpose, disregarding their needs at all other times.  

For many, including myself, the greatest betrayal came not from being neglected but from being actively harmed by those who were supposed to protect us. Rather than offering guidance, support, or love, they inflicted pain and then blamed us for our reactions. My own father, rather than standing by me as I sought healing, resorted to threats—attempting to shame me into silence by vowing to expose my struggles. But his threats hold no power over me anymore. My past does not define me. If anything, it is proof of my strength and resilience.  

What I have come to understand is that abusers fear exposure more than their victims fear judgment. They build intricate facades, deceiving those around them while ensuring their victims remain silent. But silence is no longer an option. Speaking out about childhood trauma is not about seeking pity—it is about reclaiming power.  

One of the hardest truths to accept is that childhood trauma often breeds dysfunctional behavior in adulthood. When children grow up in abusive, manipulative, or neglectful environments, they internalize those experiences. They learn to tolerate toxic behavior, struggle with self-worth, and sometimes even replicate the patterns they once endured. But cycles can be broken. Healing begins with acknowledging the past and recognizing how it has shaped us. It means identifying toxic behaviors within ourselves—whether it’s people-pleasing, emotional numbness, or self-sabotage—and actively working to change them. It means unlearning the belief that love must be earned through suffering.  

For me, the realization that it was okay to walk away from those who refused to change—even if they were family—was a pivotal moment. For years, I tried to be the “good child,” seeking approval and hoping that love and kindness would change my father. But his latest actions—publicly undermining my achievements while continuing to favor others—made it clear that he had no intention of changing. His reasoning for dismissing my efforts, claiming that my contributions were not as worthy as someone else’s, was the final straw. It took years for me to accept that no matter how much I achieved, it would never be enough for him. That is no longer my burden to carry.  

For those of us who have endured childhood trauma, one of the greatest struggles is learning that forgiveness does not mean allowing continued abuse. Society often pressures survivors to “forgive and forget,” particularly when it comes to family. But true forgiveness is about releasing the burden of anger—not about tolerating mistreatment. Recently, I found myself grappling with guilt, questioning whether cutting ties with my father was the right decision. I worried that by choosing peace, I was somehow failing in my faith. However, two priests reassured me that prioritizing my well-being was not only acceptable but necessary. One of them offered words that stayed with me: *"Healing starts with detachment. Do whatever it takes to heal; self-care is your priority. You are on the right path."*  

Hearing those words freed me from the guilt I had carried for so long. I finally understood that walking away from toxic family members does not mean I am abandoning my values—it means I am honoring my worth.  

Healing from childhood trauma is not a linear journey. Some days, the past feels like a distant memory, while on others, it resurfaces unexpectedly. But healing is possible. It requires time, patience, and a willingness to confront pain rather than suppress it. I have learned to set firm boundaries, recognizing that protecting my peace is essential. Therapy and spiritual guidance have helped me process my experiences and find clarity. I have chosen to surround myself with love, understanding that true family is not defined by blood but by those who uplift and support me. Letting go of the need for validation has been liberating, as I no longer seek approval from those who will never give it. And returning to my faith has given me a sense of peace I never imagined possible, reminding me that I am loved, valued, and fully capable of healing.  

To anyone who has endured childhood trauma: You are not alone. Your pain is real, but it does not define you. You have the power to break the cycle, to heal, and to create a life filled with love, peace, and joy. The journey will not always be easy—there will be moments of doubt, grief, and anger—but every step toward healing is a step toward freedom. And freedom is worth everything.

A Reflection on 2024 and Embracing the Promise of 2025

 The year 2024 was a whirlwind—a time of lessons, challenges, and profound growth. Anybody else feel like 2024 was all about healing, trusting, and letting go? For me, it was a year of immense self-discovery, of facing hurdles that stretched me beyond my comfort zone and redefining what I believed I was capable of. And as the calendar turns, I am resolute in my belief that 2025 will be my best year yet.

Looking back, 2024 felt like an intricate tapestry woven with moments of pain, joy, and transformation. Some of the hardest moments came with the loss of loved ones. My dear uncle Zavier left a void that could never truly be filled. Yet, in his absence, I found strength in honoring his memory. Donating blood to continue Uncle Zavier’s legacy and to hold on to his presence in my life. His departure was a reminder of how fleeting life is and the importance of treasuring the people we love.

The loss of Sunny, our beloved family bird of eight years, was another heartbreaking moment. Sunny was more than just a pet; Sunny was family, a source of comfort and joy who brought light to our days. Losing Sunny was like losing a child, a pain that echoed in the quiet corners of our home. 

In addition, my daughter’s close friend passed away unexpectedly, leaving Lani and all of us grappling with sorrow. It was a stark reminder of life’s unpredictability and how precious every moment truly is. Watching Lani navigate her grief while still finding strength to thrive in her passion for fashion design was both humbling and inspiring.

2024 also demanded difficult decisions, like moving away from my father. His toxic behavior had been a source of strain for too long, and while the decision to distance myself was painful, it was necessary for my well-being. Choosing to prioritize my peace over the bonds of obligation was a lesson in self-respect and the courage it takes to let go of relationships that no longer serve us.

Despite the challenges, 2024 was a year of immense growth. It taught me to adapt, to embrace change, and to find strength in resilience. My eight-year juicing journey became more than a wellness routine—it was a symbol of consistency and self-care that sustained me during turbulent times.

Moments with family brought solace amidst the chaos. Early morning walks with my mum at the stadium became a sanctuary for reflection and a reminder of the unwavering support she has always given me. Watching Logan’s determination in go-karting and Lani’s accomplishments as a fashion graduate filled my heart with pride. Even in the face of loss and trials, these moments reminded me of the love and resilience that binds us as a family.

As I step into 2025, my heart is brimming with hope and determination. I’ve already decided that this year is going to be ridiculously amazing. I wish for 2025 to bring good health, happiness, wealth, peace of mind, and prosperity—not just for myself, but for everyone reading this.

This year, I am ready to embrace a new chapter in my life. I don’t need to be rich or famous. I don’t seek perfection. All I want is to live a life free of stress and worry, to find happiness in the little things, and to nurture my well-being. 2025 can be a year of transformation—a time when we can all be in a different space mentally, spiritually, and financially. I firmly believe that with hard work, faith, and perseverance, we can achieve the life we envision for ourselves.

2025 is a blank canvas, waiting to be painted with vibrant colors of possibility. It is a year of embracing the unknown and thriving amidst the unexpected. For me, it will be a year of continuing to prioritize health—both physical and mental. Starting mornings early with healthy routines and focusing on weight loss goals are part of this journey. But beyond physical transformation, 2025 is about cultivating inner peace and joy.

Spiritually, I am committed to deepening my faith. Returning to church was a blessing that reignited a flame of peace and gratitude in my heart. I plan to continue reflecting on the Gospel and living its teachings. Faith has been a source of strength for me, and I hope to share its light with others, inspiring them to find comfort and purpose in their own journeys.

To everyone reading this, I want to remind you that 2025 can be a completely different year for you. It’s never too late to start over, to set new goals, and to believe in your ability to create a better life. Keep working, keep believing, and keep moving forward. Trust that everything you’ve been through is preparing you for something greater.

Let’s make 2025 a year to remember—a year of growth, joy, and prosperity. Here’s to living life without stress and worries, to finding happiness in the simple things, and to cherishing the moments that truly matter. May this year bring us all closer to our dreams and fill our lives with love, peace, and fulfillment.

Happy 2025! Let’s make it ridiculously amazing.

Reflections of Christmas: Cherishing Family, Faith, and the Spirit of Giving

 

Christmas is a season that brings with it a range of emotions and reflections, offering an opportunity to pause, reflect, and reconnect with what truly matters. It is a time when we find ourselves looking back at the year gone by, remembering our loved ones, and thinking deeply about the lessons we've learned. In the quiet moments of the holiday season, there is an invitation to reflect on the importance of family, cherish those we hold dear, embrace the spirit of giving, reconnect with our faith, and acknowledge our personal growth. However, it also brings with it a sense of longing for those who are no longer with us and a deep appreciation for the family traditions that continue to shape our lives.

As Christmas approaches, I often find myself filled with gratitude for family—the foundation of love, support, and shared experiences. The love that binds families together is a source of strength, even in times of distance or difficulty. I am reminded of the many Christmases spent with family members, the laughter shared around the dinner table, the warmth of togetherness, and the understanding that transcends any disagreement. The bonds we create with our families are not simply in the presents we give but in the moments we share, the love we offer, and the memories we make together. These connections remind me of the power of unconditional love—a love that continues to endure, despite time and circumstances. This Christmas, I take a moment to reflect on those bonds, the people who have shaped my life, and the unspoken support that flows between us. Even in the quiet moments of reflection, I am grateful for the presence of family, both near and far.

Christmas also serves as a reminder to cherish those we have with us and to hold close the memories of those we have lost. The holiday season often stirs feelings of nostalgia, especially for those whose loved ones are no longer with them. Each ornament on the tree, every family tradition, is a tribute to the people who have made those moments meaningful. It is in the quiet moments of reflection that we realize how much our loved ones—those who are still with us and those who have passed—have shaped who we are. The stories we share, the traditions we uphold, and the legacy of love and kindness they left behind continue to influence our lives in ways we may not always see but deeply feel. As I decorate the tree or prepare for a holiday meal, I carry them in my heart, knowing that they are part of who I am. Their presence lives on through the memories we cherish, and in the small ways we continue to honor their lives during this special season.

At the heart of Christmas is the spirit of giving. While the commercialization of the season often focuses on material gifts, the true joy of Christmas lies in the small, meaningful acts of generosity that bring warmth to the heart. Giving is not only about the things we can touch or unwrap, but about giving our time, kindness, and presence. It is easy to get caught up in the hustle and bustle of the season—shopping for the perfect gift, planning the perfect meal, or checking off an endless list of tasks. Yet, it is often the simplest gestures that make Christmas truly special: a heartfelt note, a thoughtful gesture, or the time spent with those who matter most. It is in these small acts of giving that we feel the true essence of the season. They remind us that love is not measured by what we can give, but by how we make others feel. In a world that sometimes feels cold, each act of kindness, no matter how small, spreads warmth and light, and it is this spirit of giving that makes Christmas truly magical.

Christmas also invites a moment of pause—a time to reconnect with our faith and reflect on the deeper meaning of the season. The birth of Christ is a reminder of hope, love, and peace. For many, Christmas is a time to revisit their spiritual beliefs and find strength in their faith. It is a time to reflect on the true purpose of the season and to center oneself in the quiet moments of prayer and reflection. As I celebrate Christmas, I am reminded of the peace that Christ’s birth brought into the world and how this peace is still available to us today, even in the midst of life’s challenges. The Christmas story is one of humility, grace, and the promise of love, and it is in these moments of reflection that I am reminded of the deep connection I have with my faith. This season, I seek to deepen that connection and embrace the peace that comes with it—knowing that no matter what the year has brought, love and peace are always within reach.

As the year draws to a close, Christmas is also a time of personal reflection—a time to acknowledge the growth and lessons of the past year. It is a time to celebrate how far we have come, even if the journey has been difficult. This season invites us to look inward and appreciate the progress we’ve made in our personal lives, whether it’s in our relationships, careers, or individual growth. Christmas offers the chance to set intentions for the future and embrace the opportunities that lie ahead. It is a reminder that with each new year comes the possibility of renewal—of starting afresh, learning new lessons, and embracing change. As I look back on the year, I see moments of triumph and struggle, but most importantly, I see how each experience has shaped me into who I am today. This Christmas, I take time to reflect on those lessons, express gratitude for the growth, and look forward to the opportunities the new year holds.

However, amidst the celebrations, Christmas can also bring a sense of longing for those we have lost. It is a time when the absence of loved ones is felt more deeply, and the memories of their presence can stir feelings of sadness. As I gather with my family, I am reminded of those who are no longer with us—those whose laughter no longer fills the room and whose faces are no longer present around the dinner table. This Christmas, I acknowledge the bittersweet feeling of missing those who have passed. While the holidays bring joy, they also bring with them the sadness of their absence. Yet, I find comfort in knowing that their love still surrounds me, carried in the traditions we uphold and the memories we cherish. Though they are no longer physically present, they continue to shape the way we celebrate, and in our hearts, they are with us always.

Christmas is a time when family traditions take on a special significance. These traditions—whether it’s decorating the tree together, singing carols, or enjoying a holiday meal—serve as anchors that connect us to the past and bring us closer together. They create a sense of continuity, reminding us that the love we share is timeless and unbroken. As we gather around the table or exchange gifts, we are participating in a tradition that has been passed down through generations. These rituals, no matter how small or simple, become the fabric of our lives, weaving together moments of joy, laughter, and love. Christmas traditions not only help us honor the past but also create lasting memories for the future.

Christmas is a season filled with reflection, gratitude, and joy. It offers a chance to appreciate the importance of family, cherish our loved ones, embrace the spirit of giving, reconnect with our faith, and acknowledge our personal growth. While the holiday season can also bring feelings of longing for those we have lost, it is also a time to celebrate the traditions that continue to shape our lives. Christmas reminds us of the love that surrounds us, the blessings we often overlook, and the importance of pausing to reflect on the deeper meaning of the season. As we look ahead to the new year, we carry with us the lessons learned, the memories made, and the hope that the future holds.