Rewriting the Story

Hi Family!!

I want to share a story with you.

This past weekend, I traveled to Wisconsin for my little brother, Corey’s graduation. He just finished his master’s degree in environmental science, and the one thing he asked for was for his family to be there. So we went.

It was me, my dad, my other brother, Joshua who flew in from Dallas with his wife, Mili, and our grandfather and his wife. My mom met us there in her truck—because she’s a truck driver and which makes her genuinely one of the coolest people I know.

And I’ll be honest: this trip was harder than I expected.

Wisconsin in December is not exactly ideal. From the very beginning, we ran into issue after issue—travel delays, rushing, exhaustion, cold that settles deep into your bones. Somewhere along the way, I noticed my inner narrative shifting. Nothing dramatic. No big emotional blowup. Just subtle.

I was critical. Irritated. Focused on what was going wrong instead of what the trip was actually about.

Our flight home ended up getting canceled, which meant we were stuck overnight in Chicago. By then, I had already been away from Brian and the kids for three days. It was an average temp of –2° while we were in Wisconsin, I hadn’t slept much, and I was so done.

Before I left to go to Wisconsin, people kept saying, “Enjoy your time away.” That phrase replayed in my head, and if I’m being honest, it irritated me. I don’t take time away often—and in that moment, this didn’t feel enjoyable. I was cold, tired, stretched thin, and everything felt heavier than it needed to be.

So there we were—me and my dad—at the hotel after the cancellation. We updated everyone, then set our alarms for 2:45 a.m. to grab an Uber back to the airport for a 5 a.m. flight.

Before trying to sleep, I took a shower because I was freezing and needed to reset my body temperature.

This hotel was complementary from Delta for the mishap with the flight (which I had to fight for!!) and this wasn’t the type of place you’d take the family to… The shower squeaked. Loudly. Constantly. I tried to fix it. Couldn’t. So I just sat there, exhausted, letting the hot water run, listening to it squeal, grateful to be still for five minutes.

And in that moment, everything slowed down.

I realized I was actively rewriting the meaning of the entire experience in my head—and I didn’t like the story I was telling myself.

What made it worse was realizing it wasn’t just affecting me. It had set a tone. It was influencing my dad. It was bleeding into conversations with my family. I had to pause long enough to see it.

That’s when the Holy Spirit stepped in—not harshly, just clearly—and reminded me that my mind has been renewed. I don’t have to default to old patterns of thinking and I have to be responsible of the influence I carry.

My default, when things don’t go my way, is to fixate on what’s wrong. I’m a driver. I like solutions. I want things to work. When they don’t, my attention locks onto the problem.

But my mind has been renewed.

That conviction hit, and I repented right there in there in the shower.

“God, I’m Your daughter. I’m a citizen of heaven. I don’t need to let this take over.”

When I got out, I decided to text the whole family. Not to be poetic. Not to sound spiritual. But because I refused to let frustration dominate the narrative of this trip.

Once I made that shift, the Holy Spirit started reminding me of everything I loved—and I realized how far off track I’d been.

So I sent this:

As I’m sitting here and finally have a moment to reflect, I want to shame the devil and give God some glory by highlighting everything I loved about this trip.

It started with stopping at Cumberland Farms on the way to the airport, where the guy behind the counter gave me a fresh donut—his favorite kind.

Taking off in the plane, which is still one of my favorite things. The sky was overcast, the sun nowhere in sight—until we broke through the clouds. Suddenly, there it was. A reminder that sometimes you just have to rise above the atmosphere you’re in to see the light again.

The rental car guy giving us a direct number to call if we needed help. And the car had heated seats that truly saved my sanity in this frigid weather.

Breakfast at Denny’s with my dad was amazing. And I loved jamming out to worship music on the drive to Corey’s place. I loved driving through Sheboygan—still fun to say out loud.

Seeing where my brother Corey lives was beautiful. Watching him show me all his favorite things in his apartment was adorable- it reminded me of when he was little and would show me his Lego builds. Laughing uncontrollably while overtired as he tried on his graduation gear and accidentally looked like a wizard because the gown doesn’t even have arm holes.

Running to the local Pick ’n Save to grab things for the hotel room and being way too excited about seeing Green Bay Packers gear in a grocery store. I honestly enjoyed picking out small things to make the room that mom and I would stay in comfortable. I was able to take an incredible bath before dinner.

We had dinner at this awesome Star Wars-themed place called Cheesesteak Rebellion and I took a million pictures- Brian would love it! I loved sitting and talking with Corey’s girlfriend, Amanda at dinner. Hugging both of my brothers in one day—something I hadn’t done in a long time, and easily the best part of the trip.

Morning worship sessions with my mom. Seeing her truck where she lives and works—this massive rig she climbs in and out of like it’s nothing. Watching her move through it with confidence reminded me how strong she really is.

Driving around Green Bay. Seeing Lambeau Field from the highway. Visiting the Packers Pro Shop. Realizing I survived the frozen tundra.

Seeing a frozen Great Lake—completely solid. Steam rising into the air as far as the horizon. Driving past an actual cheese castle.

Outfitting my life in Green Bay Packers gear—not the untouched, brand-new stuff, but pieces with history. Thrifted. Lived in. Finding more for the price of one item felt like a win.

Spending time with Amanda’s parents, who are genuinely wonderful people. Watching my brother receive his master’s degree. Sitting there realizing I got to be present to witness my little brother pave a path that will launch him into a prosperous future.

Even in that crummy little hotel room as I was writing the out I had the background noise of my dad screaming at the NFL players on the TV as if they could hear him. This brought me right back to the Football Sundays I grew up with and it made me chuckle. Although my childhood was wild- everything would stop on Sundays while we watched the games and I think that’s probably why I love football.

I finished off my message with:

God is so amazing. And if I’m honest, it makes me sad how easily I can default to noticing what’s wrong. But more than anything, I’m grateful. Grateful that I was able to take this trip. Grateful that I got to be present. Grateful that I got to be part of the story God is writing. What I love most about our family is that we show up for each other. We make it work. We come together when it matters. So thank you to everyone who helped make this trip possible. And thank you, Corey, for inviting us to come celebrate you. It has always been one of my favorite things to do—and always will be. I love you all.

When I finished writing, I felt the shift.

That’s why I’m sharing this.

It’s easy to let our minds run unchecked. I had valid reasons to feel frustrated—but frustration was shaping my entire outlook and nearly robbing me of the experience God had given me.

Our pastor has been teaching us about rewiring our minds—recognizing old thought patterns, interrupting them, and choosing truth instead of defaulting to frustration, fear, or control. That truth echoed in a squeaky hotel shower in Chicago.

Revelation didn’t come with fireworks. It came when I noticed my thoughts drifting, repented, and chose to retell the story the way it actually was—not the way irritation wanted to frame it.

Sometimes renewal is loud and powerful.

Sometimes it’s quiet, humbling, and deeply practical.

And sometimes the testimony isn’t in getting it right the first time—it’s in catching yourself, turning back, and letting God rewire your mind in real time.

So this is my long-winded way of reminding all of us to pay attention to what we’re thinking about—because our thoughts shape the trajectory of our walk with Christ. In that moment, I was frustrated with myself because I know better. But God is gracious. He gave me the opportunity to stop, repent, and realign.

Scripture tells us, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind” (Romans 12:2).

I’m not Superwoman. I still miss it sometimes. That’s why I love the Holy Spirit—because when I’m walking with Him, God doesn’t let me drift too far without pulling me back. And I can’t afford to get stuck in shame when He does, because shame will always take me further off course. God always brings me back.

And sometimes, the testimony isn’t in getting it right the first time.

Sometimes the testimony is in the comeback.

Honestly, I usually get the best stories out of the moments I’ve had to correct—not the ones where everything went perfectly.

So here’s my encouragement to you: pay attention to the story you’re telling yourself.

And for those walking into this season carrying real wounds—grief, loss, betrayal, empty seats at the table, memories that ache—this isn’t a call to pretend or perform. God is not asking you to slap joy over pain. He’s inviting you to bring the broken pieces to Him and let Him sit with you in it. Your tears don’t disqualify you; they water the ground where healing grows. Even if all you can do is whisper His name, that is enough.

This holiday, we rewrite the story together. Not by denying the hurt, but by refusing to let it define us. We choose truth over lies, light over darkness, presence over pressure. Whether you’re roaring with praise or barely holding on, you are still a diamond in the hands of the King—formed, seen, and fiercely loved. So shine however you can. Even a flicker pushes back the dark.

Not every hard moment needs to change—but every thought can. You may not need a new situation, a better plan, or more control. You might just need to pause long enough to ask, Is this the story God is telling, and if not who is writing?

And sometimes that shift happens in a squeaky shower in Chicago.