April 18 – Alignment
The last few days haven’t been depression.
It’s been something heavier than that.
A weight I couldn’t quite explain—until I realized…
it wasn’t just uncertainty.
It was misalignment.
I know what it feels like now to be grounded, present, and at peace—even in the unknown.
So when I’m not there for long, I notice.
And I don’t want to stay there anymore.
So I asked myself honestly:
What am I not doing?
Two things kept coming back to me.
The first was a conversation from years ago—
a nurse I worked with whose husband had colon cancer.
They chose treatment, and she later said something that stayed with me:
“I wish we wouldn’t have done chemo.
I wish we would have just enjoyed the time we had.”
That memory hasn’t left me.
The second was a conversation with one of my closest friends.
Five people in their family had cancer.
Four chose conventional treatment.
One did not.
The one who didn’t… lived the longest.
And as I’ve been sitting with all of this,
I realized something my body has been trying to tell me:
I don’t think I want to do chemo this time.
I’m not closing doors—I’ll still talk with my doctors,
still ask questions, still understand my options.
But when I say it out loud,
my body feels lighter.
And that matters.
What surprised me most…
is what came next.
When I asked, “What am I supposed to be learning right now?”
the answer wasn’t about treatment.
It was about something I had quietly stopped doing.
Writing my books.
I told myself I had paused because of the illustration process.
Because it wasn’t coming together the “right” way.
But that’s not the truth.
I let the process stop me.
I let an expectation—of how it should look—
keep me from continuing something that matters deeply to me.
And today, that shifted.
So what if the pages don’t all match perfectly?
So what if one looks different than the next?
Who says it has to be done one way?
There will be someone who understands.
There will be someone who needs it exactly as it is.
So I’m moving forward.
I’m going to keep writing.
Keep creating.
Keep bringing these books to life—imperfectly, honestly, fully.
Not waiting.
Not holding back.
If I look back in six months, I want to see something real.
Something finished.
Something that came from this season—not in spite of it.
And if these words, these books,
end up meaning something more someday…
that’s enough.
Today, I chose alignment again.
And I can feel the difference.

I move forward imperfectly, but in alignment.
God meets me in alignment, not perfection.
That reads like a breath in and a breath out.
God Box Card (clean, simple text for printing)
(keeping it exactly how you like—no extras)
Front: I move forward imperfectly, but in alignment.
Back: God meets me in alignment, not perfection.