Interlude of a Queen: The Lessons Behind the Fight
Before we continue the story… let’s catch our breath.
Not because the fight is over—but because every Queen & King deserves a moment to look at how far they’ve come.
If you’ve been following my journey, you know I wasn’t ushered in with velvet ropes and golden keys—I clawed my way forward with bare hands and bold faith.
I arrived exhausted, bloodied with hope, and clutching two little hands—one in each of mine.
It wasn’t that purpose was absent—it was eclipsed by hard choices, heavy moments, and the noise of everything I thought I had to be. The road was patched with overdue notices, tears cried behind steering wheels, and dreams I wasn’t sure would ever bloom.
But somehow— No! By God’s grace and favor, I kept going.
This isn’t another chapter of how I got here—it’s a spotlight on the truths I’ve picked up along the way.
It’s a pause.
A mirror.
A gentle reminder that this story isn’t just mine—it’s ours.
I’ve shared pieces of the truth:
The weight of single motherhood.
The ache of ambition that feels too loud in a world that wants us quiet.
The terrifying beauty of choosing to rise, again and again, for the sake of our legacy.
And before I share what happens next—before I tell you how the doors finally began to open, how I started building what I once could only whisper in prayer—I want to offer you this:
Three Lessons from the Middle of the Climb
1. You are not waiting to become powerful. You already are.
Power doesn’t arrive wrapped in titles or money or peace.
Power reveals itself in moments:
- When you get up and cook breakfast even though you cried yourself to sleep.
- When you tell your child “we’re going to be okay” and mean it—even if you don’t know how yet.
- When you choose not to quit.
You are not becoming powerful.
You’ve been powerful.
Now, you just need to own it.
2. Ambition is not your burden. It’s your birthright.
They called it “too much.”
I call it direction.
Ambition is how your soul screams I was made for more.
So don’t shame yourself for wanting to break free from the labels and limitations society placed on your worth, or wanting rest and fullness.
Wanting more doesn’t make you ungrateful—it makes you aware of your capacity.
3. Legacy is built in the ordinary.
Not in the perfect moments. Not in a five-year plan.
Legacy is shaped on Tuesday nights, sitting on the edge of your kid’s bed, whispering “I believe in you.”
It’s in late-night applications, starting the side business, investing in a coach, or going back to school with a baby on your hip.
It’s in healing so your children don’t inherit your wounds.
Legacy isn’t what you leave behind.
It’s what you’re living, right now.
I’m telling my story not just to be heard… but to remind you that your own story is not over.
There’s more to share.
More to build.
And yes—more to fight for.
There’s more to share from the path I’ve walked. But I needed to pause and speak to you.
Because you’re not just a reader here.
You are the next author in your family’s legacy.
And to my single mommies: Queen…
You’ve got a kingdom to build.
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