I didn’t plan on starting this project. It began after life hit me in a way I never expected. My heart was full, my mind was racing, and my soul felt like it had reached capacity. I was trying to keep moving forward because, as we all know, life doesn’t stop when we fall apart.
A couple months ago, something happened that shook the ground beneath me. Out of respect for everyone involved, I won’t share details — but it was the kind of heartbreak that rewires your world. I had a trip planned around that time and decided to go anyway, hoping distance might quiet the noise inside me. It didn’t. My thoughts were heavy, sleep was scarce, and by the time I returned home, I was completely unraveling.
Then it happened — a moment I can only describe as hitting the end of myself. My mind was spiraling into dark, chaotic thoughts. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I isolated myself so no one would see me like that, but in that silence, something sacred broke through.
I called out to Jesus. Not in a rehearsed prayer, but in desperation — the kind of cry that comes from the deepest, rawest place of the soul.
And He met me there.
The peace that followed was unexplainable. My body was trembling, tears streaming, but my heart… it was smiling. The heaviness lifted. It felt like love itself was filling the room. I stayed there for what felt like forever, breathing in this strange mix of joy, awe, and holy fear. When I finally came out, my family thought I was losing my mind — and in a way, I had. I had lost the mind of the man I was and found something new being born.
That experience changed everything. It was the moment I realized Jesus is not just found in churches or good days — He’s found in the wreckage, in the pain, in the parts of ourselves we try hardest to hide. From that day forward, I decided to live differently. To stop hiding. To write. To heal out loud.
The first words that came out of me became the song “Mend What’s Mine.”
It was my way of saying: I know I’m broken. I know I can’t fix myself. But I believe the One who can.
This is where the journey began — not in triumph, but in surrender.
This space will be a living testimony — a record of what it means to walk through the fire and still find grace. I don’t have everything figured out, and I’m not here to preach. I’m here to share what it looks like to heal in real time, to wrestle with faith and fear, to pray through pain, and to discover Jesus in the middle of it all.
Some days will be full of hope. Others might be heavy. But all of it will be real.
If even one person finds peace or healing through these words, then the pain that started this journey will not have been wasted.
Welcome to the beginning of my story — or maybe, the rebirth of it.
