For the Girl Who Knew at 29: Why I’m Finally Saying Yes Again to the dream

At 29 years old, I knew I was called to be a Christian speaker and writer.

Not because I thought I had all the wisdom or theology figured out.
Not because I had a polished message or a perfect life.
But quite the opposite.

At 29, I was a single mom with a broken heart and a story I never thought I’d be telling.
My dreams of a “happily ever after” had gone up in flames. I was living in the ashes of disappointment and heartbreak, unsure how to move forward—but very aware that Jesus was doing something new in me.

What changed everything was witnessing God radically renew the man I once called my ex-husband.
I remarried him—but this time, it was to a completely different man.
Not because his name had changed.
But because his heart had.

God didn’t just restore a marriage. He resurrected two lives—and gave us a second chance at faith and family.

But even that beautiful redemption story isn’t the full reason I wanted to become a writer and speaker.
The real reason is simpler, more intimate:

Someone else’s story saved me.

A single article, given to me by my mother-in-law, written by a Christian woman who had walked a similar road—married, divorced, and remarried to the same man.
Her vulnerability, her testimony, her hope… it lit something in me that I couldn’t ignore.

That article was a lifeline.
It whispered, “You’re not alone. God still writes new chapters.”
And I made a quiet vow in my heart:
I will put this kind of story back into circulation—for the next woman who needs it.

So I started writing.
I spoke at small events.
I showed up at Christian writers’ conferences with book proposals in hand and hope in my heart.
I got an agent. I published a few articles.

And then…
Life.
Responsibility.
Delay.
Self-doubt.

Somewhere along the way, the dream I held at 29 got put on a shelf labeled “Later.”

Now here I am, two decades later.
I’ve lived a full life. I’ve gained wisdom the hard way. I’ve walked with God through dark valleys and watched Him bring light where I never expected it.

But something is stirring again.

Not a new calling—
But a return to an old one.

The one that began not in confidence, but in surrender.
Not with credentials, but with a cracked heart and a holy longing.
To write. To speak. To tell the truth about grace and failure and hope.
To say to someone else what was once said to me:
Don’t give up. God isn’t done.

It’s going to take courage.
It’s going to mean doing hard things.
It’s going to require me to show up—heart open, voice shaky, but willing.

But I want to hold myself accountable to the girl I was at 29.
She’s still in here somewhere—wide-eyed, scared, but full of dreams.
She believed I’d come back for her.
And today, I am.

To the woman reading this who has buried a calling under the weight of real life:
It’s not too late.
You haven’t missed your moment.
You’re not disqualified.

I believe it’s time to reclaim our story in a way that honors God above our fears.

Sometimes the dream takes a detour—but it’s never dead.
Especially when Jesus is the one writing the story.

listen to this podcast for quick update on dreams : https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-heart-of-the-story/id1483621606?i=1000461340484

Id love to hear if you have a few dreams that feel detoured too?