How It Began
A Return to
Holy Ground.
There was a season when I forgot myself.
As a mother navigating one of the hardest chapters of my life, I poured everything I had into caring for my family and trying to save my adult son. My days became consumed with worry, prayer, vigilance, and survival. Somewhere along the way, I forgot that I was more than the caretaker. More than the crisis. More than the roles I carried.
At the time, I had been studying the ancient practice of anointing and how oil was used throughout scripture to consecrate what was sacred. One day, I reached for a bottle of olive oil I had imported from the Holy Land and placed a few drops in my hands.
As the fragrance rose, something within me softened.
I remembered that I was not only a mother. I was also a daughter of God. Beloved. Held. Worthy of care, too. That simple act became a doorway home.
Through scent, touch, beauty, and prayer, I began returning to myself and to the quiet knowing that God's presence had never left me.
What began as a personal ritual eventually became oils, prayers, art, teachings, and a living body of work devoted to a single remembrance:
You are not broken. You are also holy ground.
And you can always return.
"When someone you love is struggling and you can't fix it, it can consume your entire life. You don't have to live that way."
