Embracing Me

This Space Held Me

2026-04-01T23:30:00.002-04:00

...Now It Releases Me

There comes a moment when you realize something you've built with love has done exactly what it was meant to do.

For me, that space has been the Embracing Me blog.

This space held me through seasons I didn't always have words for: through growth, grief, healing, leadership, and so much more. It has carried stories written in quiet moments, in transition, in airports, in stillness, and sometimes in the middle of everything.

And now, I feel a shift! With gratitude, I'm allowing it to release me. Not an ending. An expansion.

I am officially transitioning the Embracing Me blog into an archive—honoring every word, every lesson, every reader who has been part of this journey.

I'm continuing forward in a new space.

I created a Substack where I’ll share my writing, reflections, and evolving work in a way that fosters deeper connection, consistency, and community.

If you’ve ever read something here that resonated with you…

If you’ve grown alongside these words…
If you believe in healing, wholeness, and living this life in real time…

I would love for you to join me there.

This next chapter feels intentional, grounded, and aligned. I’m carrying everything I’ve learned with me, and I hope you'll join me.

https://substack.com/@staciejwrites

With gratitude always,

Stacie J.

Grounded Women Series — Week 4: Michelle Obama + Mellody Hobson + Deborah Owens

2026-03-28T10:12:00.238-04:00

A Purse, A Purpose, and A Plan: Education, Wealth, and Women Building Financial Sovereignty

This essay is part of the Grounded Women series from Embracing Me by Stacie J. Whitaker-Harris. Please share with attribution. Reproduction without permission is not permitted.

Leadership is often measured in titles, income, or visibility. Yet the women who shape history most profoundly are rarely the ones chasing recognition. They are the ones who build quietly and steadily. They are grounded in education, purpose, and a vision larger than themselves.

Throughout this series, we have explored leadership in its fullest expression: physical strength, emotional intelligence, and spiritual grounding. In this final reflection, we turn our attention to academic and financial leadership, the kind of wisdom that creates opportunity not only for oneself, but for generations to come.

For many women, especially women of color and first-generation scholars, education and financial literacy are not simply personal achievements. They are tools of liberation. They are pathways to stability, independence, and the ability to shape one's own future.

This week we reflect on three women whose lives embody that truth: Michelle Obama, Mellody Hobson, and Deborah Owens.

Each of them demonstrates that intellectual excellence and financial wisdom are not about status or accumulation. They are about stewardship, empowerment, and long-term impact. Their stories remind us that brilliance is not about proving our worth, but about using our knowledge and resources with intention.

Michelle Obama: Education as a Foundation for Leadership

Discipline, education, and humility shaped the environment in which Michelle Obama was raised on Chicago’s South Shore. Those values became the foundation of her academic excellence. She graduated as salutatorian from Whitney Young High School before continuing her studies at Princeton University, where she earned a degree in sociology and African American studies. She later received her law degree from Harvard Law School.

Yet Mrs. Obama’s leadership was never defined solely by credentials or professional advancement.

Although she began her career at a major corporate law firm, her path soon shifted toward work centered on people and community. Over time, she served as Associate Dean of Students at the University of Chicago and later as Vice President for Community and External Affairs at the University of Chicago Hospitals. These roles reflected a leadership philosophy rooted not only in achievement, but in service and opportunity.

As First Lady of the United States, her initiatives reflected a commitment to education, wellness, and opportunity. Programs such as Let’s Move!, Reach Higher, and Let Girls Learn encouraged young people, especially girls, to pursue education and healthy living.

Through her books Becoming and The Light We Carry, Michelle Obama continues to emphasize a simple but powerful message: education is not merely a credential. It is a foundation that allows individuals to move through the world with confidence, curiosity, and agency.

Her leadership reminds us that intellectual achievement becomes meaningful when it is used to open doors for others.

Mellody Hobson: Financial Literacy as Empowerment

Financial knowledge has the power to transform lives, particularly for those who grow up experiencing economic uncertainty. Mellody Hobson understands that truth through lived experience.

Raised on Chicago’s South Side by a single mother who worked tirelessly to renovate apartments, Hobson witnessed both the challenges and possibilities that accompany financial instability. At times, her family faced eviction, repossession, and utility shutoffs. Despite those hardships, her mother instilled in her a belief that circumstances could change through discipline, learning, and perseverance.

Education became Hobson’s anchor. She pursued academic excellence with determination and eventually earned admission to Princeton University, where she became the first member of her family to graduate from college.

Although her career began with an internship at Ariel Investments during college, Hobson’s influence grew far beyond that early opportunity. Over time, she rose through the ranks to become president and co-CEO of the firm. Today, she is widely recognized as one of the most influential voices in finance and a leading advocate for financial literacy.

Her leadership reminds us that understanding money is not about wealth for its own sake. It is about freedom, security, and the ability to make thoughtful choices about one's future.

When financial knowledge is shared generously, it becomes a tool that can transform families and communities for generations.

Deborah Owens: Economic Confidence for Women

I was deeply saddened to learn of the passing of Deborah Owens earlier this year. Her work in financial education and wealth empowerment shaped the lives of countless women, including my own journey with financial literacy.

While some financial leaders focus on markets and institutions, Owens focused on people. Her work centered on helping women develop the confidence to participate in financial decision-making and long-term investing.

Before becoming widely known as America’s Wealth Coach, Owens spent two decades working as a vice president at Fidelity Investments. Over time she recognized that many women felt excluded from conversations about investing and wealth-building. Rather than accepting that reality, she committed herself to changing it.

Through her company WealthyU and her books A Purse of Your Own, Nickel and Dime Your Way to Wealth, and Confident Investing, Owens translated complex financial concepts into language that everyday people could understand.

Her message was clear: financial confidence is not reserved for Wall Street insiders. It is a skill that anyone can learn.

Owens encouraged women to move beyond fear and hesitation, reminding them that investing is ultimately about creating options, independence, and long-term security.

Her work reframed money not as something intimidating or exclusive, but as a tool that allows women to build the lives they envision.

Leadership Lesson

Together, Michelle Obama, Mellody Hobson, and Deborah Owens illustrate a powerful progression:

Education builds knowledge.
Financial literacy builds stability.
Purpose transforms both into legacy.

Their stories remind us that clarity, discipline, and a commitment to using one's gifts for the benefit of others represent a grounded form of leadership with genuine impact.

In my experience, true leadership is less about visibility and more about stewardship. It is how we cultivate knowledge, resources, and opportunities in ways that allow others to rise as well.

Where Learning Becomes Leadership in Practice

Beyond their public achievements, the lessons these women offer resonate deeply with my own journey.

This theme speaks to me as someone who has pursued education, served as a leader in my community, and continues to grow as a creative entrepreneur, learning what it means to build a life aligned with purpose.

I am also a first-generation scholar. For many of us who are first-generation students, success is rarely a straight path. It is often shaped by resilience, curiosity, and a willingness to keep moving forward even when the road is uncertain.

Leadership is not about having everything figured out. It is about remaining committed to growth, using what we learn along the way to create opportunities for others.

My own journey with learning is still unfolding, and I carry it with a quiet confidence that education, curiosity, and purpose will continue to shape the work I am called to do for many years to come.

Like the women highlighted here, I see intellectual and financial leadership not simply as personal milestones, but as opportunities to expand possibilities within our own lives and within the communities we serve.

An Invitation to Reflect

As you consider your own journey, you might reflect on questions such as:

What experiences have shaped how you think about opportunity, education, or learning?
What have you learned, or what would you like to learn about managing money, investing, or building financial security?
In what ways might your knowledge, skills, or experiences create opportunities for others?

Brilliance is not defined by how much we achieve.
It is revealed in how thoughtfully we use what we have been given.

Closing

Across this series, we explored leadership through the body, the mind, the spirit, and the wisdom we carry into our lives and communities. As we conclude the series, one truth becomes clear: leadership is not a single trait or title. It is a way of moving through the world.

Over these four weeks, we have witnessed women who led with their bodies, minds, spirits, and resources. Women who ran boldly, spoke honestly, remained anchored in faith, and built intellectual and financial legacies that continue to shape the lives of others.

Their stories remind us that leadership is not reserved for stages or offices. It lives in the daily decisions we make: how we care for our bodies, how we tell the truth about our lives, how we remain grounded in purpose, and how we steward the knowledge and resources entrusted to us.

Grounded women understand that influence is about alignment, becoming the kind of person whose life quietly creates space for others to rise.

And perhaps that is the greatest lesson these women leave behind. Leadership is not something we chase. It is something we cultivate one disciplined step, one honest conversation, one courageous choice at a time.

While this series comes to a close, the deeper work of living grounded through healing, reflection, and purposeful leadership continues here at Embracing Me.

Women who lead from a grounded place do more than achieve success. They create conditions where others can grow.

Grounded women do not simply lead. They cultivate legacy, knowing leadership begins where grounding takes root.

Thoughtfully,

Stacie J.

Embracing Me is becoming an archive as I transition into a new writing space.

Join me on Substack for continued reflections and new work: https://substack.com/@staciejwrites

Grounded Women Series — Week 3: Vashti Murphy McKenzie + Josephine Truxton Ridgley

2026-03-21T10:03:00.001-04:00

Shepherds Who Lead With Presence:
Faith Beyond Performance

This essay is part of the Grounded Women series from Embracing Me by Stacie J. Whitaker-Harris. Please share with attribution. Reproduction without permission is not permitted.

Last week in our series, we explored the emotional courage modeled by Taraji P. Henson and Brené Brown, two women who remind us that vulnerability is not weakness, but strength. They challenge the idea that we must appear well while quietly carrying the weight of unresolved pain.

But vulnerability does not stop with awareness.

Eventually, it asks something more of us.

How do we live from that truth?
How do we lead our lives and our communities from a place that is grounded, honest, and whole?

This week I want to explore spiritual leadership.

Not the kind rooted in titles, platforms, or performance, but the kind that grows quietly within us as we learn to lead ourselves first.

Because before we shepherd others, we must learn how to sit with our own souls.

Two remarkable women influenced me with this kind of leadership: Bishop Vashti Murphy McKenzie and Bishop Dr. Josephine Truxton Ridgley.

Their leadership modeled something I deeply needed: space for authenticity, curiosity, and healing.

My Spiritual Journey Didn’t Start in a Church

When I think about my spiritual faith journey, it did not begin in a sanctuary or during a sermon. It began when I was eight years old, sitting in my living room, contemplating life and death. It was the first time I experienced suicidal ideation.

Of course, at eight years old, I did not know what to call it. I just knew something heavy had settled into my mind. In that same moment, I also experienced something else: an encounter with God that would stay with me long after the moment passed.

Even though those thoughts resurfaced later in life, that encounter did something important for me.

It kept me honest about my feelings. It softened me enough to stay open, vulnerable, and sometimes even vocal to a fault because society often tells us to quiet our pain.

“Hush now.”
“Life isn’t that bad.”
“Look at people who have it worse.”

Our experiences often minimized, our feelings dismissed, and we are told to push through.

But my relationship with God never allowed me to pretend I was okay when I wasn’t. Instead, it led me into a lifelong process of learning and unlearning.

For me, walking with God has meant studying the Bible, asking questions, and developing a personal relationship outside of rigid systems.

To some, that might look like rebellion. For me, it has always been the process of discovering my true identity. The one given before the formation.

When a Book Opens Something in You

Sometime around 2008, I picked up the book Journey to the Well by Bishop Vashti Murphy McKenzie. I will not lie. That book opened something in me. It exposed my guilt, my shame, and the brokenness I had been carrying quietly for years. But it also gave me the courage to keep moving forward in whatever way I could.

Standing.
Crawling.
Sitting.

Or even lying down while the process unfolded, because healing is not linear.

For years, I wrestled with the language and traditions I had inherited in religious spaces. Some practices encouraged growth, but others asked me to shrink. Stay quiet. Push through exhaustion. Ignore my needs. Serve without rest.

Eventually I realized something important.

Leadership that requires you to disappear is not leadership rooted in love. It is performance.

Leadership That Makes Room for Humanity

Later in my journey, I became a minister at Called to Action Church under the leadership of Bishop Dr. Josephine Truxton Ridgley.

She did something many people had not allowed me to do.

She allowed me to show up as myself.

She welcomed questions. She encouraged learning, community, service, and rest.

She corrected me when I needed it, which I welcomed, because no one is above accountability. But correction came from love, not control.

She also allowed me to lead Bible studies, which deepened my hunger for learning and studying even more.

During that season, I needed that kind of leadership more than anyone realized.

At the time, my life felt like it was unraveling.

I was homeless.
Working endless hours.
Separated from my children in ways that still break my heart to think about.

In order to make sure they were safe; we had to live in separate households.

While I was trying to survive, the wounded little girl inside me was still making decisions from unresolved trauma.

I was still searching for love in places that could never hold it.

That little girl carried daddy issues and trauma so complex that she did not even realize she was creating chaos in the grown woman’s life and in the lives of her children.

It is strange how survival can convince you that you are making the best decisions available.

Only later do you look back and cringe at the choices you were making along the way.

I have spent a lot of time apologizing for that version of myself. Not because I carry shame anymore, but because I now understand the impact of unresolved trauma.

Learning to Live Without Chaos

When I left Baltimore and moved to Georgia, something began to shift. That is where my healing journey began to settle.

My Grace New Hope family surrounded me with kindness and support. Pastors Randy and Anita Rainwater walked alongside me in ways that helped me begin building healthier foundations.

They taught me something that once felt unfamiliar.

Boundaries.
Self-love.
Peace.

But when you have adapted to chaos for a long time, calm can feel uncomfortable, even suspicious.

Healing often requires learning an entirely new rhythm.

For me, that rhythm continued to deepen when I later moved to Arizona.

When Healing Finally Finds Its Doorway

My Kaleo community in Arizona helped carry me even further into the work of healing. My mentor Gayle helped me see something I had never fully understood before.

I was not struggling to heal simply because of what others had done to me.

I was struggling because I had not forgiven the little girl inside me.

She was scared. She had survived the only way she knew how. Letting go of old patterns felt terrifying because they were familiar. Trauma had become part of her identity.

Without it, who would she be?

Not the titles.
Not the roles.
Not the hats we wear.

Just being.

And learning how to exist without performing survival was one of the hardest lessons of my life.

Why Embracing Me Was Born

Looking back, I believe this is why the vision for Embracing Me formed in my spirit many years ago, long before it became a blog.

Embracing Me is more than a platform. It is a journey of self-discovery, healing, and honoring the divine within.

Here I share my life experiences, the beautiful, the broken, and the still unfolding, to remind others that healing is possible.

For years, I hid my gifts and my stories out of fear. Through faith, I have chosen to embrace who I am and share my God-given talents with the world.

Through essays, poetry, coaching, and peer support, my hope is to guide others toward wholeness, learning to live fully and freely in harmony with mind, body, and spirit.

Because Embracing Me is not just about my journey.

It is about yours too.

We all deserve to experience wholeness.

Sacred Self-Leadership: A Personal Inventory

This week I invite you to pause and sit with yourself for a moment. Not to rush toward answers, but to explore what leadership might look like in your own life.

Leading Yourself

What emotions have I been taught to silence or minimize?
What would compassion toward my younger self look like today?
Where in my life am I performing instead of being honest?

Leading in Community

Do the spaces I belong to allow room for curiosity, questions, and growth?
Where am I shrinking to maintain acceptance?
How might my presence, not my perfection, serve others?

Healing and Spiritual Grounding

What beliefs about faith or spirituality am I ready to examine or redefine?
What parts of my story still carry shame that need gentleness instead?
What practices help me reconnect to peace, love, and joy?

Looking Ahead

Spiritual leadership teaches us how to come home to ourselves. It reminds us that healing, honesty, and compassion are not weaknesses. They are foundations.

When we learn to lead our own lives with presence, something begins to shift. We stop performing survival and start building something more sustainable.

Peace.
Wisdom.
Purpose.

Eventually that inner work begins to influence how we move through life. It shapes how we pursue education, how we steward resources, and how we create stability not just for ourselves, but for the generations that follow.

Because leadership is not only emotional or spiritual. It is practical too. It shows up in the choices we make about knowledge, money, opportunity, and legacy.

Next week we will explore what it looks like when women step into academic and financial leadership.

Through the examples of Michelle Obama, Mellody Hobson, and Deborah Owens, we will talk about what it means to build a purse, a purpose, and a plan, and why financial sovereignty is one of the most powerful forms of leadership women can cultivate.

Because healing your life is powerful.

But learning how to sustain it is transformational.

Thoughtfully Yours,

Stacie J.

Embracing Me is becoming an archive as I transition into a new writing space.

Join me on Substack for continued reflections and new work: https://substack.com/@staciejwrites

Grounded Women Series — Week 2: Taraji P. Henson + Brené Brown

2026-03-14T12:08:00.154-04:00

Strong Women Feel Deeply: Emotional Intelligence as Leadership

This essay is part of the Grounded Women series from Embracing Me by Stacie J. Whitaker-Harris. Please share with attribution. Reproduction without permission is not permitted.

Strength is often misunderstood.

For generations, women, especially Black women, have been taught that strength means endurance without expression. Keep moving. Keep performing. Keep holding everything together. Do not pause long enough for anyone to acknowledge the weight you carry, but emotional leadership tells a different story.

Emotional leadership asks us not only to persevere, but to feel, reflect, and speak truthfully about what it means to be human.

This week in the Grounded Women series, we explore mental and emotional leadership through the lives and work of two women who have reshaped the conversation around vulnerability and courage: Taraji P. Henson and Brené Brown.

I chose these two women intentionally because their work reflects something I believe deeply: healing, leadership, and wholeness require honesty about the human experience.

Each in her own way embodies an approach to total-body wellness that honors lived experience and vulnerability with purpose. They understand that not everyone will lean into the work of self-healing, and not everyone will be ready to hear the message.

Yet they continue to stand tall and speak anyway, giving voice to those who often go unseen or unheard: the lost, the least, the lonely, and the left out.

Where Their Work Intersects

At first glance, Taraji and Brené live in different worlds: Hollywood and academia; art and data; story and study.

They meet in the same sacred place, and they both insist that what we bury does not disappear.

It shows up.

In our bodies.

In our relationships.

In our parenting.

In our leadership.

In our ability to rest.

In our capacity to stay soft without breaking.

Taraji gives language to survival, the kind shaped by culture, responsibility, and real-life consequences.

Brené gives language to inner freedom, the kind that comes when shame loses its grip and courage becomes a practice.

Different lanes. Same destination: wholeness.

Taraji says: "This is what it feels like."

Brené says: "This is what's happening inside you, and this is how you heal without shame."

Taraji P. Henson: Storytelling That Tells The Truth

Taraji P. Henson is widely recognized as a talented actress, but her impact stretches far beyond the screen.

What makes her leadership powerful is not simply her success; it is her willingness to use her voice to confront difficult truths about mental health, trauma, and emotional survival.

Throughout her career, Henson has portrayed characters who reflect the complicated emotional realities many families live with but rarely discuss openly.

Two roles in particular stand out as cultural mirrors.

In Baby Boy, Henson portrayed Yvette, a young woman working through love, motherhood, and instability within a relationship shaped by immaturity, trauma, and economic pressure. The film did not shy away from the emotional tensions that arise when adulthood arrives before emotional readiness.

It showed the strain placed on women who often find themselves carrying responsibility for relationships, children, and stability while partners wrestle with unresolved pain of their own.

Years later, Henson would take on the now-iconic role of Cookie Lyon in Empire.

Cookie is bold, complex, fierce, and deeply human. Her character enters the story after years of incarceration, attempting to rebuild a life and reconnect with a family fractured by ambition, secrets, addiction, trauma, and betrayal.

Beneath the glamour and power struggles of the Lyon family lies something far more familiar: family wounds that were never fully addressed.

Cookie Lyon was not a perfect character. She was protective and fierce. Sometimes wounded. Sometimes wise. Sometimes reacting from pain. That is exactly why she resonated with so many viewers.

She represented the emotional complexity of women who are constantly rebuilding. Women who have experienced loss, made difficult decisions, and still find the strength to show up for their families.

When the Performance Ends

What makes Taraji's leadership especially meaningful is that she did not leave these conversations confined to fictional characters.

She brought them into real life.

In 2018, she founded the Boris Lawrence Henson Foundation, named after her father with a focus on breaking stigma and increasing access to culturally competent mental health support, particularly within the Black community.

Her message is simple but powerful: Healing cannot happen in silence.

When public figures speak openly about mental health, they disrupt long-standing cultural narratives that equate vulnerability with weakness. They give voice to people who have been struggling quietly, and remind us that emotional pain does not evaporate simply because we refuse to name it. Taraji teaches this kind of emotional leadership from the ground level: not theory, but lived truth.

Brené Brown: Research That Gives People Permission to Be Human

If Taraji's work shows us what pain looks like in real life, Brené Brown's work helps explain what pain does inside us and what it takes to move through it.

Brené is a researcher and storyteller who has spent decades studying courage, vulnerability, shame, and empathy, translating that research into language people can actually use in real life. She is also the host of the podcasts Unlocking Us and Dare to Lead, where the goal is not performance, but honest conversation.

More recently, she was named Executive Chair of the Daring Leadership Institute at BetterUp, but the most important thing about Brené is not her resume. It is her bottom line:

You do not get to courage by going around vulnerability. You only get there by walking through it.

That message matters for women who have been taught to bypass emotion in the name of "being strong," but especially Black women, who for too long have held the title and role as "The strong Black woman." And, especially when "strong" has meant:

Do not need anything.
Do not say anything.

Do not feel too much.

Do not fall apart.

In The Gifts of Imperfection, Brown pushes against that performance-based living and points people toward wholeheartedness...showing up as you are, not as who you think you are supposed to be.

The Balance Between Them

This is where their work locks arms.

Taraji exposes the cost of emotional suppression, especially for Black women carrying family systems, community expectations, and generational pain.

Brené provides a framework for what it looks like to stop performing strength and start practicing courage.

Taraji says: "This is what it feels like."

Brené says: "This is what is happening inside you, and this is how you heal without shame."

Taraji normalizes therapy and culturally competent care as a justice issue: access, stigma, and survival.

Brené normalizes vulnerability as a leadership issue: trust, connection, emotional agility, and braver cultures.

Different tools. Same mission.

Where I Enter the Story

Their work also intersects with my own because my story sits inside a family history of generational trauma. The kind that taught women to keep going no matter what, until the body eventually collected the debt. In my family, burnout did not just mean exhaustion.

It showed up as physical breakdown.

As illness.

As women carrying too much for too long.

As early death.

As a quiet pattern no one wanted to name because naming it would force us to grieve it.

When you come from that kind of lineage, you can start to confuse suffering with inheritance.

You can start to believe you are "doing life right" as long as you are depleted.

But I am working to heal and set a new precedent in my family.

Not just by achieving.

Not just by producing, but by practicing emotional honesty.

By learning to rest without guilt.

By getting brave enough to feel what I used to outrun.

By choosing support instead of silence.

By letting healing become the legacy.

Taraji and Brené help me name what I am doing.

Taraji reminds me that silence is not strength.

Brené reminds me that vulnerability is not weakness. It is the doorway.

Every time I choose to tell the truth about what I feel before my body has to scream it, I am breaking a cycle.

What I Want Readers to Learn About Themselves

This March series is not simply "look at these incredible women." It is an invitation. I want readers, especially women, to see themselves and ask:

Where have I confused emotional suppression with strength?
What have I been powering through that deserves compassion, not criticism?
What part of me is begging to be acknowledged: not fixed, not rushed, just seen?
What would change if I stopped performing wellness and started practicing it?
If my body could talk, what would it say about how I have been living?

Leadership is not only about how you show up for others. It is how you show up for yourself when nobody is clapping, when nobody is watching, when the old version of you would rather numb out than tell the truth.

Taraji and Brené remind us:

Strong women do not feel less.

Strong women feel deeply and lead honestly anyway.

Closing Reflection

Some of us were raised to be resilient, but resilience without release becomes a cage. This week, Taraji teaches us to speak what we survived. Brené teaches us to release the shame that keeps survival stuck in our bodies.

I am learning that healing is not a single breakthrough. It is a series of brave choices.

Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is admit you are tired.

Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is ask for help.

Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is stop "proving" you are okay, because grounded is not about having it all together. It's about being rooted enough to be real.

Next Week in the Grounded Women Series

Next week, the series turns toward spiritual leadership and the women whose faith, conviction, and inner grounding changed how we understand purpose, resilience, and calling.

Thoughtfully Yours,

Stacie J.

Embracing Me is becoming an archive as I transition into a new writing space. Join me on Substack for continued reflections and new work:
https://substack.com/@staciejwrites

Grounded Women Series — Week 1: Florence Griffith Joyner

2026-03-06T18:40:00.063-05:00

Speed, Style, and Sovereignty: Lessons Flo-Jo Left for Women Who Lead

This essay is part of the Grounded Women series from Embracing Me by Stacie J. Whitaker-Harris. Please share with attribution. Reproduction without permission is not permitted.

Grounded Women is a reflection on leadership through the lives of women whose courage, discipline, and lived wisdom continue to shape how we move through the world.

There are women whose lives move beyond accomplishment and become a kind of language. A language of courage. Of discipline. Of presence. Florence Griffith Joyner, known to the world as Flo-Jo, was one of those women.

When people remember Flo-Jo, they often remember the spectacle first: the vibrant racing suits, the six-inch fingernails, the jewelry flashing under stadium lights, hair flowing freely as she exploded down the track. She refused the narrow expectation that strength must look plain, quiet, or restrained. She demonstrated that power and beauty were not opposites. They could move together quickly, unapologetically, and radiantly.

Beneath the style was something deeper: discipline and determination.

Flo-Jo's path was not smooth. She experienced financial hardship during her college years, leaving school briefly before returning and ultimately completing her degree in psychology. She trained relentlessly, competing at the collegiate level and steadily building the foundation that would later carry her onto the global stage.

By the late 1980s, she had become one of the fastest women the world had ever seen. Her performances at the 1988 Seoul Olympics stunned audiences as she captured multiple medals and set records in the 100- and 200-meter races: records that, decades later, still stand.

And yet, as is often the case when Black women rise to extraordinary heights, her brilliance was met not only with applause but with suspicion. Rumors and speculation followed her success. Despite repeated testing and constant scrutiny, nothing ever proved the accusations against her. She continued to stand in her excellence.

Flo-Jo's story reminds us that leadership, especially for women, is rarely confined to titles. Sometimes leadership is simply the decision to run your race fully, visibly, and without apology, even when the world questions your right to be there.

The Body as a Vessel of Purpose

Physical leadership is often overlooked in conversations about influence and legacy. We talk about intellect, strategy, and vision, but the body, the vehicle through which we move through the world, is rarely honored as part of leadership.

Flo-Jo understood something profound: the body is not merely an instrument of performance; it is an expression of identity and sovereignty.

She ran with power, but she also ran with presence. Her style declared that women did not need to shrink themselves in order to be taken seriously. She showed that discipline could coexist with creativity, and that strength could carry elegance.

For many women, reclaiming the body is its own form of leadership.

I understand this lesson in a personal way.

More than fifteen years ago, running was a regular part of my life. It was where I found clarity, release, and strength. However, after an injury, running disappeared from my routine. For a long time, it felt like something I had lost.

Three years ago, I began the slow process of returning to movement.

At first, it was humbling. Walking a single mile took nearly an hour. My body moved cautiously, reminding me that healing requires patience. Step by step, the rhythm returned.

What once took forty-five or sixty minutes slowly shortened. The walk became a jog. The jog became a run.

Today I run consistently again, usually at a pace somewhere between 11:47 and 13 minutes per mile.

That pace will never compete with Olympic records, and it doesn't need to because every woman has her own pace.

Every Woman Has A Pace

One of the quiet lessons in Flo-Jo's legacy is that greatness does not look identical for everyone. Yes, she ran faster than nearly anyone in history, but the deeper lesson is not about speed. It's about commitment to the race that belongs to you.

Some women sprint. Some rebuild.

Some begin again after injury, loss, motherhood, illness, or years of caring for others before themselves.

Some are learning how to walk their mile for the very first time.

All of these are forms of leadership.

In a world that constantly pressures women to compare themselves or measure their lives against impossible standards, Flo-Jo reminds us that sovereignty means honoring the path we are actually on.

Your pace is not a failure of speed.

Your pace is a reflection of your journey.

Legacy Beyond The Track

After her Olympic triumphs, Flo-Jo remained deeply connected to the world of athletics and youth development. She promoted physical fitness nationwide and helped establish programs supporting children and communities in need.

Her influence extended beyond medals and records into the lives of those she inspired. Even after her untimely passing at the age of thirty-eight, her impact continues.

The records remain.
The images remain.
The courage remains.

Perhaps her greatest legacy is the permission she gave women to be powerful without shrinking. To be visible without apology, and to move through the world in a way that honors both strength and self-expression.

Running Our Own Race

This month's series explores leadership in its many forms: physical, emotional, spiritual, intellectual, and financial. It begins here with the body, because the body is often where courage first appears. The decision to move again. To try again. To step back into our own rhythm.

Flo-Jo ran faster than the world thought possible. Most of us will never match her speed, but we can match her sovereignty.

We can move through life with discipline, grace, and confidence in the pace that belongs to us. And that, too, is a powerful form of leadership.

If you are reading this today, I invite you to pause for a moment and ask yourself:

What race am I running right now?

What pace honors where I am in this season of my life?

Whatever the answer is, walk it, run it, reclaim it, because leadership does not begin at the finish line. It begins the moment a woman decides to move forward again.

Next week, the series turns from physical leadership to emotional leadership. We will reflect on women whose courage has reshaped how we understand vulnerability, resilience, and the strength it takes to face our inner lives with honesty. Their stories remind us that leadership is not only about how we move through the world, but how we learn to understand ourselves.

Thoughtfully Yours,

Stacie J.

Embracing Me is becoming an archive as I transition into a new writing space. Join me on Substack for continued reflections and new work: https://substack.com/@staciejwrites

March Series Introduction

2026-03-04T10:43:00.002-05:00

Grounded Women: Leadership, Legacy, & Lived Wisdom

March is often framed as Women's History Month: a time to celebrate achievements, recount milestones, and spotlight trailblazers.

This year, however, I want to ask a different question: What does grounded leadership actually look like in the lives of women who live it?

This series is not simply about women who made headlines. It is about women whose leadership has shaped how I understand discipline, courage, faith, intellect, and the transformation of lived experiences into wisdom.

Women who moved through the world with sovereignty.

Women who felt deeply.

Women who led without performance.

Women who built brilliance without losing themselves.

Grounded Women is a four-week exploration of leadership in its fullest expression: physical, mental, spiritual, intellectual, and financial. Each week, we will reflect on a woman (or women) whose life offers lessons that transcend biography. We will look at legacy not as fame, but as alignment. Not as applause, but as integrity.

Across the month, these reflections will build on one another, inviting us to think more deeply about what grounded leadership requires of us in our own lives. If this reflection resonates with you, I invite you to follow along throughout the month and join the conversation as the series unfolds.

To guide these reflections, I will also draw from a framework I use to understand grounded leadership. It considers how women cultivate alignment across body, mind, spirit, lived experience, and material stewardship. These dimensions remind us that leadership is not a single trait or moment of visibility, but a practice of integration. This series is also personal. Leadership is not simply a title; it is a way of inhabiting one's body, mind, spirit, and voice.

Throughout this month, I will weave reflection, lived experience, and conversation as we explore women whose lives illuminate leadership. I invite you not just to read, but to pause.

Consider your own leadership. Ask yourself:

What am I building?
What am I modeling?
What will remain when the noise fades?

March is not just about honoring women of the past. It is also about honoring those who still live and giving them their flowers by acknowledging their contributions while they are here to receive them.

It is about grounding ourselves in the women we are while honoring women who have shaped us. It's about the unfolding, returning to who we were designed to be and stripping away the noise along the way.

Let's begin.

Thoughtfully,

Stacie J.

Embracing Me is becoming an archive as I transition into a new writing space. Join me on Substack for continued reflections and new work: https://substack.com/@staciejwrites

Grief Can Dance Too

2026-02-12T23:16:00.004-05:00

The Space Where Love Still Lives

Today would have been my mother's 72nd birthday, and I find myself sitting in the quiet space where memory and reality meet. Today also marks one week since my oldest brother passed away and joined her on the other side of eternity. A week that feels both impossibly long and impossibly short.

Time has moved in strange ways, stretching and folding in on itself as grief often does. In my heart, I imagine them line dancing together: free, whole, and filled with laughter. I also hold my father close today, gone more than forty years, but never absent from the story of who I've become.

Love does not end. It dances across generations.
They are not gone. They are gathered.

Grief and gratitude sit side by side in me, reminding me that love never truly leaves; it simply changes form. There are moments when the weight of loss feels heavy, and others when joy rises unexpectedly through a memory, a song, or a simple breath. I'm learning that multiple truths can live in the same heart at once: sorrow and peace, longing and acceptance, tears and quiet smiles.

If you are grieving too, know that there is no single way to carry it. Give yourself permission to remember gently, pause when needed, and honor both the ache and the beauty that love leaves behind.

And in the middle of this sacred, tender space, something else quietly happened: this blog crossed 100,000 views.

One hundred thousand.

Eighty-five countries around the world have now paused here. South Korea joined the community this week, bringing the total to 411 regions and territories represented. That reality humbles me more than I can put into words. What began as a small, honest space to process love, loss, and life has reached hearts across oceans and time zones.

Today, I'm simply grateful for the quiet strength that meets me each day, for the steady presence of God, and for the people who hold space when words fall short. And on a day that holds my mother's 72nd birthday, one week without my brother, and decades without my father, I am reminded that even in grief, life continues to ripple outward. Love expands. Connection multiplies. What feels deeply personal somehow becomes shared.

Thank you for being here. Wherever "here" is for you in the world.

Wherever you find yourself on your own journey, may you feel supported enough to breathe, reflect, and keep moving forward at your own pace. Love endures, even here, especially here.

With love, gratitude, and quiet courage,

Stacie J.

11:47 - My Heart Stood Still

2026-02-08T07:42:00.030-05:00

Honoring My Best Friend

February 5, 2026, just before noon, my oldest brother transitioned from this life to the eternal arms of the Most High God.

He Was My First Friend

I find myself remembering the oddest things. Like him pushing me down the hill on the Big Wheel. Or making me give it up so our younger siblings could ride. I remember when he and my younger brother went racing down the hill in Mount Winans, near Grandma Mayme and Grandpa Martin's house, and crashed my Big Wheel. I cried so hard and beat on his back. I got in trouble for being violent, but I was sure I was right because he had promised not to destroy my Big Wheel.

I remember us making igloos during winter storms when we lived in Westport. He hid in one, and I couldn't find him. Because he wasn't just my big brother but my first real friend, you guessed it, I cried, convinced the snow had eaten him.

I remember him taking me to the bus at the top of the hill, not a school bus, but the one converted into a grocery store run by a man named Mr. Doc. We loved him because sometimes we'd buy ten pieces of penny candy and he'd throw in a few extras, or slip some penny cookies into our bag.

The Boy Who Took Care of Us

My brother was responsible (sort of) at a young age. He knew how to pay bills, buy groceries, and take my siblings and me to school. He had to. My mother worked, and my father had already passed away.

Our Games, Our Music, Our Joy

I loved playing basketball with him, honestly, any sport. He loved having me on his team because, well, I was something of a superstar athlete. I was shorter than he and his friends, but I had a mean arm. I could throw a football and pitch a wicked curveball. He was athletic too: tall, always pretending he could dunk (he couldn't), but I cheered him on anyway.

We loved singing together and yes, he really could sing. Then he got into rap and tried to get my siblings and me involved. His early rap name was Special Ed at one point. I think he also had a DJ name. My younger brother was Brainy B, my middle sister was Special K and my baby sister was MC Nae. I think I was Puddie-E. Those were fun times.

Me and my brother used to win all the dance contests and the Avon bags that went along with them.

We played WWE SmackDown, dressed up like superheroes, hung from things, jumped on and off dressers and trees, built nunchucks from scratch, shared skates, and rode down hills with one foot each in a skate, holding hands and hoping for the best.

The Man He Became

My brother was a pride-filled man. He loved dressing nicely and doted on his siblings with new shoes and sweats when he could. He worked three jobs in high school so he could "stunt," yes, but also so he wouldn't be a burden to my mother. He saw how stressed she was and wanted to help.

He was a knucklehead and a jokester who loved his family ferociously and would go to war for us. He loved business and entrepreneurship and loved learning, but just not in school settings (school was my job).

He made me an aunt with my first nephew, who looks just like him.

He was stubborn as hell, which is part of why, in my opinion, he left this life far too soon. We didn't know he was sick, seriously sick, until it was too late.

He Cheered Me On

He cheered me on at every stage of my life: through being a teenage mother, going to college, writing my books, and, most recently, running my first marathon. In fact, I FaceTimed him the day I finished my first race of the new year: She Power. I told him how I improved my pace by nearly three minutes per mile and finished sixteen minutes faster than last year. He was so proud and even, through his pain and discomfort, he cheered me on.

He carried my mother's smile and her hearty laughter, which still makes me smile, and I'd say he carried my father's adventurous spirit too.

I miss him already.

If he were reading this, he'd probably laugh, shake his head, and tell me I was being extra and then hug me anyway. He loved my corny jokes, laughed at them, poked fun at me, and somehow still let me keep telling them. That feels important to remember.

I don't have anything profound to say to close this. I just know that my big brother...my first friend mattered. I don't need closure right now. I just need space to remember, to laugh, to grieve, and to keep going.

Today, I miss him. Tomorrow, I'll probably miss him differently. For now, this is enough.

With tears and a heart of gratitude because I've learned multiple things can be true at the same time.

Stacie J.

From Spirit to Mind to Body:

2026-02-04T15:40:00.001-05:00

A Thank You Across Borders

This week, I paused again in awe.

The Embracing Me blog has now reached 84 countries and territories worldwide, with over 97,712 lifetime views. In the last seven days alone, readers from Guatemala, Honduras, and Panama have joined this growing global community.

To each of you: thank you.

Thank you for reading.

Thank you for staying.

Thank you for seeing yourselves somewhere in these words.

As I sit with this moment, just shy of 100,000 views, I find myself reflecting not on numbers, but on movement: internal movement, spiritual movement, human movement across time and seasons.

The Journey From Spirit to Mind to Body

When I began writing nearly 20 years ago, I was a wounded woman trying to survive by naming my pain. My words were raw, searching, and often heavy with questions I didn't yet know how to hold. I leaned deeply into spirit, sometimes over spiritualizing, because faith felt like the safest place to land when life felt unsteady.

Over time, something shifted.

Without realizing it, my writing began to move from spirit to mind. I started examining belief systems, patterns, trauma, leadership, and meaning. I questioned what I had been taught, what I had inherited, and what no longer fit. Writing became a space of unlearning and relearning. Where faith and reason met, and where reflection became a form of healing.

And then, more recently, another shift emerged.

The body entered the conversation.

Rest. Recovery. Breath. Nervous systems. Movement. Boundaries. Wellness.
The truth that healing does not live only in prayer or thought, but in how we inhabit ourselves fully—physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

Looking back now, I see that this evolution of spirit, mind, and body was never accidental. It mirrors the human journey. It mirrors our journey.

Embracing Me was never meant to be a story about me alone. These words were always about people across cultures, continents, and experiences—finding permission to see themselves fully. To remove the mask. To honor their stories. To reconnect with who God created them to be, not who the world demanded they perform as.

A Space to Belong, Reflect, and Grow

If you are new here, welcome.
If you've been reading quietly for years, thank you for trusting this space.

If something you read helped you name a feeling, shift a perspective, or take one step toward wholeness, then this work is doing what it was always meant to do.

And if a post stirred discomfort, challenged a belief, or touched a tender place, know this: you still belong here. Discomfort is not a sign of exclusion, nor a reason to turn away. Often, it is an invitation to pause, to reflect, and to examine what is being revealed. Growth rarely arrives wrapped in ease, but it does arrive with intention.

As this community continues to grow, I remain grounded in the same intention that guided the first words I ever wrote: truth, compassion, reflection, and faith expressed through a lived, embodied life.

I invite you to stay connected. You can follow the Embracing Me blog and be among the first to receive new posts as they are released.

And if someone comes to mind as you read, consider inviting them to join you here. This work is meant to be shared, not rushed, and not walked alone.

Becoming who we were designed to be is sacred work. And every step toward wholeness creates space for others to do the same. None of us grows alone.

From my heart to yours, across borders and beyond numbers: thank you for being part of the Embracing Me journey.

With love and gratitude,

Stacie J

She Powered Through & Then She Recovered

2026-01-30T07:07:00.013-05:00

Why recovery is not a reward, but a requirement

If She Powered Through was about honoring endurance, this chapter is about celebrating what comes after: recovery as a strategic practice for performance, resilience, and wellness. Crossing the finish line of the She Power race was powerful, but what followed taught me even more about intentional living.

"Crossing the finish line, fully present and proud."

I ran my fastest 10K, rode the runner's high straight into work, and felt proud, grounded, and accomplished. Planning ahead, I had taken Monday off: a strategic choice that allowed me to recover, reset, and prevent burnout. By Tuesday, I was back at work: moving slower, yes, but still clear-headed, balanced, and fully present. I even offered to come in on my day off, Wednesday, to finish some things, only to wake up and hear my body say, "Not today."

I honored it. Recovery first, so I could continue to show up as my best self.

Recovery as Leadership: Bridge Wellness Center

During the race, I met the owners of Bridge Wellness Center, Drs. Matt and Tiffany. They invited me to experience their space, so I did, and from the moment I arrived, it was clear this is a place built with intention, care, and respect for the whole person: mind, body, and spirit.

After changing into my bathing suit (the changing facilities are thoughtful and welcoming), I began with red light therapy, a gentle yet increasingly researched modality used to support recovery, performance, and overall wellness.

Some of the commonly cited benefits include:

Muscle Recovery & Pain Support

Supports muscle recovery and tissue repair
Helps reduce inflammation and joint stiffness
Stimulates cellular energy (which may accelerate healing)
May reduce pain by supporting the body's natural inflammatory response

Skin Health

Helps calm irritated skin
Supports wound healing and tissue repair
Stimulates collagen and elastin production
Improves circulation, which may enhance tone and texture

Nervous System & Whole-Body Support

Encourages relaxation of the nervous system
May support mood regulation and stress reduction
Emerging research suggests potential benefits for sleep quality and mental well-being

What stood out to me most wasn't just the list of benefits, but how restorative and grounding the experience felt. This wasn't indulgence; it was an intentional recovery, allowing the body to do what it's designed to do.

These are just some of the potential benefits, as research in this area continues to evolve.

Gentle Disclaimer: As with any wellness practice, individual experiences may vary. I encourage readers to conduct their own research and consult a healthcare provider to determine what is appropriate and safe for their personal health needs.

"Trying compression boots at the She Power Race. Intentional recovery in action."

Next came the sauna. The goal: 15 minutes. Around minute five, I felt the discomfort and briefly questioned myself, but I stayed. Leaning into that discomfort was a small exercise in resilience, mindfulness, and self-trust; practices that carry over far beyond the sauna.

After the sauna, I moved to the hot tub for another 10-15 minutes, allowing my nervous system to calm, muscles to relax, and mind to reset.

Finally, I approached the moment I had been mentally preparing for: the cold plunge.

Power in Presence: The Cold Plunge

The cold plunge is where discomfort meets mastery. I took a breath, squatted, settled in, and stayed five full minutes. I was present, breathing through the intensity, and trusting my body's capacity to recover. That moment perfectly summed up this entire experience: intentional recovery is a practice in discernment: choosing when to advance, when to pause, and how to maintain strength for the journey ahead.

"Trusting the process, embracing discomfort, and finding presence."

Finishing strong, in the race and in the cold plunge, is not about ego; it's about strategy, presence, and self-respect.

Lessons for Leadership, Wellness, and Life

Recovery is not a reward for finishing the work; it is the discipline and the requirement that allows us to continue with sustainable strength. In leadership, wellness, and life, the ability to pause with intention is not weakness; it's wisdom. Whether on the racecourse, in leadership, or in life, how we recover often determines how long and how well we live AND lead.

I powered through the race. I recovered with equal intention. And, in doing so, I continue discovering what it means to show up fully; globally, consistently, and whole. It's less about performing and more about embodying presence, humility, and intention in everything I do.

I'd love to hear from you:

Where have you learned the power of pausing, restoring, or listening to your body to keep going?
What has resilience looked like for you in this season?

Resiliently,

Stacie J.

She Powered Through

2026-01-26T09:39:00.000-05:00

She Power Race Recap

Let's Celebrate

There are moments worth pausing to honor, not because everything went perfectly, but because we showed up with intention, grace, and courage. This is one of those moments.

The She Power race wasn't just about miles, minutes, or medals. It was about listening, trusting, pacing, community, healing, encouragement, and the quiet power of continuing even when the path leading up to the starting line wasn't smooth.

And truthfully? The story began long before race morning.

Preparing for She Power: Honoring the Pause

The two weeks leading up to this race were anything but ideal.

Workouts were inconsistent.

Walks were off rhythm.

Runs felt forced, shortened, or skipped altogether.

Sinus pressure lingered, heavy in my head and body, reminding me daily that strength doesn't always show up as speed or stamina.

So instead of pushing through just to say I did, I paused.

I rested.

I listened.

I chose care over guilt.

Because sometimes the most disciplined thing we can do is stop long enough to heal mind, body, and spirit without attaching shame to the pause.

Powering through doesn't always look like grinding nonstop. Sometimes it looks like joy after a long workday. Laughter that shakes loose stress. Boundaries without apology. Trusting God with what we can't control. Showing up anyway: not perfect, not fully healed, but present and willing.

If you've had a disrupted rhythm, a rough season, or a body that needed grace instead of pressure, this run was for you too.

We were still strong.

We were still called.

And we honored the pause before the push.

The Night Before: Race Eve Rituals & Restless Energy

Saturday night, I fully expected to sleep straight through until my alarm. I had family visiting, playtime, and I was deeply tired. Surely rest would come easily.

Nope.

I lay down early and didn't drift off until after 11 p.m., knowing full well my alarm would ring around 5 a.m. I slept deeply until 2:30 a.m., then I was wide awake.

Not because I wasn't tired, but because this always happens before a race. That familiar feeling. Like the night before the first day of school. A new job. Stepping onto a stage. Wedding jitters.

I don't fully know how to name it, but I know this: I rarely get a full night's rest before a race.

So I stayed still.

I prayed.

I played Mahjong.

I checked in with family that was headed to the airport.

Eventually, I eased out of bed and began preparing:

A leftover slice of pizza for fuel (because balance 😁)
Post-race snacks
My pre-race drink with vitamin B
An early departure to pick up my race packet

The drive was peaceful. Almost too peaceful. My sinuses and post-nasal drip were still trying to make themselves known. I thought about pace. About last year. About this year.

And seriously, what is it about race day that makes you need to pee every ten minutes? I went to the restroom three times before the race even started.

I laced up my favorite racing shoes, my Sauconys (game changers, truly). And as I stood there, a familiar truth settled in:

I'm not here to compete against other women.

I am here to compete against myself.

Long Before the Starting Line: This Journey Didn't Start in 2025

Although I officially joined races last year, I've been walking and trotting my way through this wellness journey consistently for three to five years.

I've watched my waistline shrink.

I've released more than 45 pounds.

And I'm no longer pressed about the number on the scale.

Especially after learning what so many women experience during the change, or should I say, the changes.

Pre-pause was rough.

Perimenopause was worse.

Post-menopause? A beast compared to both, until I learned how to support my body, balance my hormones, and listen instead of punishing.

To the women reading this:

You are beautiful, no matter your size or shape.

To the men:

Please be kind to the women in your lives. These body shifts are real: brain fog, mood swings, restless nights, skin changes, hair thinning, cravings that make no sense, and that's not even the full list.

We judge ourselves enough already.

Support matters.

Sunrise Sisterhood: Women at the Corner

At 6:30 a.m., in the cool quiet before the sun rose, I met a small group of women on the corner. All of us were headed toward the same place, even if our journeys looked different.

One was a vendor who warmly invited me to find the compression booth after the race. Another was a runner. Then Jill, Valerie, Ruth (I think), and Samantha joined.

Strangers, and yet, not strangers at all.

We talked about life. About stress, hormonal shifts, injuries, aging, and bodies changing in ways no one fully prepares us for.

One woman shared she was grateful to meet me, and admitted she felt a little jealous that I could run, because a herniated disc meant she could only walk.

There was no comparison.

No pity.

Just mutual respect.

We laughed together in the cool morning air, swapping stories and encouragement, holding space for one another before the world fully woke up.

Women witnessing women.

That, too, was powering through.

The Race: Mile 4.65 & Gentle Push Forward

By the time I reached the starting area, nerves had arrived right on cue. Fingers still tingling. A low hum of anticipation running through my body.

Still, I reminded myself:

I wasn't racing against anyone else.

I was honoring my own body.

My own timeline.

My own becoming.

Around mile 4.65, (yes, I clocked it), my left shoulder began to ache. My right knee followed. My pace slowed.

Instead of panicking, I checked in gently (with myself of course):

"Come on, Stacie. Let's keep going. We got this."

I found rhythm alongside two other runners, and we encouraged one another quietly, steadily.

No rushing.

No forcing.

Just presence.

That invisible barrier I've written about before showed up again, not to stop me, but to be noticed, assessed, and moved through.

She didn't power through by ignoring her body.

She powered through by trusting it.

The Finish Line: Proof, Tears, and Chocolate Cake

When it was over—when I crossed that finish line, something beautiful happened.

A young woman I had checked on during the race found me. She told me that if it hadn't been for my encouragement, she wouldn't have finished. She introduced me to her family. We took pictures together.

And, I cried.

Because this race wasn't just about time.

Though yes, I finished 16 minutes and 13 seconds faster than this same race last year.

It was about proof:

Proof that I am safe in my body
Proof that I can pace myself and still finish strong
Proof that power doesn't always look like pushing
Proof that presence matters

Later, there was water. Oranges. And then, unexpectedly, the most amazing chocolate cake.

And listen...that cake was everything. Sometimes joy shows up exactly where you need it.

I also tried post-race leg and foot compression for the first time. At first it felt strange, but afterward? My legs felt grateful, supported, and cared for.

Another reminder:

Recovery is part of the work.

Familiar Rhythms & the Drive Home

This race was hosted by 131 Events, and I realized I've run most of my races with them since last year. There's something comforting about familiar organizers, familiar rhythms, and familiar excellence.

And then there was the drive home.

Salt stains streaked my face from sweat and tears.

My body was tired, but strong.

My spirit was overwhelmed in the best way.

I sat with the emotion instead of rushing past it.

Because again, this wasn't just a race.

It was community.

It was witnessing.

It was pacing.

It was encouragement given and received.

It was learning, again, that power doesn't always roar.

Sometimes, she laughs on a street corner at sunrise.

Sometimes, she walks when she can't run.

Sometimes, she pauses at mile 4.65 and keeps going anyway.

She powered through.

Not alone.

Not by force.

But together, with wisdom, grace, and heart.

2026 vs. 2025: The Numbers Tell the Story

When I finally sat down and looked at my Apple Watch data, I had one of those quiet, grounding realizations:

This wasn’t just “a little faster.” 

This was real, measurable growth.

Overall Time

• 2025: 1:38:58

• 2026: 1:22:45

⏬16 minutes and 13 seconds faster on the same 10K course.

Not a shortcut. 

Not perfect conditions. 

Not a fluke.

Just a body that has learned how to show up differently.

Pace Breakdown: Mile by Mile

Mile 1

2025: 15:23
2026: 12:30
⏬2.53 faster

Cautious became confident.

Mile 2

2025: 14:58
2026: 13:02
⏬1.56 faster

Effort increased, but so did control.

Mile 3

2025: 16:11
2026: 13:11
⏬3:00 faster

Fatigue gave way to steadiness.

Mile 4

2025: 16:11
2026: 13:49
⏬2:22 faster

Survival became rhythm.

Mile 5

2025: 15:18
2026: 13:28
⏬1:50 faster

Consistency replaced strain.

Mile 6

2025: 17:29
2026: 13:47
⏬ 3:42 faster

Where I slowed last year, I held strong this year.

Cadence & Effort: The Invisible Wins

Average Cadence 2025: 136
Average Cadence 2026: 154

That shift signals:

Better running efficiency
Less over-striding
More sustainable mechanics
Stronger pacing awareness

Last year: moderate effort.

This year: hard, but controlled.

Higher effort. Far better outcome.

The Takeaway

I didn't just run faster in 2026.

I removed the slow miles.

I trusted my body.

I stayed present when it got hard.

And that's what 16 minutes of progress really looks like.

She powered through.

Not by force.

But by faith, wisdom, and choice.

And yes, I would do it again.

Actually...I plan to do it again. 💛

With joy and gratitude,

Stacie J

The Invisible Barrier

2026-01-22T07:38:00.019-05:00

Throughout my life, I've heard people talk about the frustration of reaching a certain point only to be met with an invisible barrier that seemingly stops them in their tracks. A wall you didn't see coming. A resistance you can't quite explain.

I know that barrier well. I've met it more times than I care to count.

One example I rarely talk about is my educational journey. When I first began my associate's degree, I was met with health issues, marital challenges, and family struggles. The weight of it all felt relentless. Still, I pressed on and earned my Associate of Arts.

From there, I pursued my bachelor's degree, first in vocal performance, then later shifting gears to Community Studies and Civic Engagement (the long way to say Nonprofit Management). But not without almost quitting altogether.

Yes, you read that right.

I was only weeks away from applying for graduation when everything in my life began to unravel.

I was exhausted—spiritually, physically, mentally. I told several professors that I planned to quit because I simply had nothing left to give.

At the same time, my home was slipping into foreclosure. I felt exposed. Ashamed. Like a fraud who had somehow convinced everyone else I was holding it together.

But clearly, God had other plans.

Some of the most unsuspecting professors came alongside me. They sat with me. They listened. They didn't rush to fix anything. They simply stayed. And in their staying, they helped me find my footing again.

Together, we created a plan to finish strong when I no longer believed I could. I applied for incompletes in a few classes. I was still allowed to walk the stage during the Spring of 2008, but my degree would not be released until every requirement was fulfilled by the final deadline.

And I did it.

I finished.

I'm writing about this now because the world feels like it's on fire — and so does my own life. Once again, just as I am preparing to elevate, I'm being met with obstacle after obstacle. Challenge after challenge. That familiar resistance. That invisible barrier.

This brings me back to The Dream Giver by Dr. Bruce Wilkinson, a book I reread nearly every year. Each time, it reveals something new. It reminds me of how Ordinary was called to leave what was familiar. How family and friends tried to convince him to turn back. How giants rose up to stop him. And the moment that always stands out most to me is when Ordinary encounters the invisible wall of fear.

It wasn't something outside of him. It was within him. The barrier wasn't meant to destroy him — it was meant to be confronted. To be pushed through. To stretch him beyond comfort and into calling.

If I could offer a word of encouragement to my future self, or to anyone reading this, it would be this:

You have overcome invisible barriers before.

You did not break under the weight of the unknown. You rose. You healed. You grew stronger and wiser. What did you learn then that carried you to where you are now?

And if you must look back, do so only to remember how far you've come, not to return to old patterns, old thoughts, old people, or old places.

You are more than a conqueror.

You have a proven track record of doing hard things and of pressing forward when quitting felt easier.

So go ahead; do it again.

God is with you.

Faithfully,

Stacie J.

The Holy Trinity of Self-Care

2026-01-14T17:43:00.000-05:00

Why Mind, Body, and Spirit Are Essential for Sustainable Leadership and Wellbeing

The Arrival

2026 arrived not with chaos, but with a calm, catalyzing momentum, quietly preparing us for the presence and perception of what lies ahead. Like every New Year, it entered with loud celebrations: bangs, cheers, laughter, dancing, and hopeful hearts. And like so many Januaries before it, it also arrived carrying grief; a cluster of losses, familiar names now held in memory.

Honoring Love

Today, I pause to honor my loved ones, past and present. Thank you for living. For loving. For fighting. For caring, sharing, and building. Your lives mattered. Your imprint remains.

The Holy Trinity of Self-care

As I reflect, my thoughts turn to the Holy Trinity. Yes, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. And, also to what I've come to call the holy trinity of self-care: mind, body, and spirit.

This framing reminds me that care is not separate from faith; it is an expression of it.

As a health and wellness coach and a fierce advocate for whole-body wellness and policies that support it, I am continually reminded that we are not separate from the divine.

Scripture reminds us, "Don't you know that you yourselves are God's temple and that God's Spirit dwells in your midst?" (1 Corinthians 3:16).

Sustainable Leadership and Wellbeing

To be human is to carry both burden and beauty, along with the responsibility of stewardship, not perfection, but care. To care for our mental health, physical bodies, and spiritual alignment is not indulgent; it is sacred.

Sacred Work

Care. Intention. Reverence for the bodies and lives we inhabit. If we truly believe that God lives within us, then tending to our mental health, physical well-being, and spiritual alignment is not optional; it is sacred work.

Invitation

This year, I invite you to reconsider what self-care means for you. Not as a trend. Not as a luxury. But as an act of devotion to your calling, your community, and the life entrusted to you. Honor the temple. Tend the whole. And move forward with intention.

If this resonates, I'd love to continue the conversation through writing, coaching, and community.

With loving care,

Stacie J.

From Intention to Finish Line

2026-01-10T07:51:00.051-05:00

The Journey of Miles, Milestones, and Memories Part IV

One Decision I Did Not Quit

On November 16, 2025, I joined a small global community: the 1% who have completed a marathon.

I did not fully understand how powerful that moment would feel until I crossed the finish line.

I kept going. I finished. I became a marathoner.

This was not just a test of endurance. It was a living, breathing lesson in commitment, self-trust, and follow-through. Below is how my marathon unfolded, mile by mile, and what each stretch of pavement taught me.

My Pace

Mile 1: 13:13
Mile 2: 13:38
Mile 3: 13:24
Mile 4: 13:30
Mile 5: 13:20
Mile 6: 13:50
Mile 7: 16:15
Mile 8: 13:40
Mile 9: 14:46
Mile 10: 16:00
Mile 11: 15:09
Mile 12: 15:07
Mile 13: 15:37
Mile 14: 17:04
Mile 15: 21:30
Mile 16: 16:25
Mile 17: 18:03
Mile 18: 19:11
Mile 19: 18:18
Mile 20: 17:50
Mile 21: 17:36
Mile 22: 17:01
Mile 23: 17:31
Mile 24: 15:50
Mile 25: 16:21
Mile 26: 14:37

What the Marathon Taught Me

I paced the early miles with discipline, not ego.
I met the wall and climbed over it.
I stayed consistent when comfort disappeared.
I finished my final full mile faster than miles 14-23.
I completed my first marathon in 7:00:18, with an average pace of 16:03.
I started in Wave 7 at 7:24 AM and crossed the finish line at 2:34 PM: On time and on purpose.
Most importantly, I never quit on myself.

This was more than a race.

It was healing. It was discipline. It was my declaration that entering 50 would be intentional, grounded, and powerful.

The Moments I Didn't Expect

I stopped 3-4 times to use the restroom and released the need to rush.
I paused to check on other runners, offering encouragement, sharing Biofreeze, and teaching stretches.
I experienced painful cramps between miles 15-17 and chose wisdom over force.
I danced Miles 18 and 19 because joy carried me when muscles could not.
I climbed brutal hills between Miles 20-22 and did not stop. (Although I did question my decision-making skills and why I decided running a marathon was a good birthday gift idea).
I refilled my water bottles at every hydration station, and my running belt definitely mattered.

These moments slowed my pace, but they strengthened my purpose. They made my finish richer, deeper, and more aligned with who I am.

What Finishing Changed

This marathon was not about proving strength, winning, or being the fastest bunny on the trail (pun intended because we all know that story about the Tortoise and the Hare). It was about the honoring process. It was about listening to my body, trusting my preparation, and choosing perseverance again and again, long after the applause faded.

I finished what I started.
Not perfectly.
Not quickly.
But faithfully.

And here is what I know now:

You do not have to be fast to be faithful.
You do not have to be loud to be powerful.
You do not have to be fearless to finish, only willing.

Whatever race you are running: physical, emotional, spiritual, or generational, commit to seeing it through. Pace yourself. Rest when needed. Ask for help. Offer help. Choose joy when the miles feel long.

And when you reach your finish line, stand firmly in this truth:

You kept going.
You finished.
You honored your word to yourself.

This is The Journey of Miles, Milestones, and Memories.

And it is still unfolding.

With joy, resolve, and a finishing spirit,

Stacie J.

Mindset Shift

2026-01-07T05:21:00.001-05:00

Choosing to Challenge Myself

The Journey of Miles, Milestones, and Memories - Part III

A Golden Year Decision

Last year was my golden year. It was the year that I made radical decisions to meet this new season in my life with movement, courage, and curiosity rather than caution.

Setting An Intention Bigger Than Fear

So I set an intention for 2025 that felt both bold and improbable, and that was to tackle three 5Ks, two 10Ks, and one marathon, with more than a decade from any previous running. It was not about proving anything to anyone else. It was about listening to the part of me that wanted to see what was possible when I stopped negotiating with fear and started honoring my capacity to grow.

Training as Exploration, Not Punishment

I began training in the fall of 2024, not with rigid rules or punishment, but with exploration. Training became an invitation to move more, breathe deeper, and rebuild trust with my body. I registered for the She Power 10K in Chandler, Arizona, and suddenly the journey had a destination, but the real work was happening long before race day.

Finding Strength Through Variety and Community

I had joined ClassPass and said yes to new experiences: yoga, barre, Pilates, cycling, kickboxing, HIIT, boxing. Each class taught me something different, not just about strength or endurance, but about rhythm, recovery, and resilience. I found spaces that felt like home, like Urban Yoga, Jabz Kickboxing, CycleBar, and Title I Boxing with Mr. Frazier. These were places where community mattered as much as performance.

Learning to Adjust Without Quitting

On days when motivation faded, I adjusted rather than quit. I walked indoors while watching my K-dramas because sometimes outdoors felt unreasonable, especially on 100+ degree days. I tracked my movement in ways that felt encouraging, not obsessive. Closing my rings, meeting my steps, and showing up became quiet promises I kept to myself.

When the Shift Became Visible

Slowly, something shifted.

My pace improved. My confidence followed. What once took nearly an hour per mile began to settle into something steadier, something stronger. I ran when I could with the Black AZ Run Club, and even when I wasn't consistent, I was inspired, especially by women my age reclaiming their speed, their stamina, and their joy.

The She Power 10K: Testing the Edge

Then came January 26, 2025. The She Power 10K.

It was my first 10k EVER! I hadn't even completed an official 5K before, but something in me was ready to test the edge of what I believed I could do. The rules were clear: complete the first 5K in under 45 minutes to qualify to continue the full 10K. I started near the back of the pack, which meant I had to move with intention from the very beginning.

I jogged.

I walked with purpose.

I breathed through discomfort.

I listened to my body and kept going.

Witnessing Myself in Motion

This race was not about winning. It was about witnessing myself in motion; legs trembling, knee aching, spirit steady. It was about discovering that I could do hard things without rushing, without comparison, without abandoning myself in the process.

A Mindset Shift That Reaches Beyond the Road

This was a mindset shift. Not just in running, but in life.

The journey taught me that growth doesn't require perfection, only presence. That progress is often quiet. And that the most meaningful victories are the ones that change how you see yourself long after the finish line fades.

Still Becoming

This is the heart of Miles, Milestones, and Memories: learning to enjoy the journey, honor the body you're in, and trust that every step, no matter the pace, counts!

And, I'm still just getting started.

Mindfully,

Stacie J.

Eyes That See

2026-01-04T05:12:00.006-05:00

There is no denying it, the world feels loud right now.
Wars and rumors of wars. Political unrest and public unraveling.

Battles over land, power, resources, narratives.
Families divided. Communities strained. Fear fed daily, hourly, endlessly.

And, if this is all we see, exhaustion makes sense.

But for those with eyes that see, all is not as it appears.

Although the headlines shout conflict, monks continue to walk for peace. Mothers are still gathering in prayer. Fathers are still rising, quietly, steadily, into leadership and care. Strangers are still walking and running side by side, encouraging one another through breath, stride, and shared humanity.

Love still stands. Peace still walks. Kindness still wins.

These stories don't trend like the others. They don't incite outrage. They don't keep us scrolling. But they are no less real.

We are being asked daily to choose what we consume, what we amplify, and what we allow to shape our inner world.

Fear is loud, but it is not powerful on its own. It requires attention to survive.

Love, on the other hand, is quieter. Like honey, it draws without force. As flies are drawn more readily to sweetness than vinegar, so too are hearts drawn to compassion, humility, and truth spoken with care.

This is not a call to denial. It is a call to discernment. To look beyond the flames stoked for profit and control. To notice where peace is already at work.

To participate, not in panic, but in presence.

The call to action is simple, and yet profound:

See differently. Choose what you feed your spirit. Be a carrier of the very qualities you wish the world had more of. Because when enough of us decide to see, truly see, fear loses its grip.

And what remains is the quiet, unshakable truth: Even now, especially now, love is still at work in the world.

May you have eyes to see, and a heart open enough to change the narrative with love, despite the noise.

With gentleness and love,

Stacie J.

Before The Noise

2026-01-01T13:55:00.000-05:00

The quiet ripple of peace

Last night, I slept.

Peacefully, held by the distant thunder of fireworks and celebration. The sky spoke in bursts of color and sound, and at first, the dogs startled at every kaboom, their bodies tense with confusion. I drew them close, arms wrapping reassurance around their trembling frames. I whispered calm without words. Eventually, their breathing slowed. Mine did too. We slept.

When I woke at 3 a.m., the house was still; sacred in its silence. The dogs lay tangled together, somehow curled and sprawled all at once, bellies exposed, paws twitching in dreams. I smiled. I gave thanks for their peace and recognized the quiet truth resting there with us: my calm had become their calm. My rest, their rest. Peace is contagious when it's embodied.

I drifted back into sleep and woke again to morning light slipping softly through the cracks of the window; gentle, unannounced, patient. For a moment, instinct urged me to rise quickly, to move, to do. Then I remembered: how I begin matters.

So I stayed still.

One hand on my heart. One on my stomach. I checked in. I slowed my breath. I calmed my nervous system. I cleared the static of thought and gave thanks for this day, for their peace, for mine. I smiled toward heaven, grateful for being carried through 2025 and welcomed into 2026. Gratitude settled me into my body like an anchor.

Then I rose and stepped into the world.

My first run of the new year was unhurried and present. Each step met the earth with awareness. Each breath welcomed the air as if it were new. Scripture passed through my mind, not demanding attention, just offering companionship. I acknowledged it and kept moving.

When my thoughts tried to rush ahead to lists, responsibilities, and expectations, I gently redirected them.

We move with grace.
With calm.
With peace.
With ease.

All is well. All unfolds in divine timing. There is nothing to chase. There is only this moment to inhabit fully, this breath, this body, this now.

And that is how the year began.

Let your presence be the atmosphere you carry.
Let your peace lead your steps.
Let your beginning be shaped with intention, gratitude, and God.

Welcome to the first day of a new year!

With love,

Stacie J.

Held, Healed, Here

2025-12-31T22:01:00.004-05:00

The Year Unfolded

As 2025 comes to a close, I find myself pausing with gratitude and honesty.

This year was one of deep personal accomplishment, intentional rest, and steady endurance. I built strength mentally, physically, and spiritually. This was often done quietly without applause. I learned how to overcome new obstacles strategically, without rushing or forcing outcomes. I stretched myself beyond familiar edges, while also settling more fully into my softness.

There were moments of laughter that surprised me, smiles that came easily, and tears; some born from joy, others from release. Still, when I look back, 2025 feels like a year rooted in goodness.

I spent time reflecting on the experiences, lessons, and relationships that helped shape the woman I am today. Some things received a gentle nod of appreciation. Others I waved goodbye, especially the ones I no longer need to carry, like anger. Letting go felt less like loss and more like freedom.

I step into this next season bolder and more confident, no longer reliant on outside validation or constant stimulation. I've learned to enjoy my own company. To create simply because it brings me joy. To find fulfillment in the smallest, quietest moments.

As I look ahead to 2026, I expect exceptional experiences to unfold, and I welcome what's coming with grace and ease.

To you, dear readers, the ones who faithfully read, respond, and send words of encouragement, thank you for being a part of my journey. This year welcomed many new countries, and I look forward to continuing this journey with you in 2026.

Reflective invitation:

As you reflect on 2025, what did you learn about yourself this year?
What are you carrying forward into 2026?
What are you ready to release?

As the year turns, may you honor what carried you here, release what no longer serves you, and step forward with trust in your becoming.

Here's to 2026! Entered with intention, met with openness, and lived with grace.

With grace and peace,

Stacie J.

The Journey of Miles, Milestones, and Memories - Part II

2025-12-18T23:54:00.004-05:00

Grit Over Glamour: The Walk No One Applauds

Walking looks pretty right now, but it has not always been that way for me.

Even after a year of walking, trotting, and running, there are still days when I simply do not want to move. There are mornings when motivation feels distant, when my body feels heavy, or when life has taken more than I expected it to.

Doing something you do not feel like doing requires grit. It requires a commitment to yourself and a quiet determination that does not rely on applause, prizes, or public accountability.

It is easy to stay motivated when there is a clear goal at the end: a medal, a gift, a finish line, or when others are watching. But what about the days when no one is there to hold you accountable? What about the seasons of sickness, injury, grief, or unexpected life disruptions?

Those are the moments that test why we move at all.

When I struggle, I remind myself that my movement is not only for me. I am moving my body for the generations that came before me. For their sacrifices, their resilience, and their unfinished healing. And even more so, I move for those coming behind me.

Carrying the Lineage, One Step at a Time

I am the chosen generation.

Not chosen for perfection.
Not chosen for performance.

Chosen to set a standard. Not of excellence, but of continuous progress.
Chosen to keep going, even when it's slow.
Chosen to honor my body, my story, and my lineage through movement.

Some days, walking is graceful and light. Other days, it is simply an act of faith.

And on those days, that is enough.

So if today requires grit instead of grace, know that you are still moving forward. Every step you take carries memory, meaning, and momentum. The strength of those who came before you lays the groundwork for those who will follow.

This is the heart of The Journey of Miles, Milestones, and Memories; movement as legacy, healing, and quiet rebellion against giving up.

In the next installment, I will explore how endurance reshapes identity and why staying in motion matters even more when the road feels uncertain.

In Health Solidarity,

Coach Stacie
Embracing Me Wellness — one healed story at a time

The Journey of Miles, Milestones, and Memories - Part I

2025-12-01T21:40:00.002-05:00

And That About Wraps It Up

Thank you for joining me on this year-long journey and for supporting the 50/50/50 Miles, Milestones, and Memories Campaign. Your support fuels Embracing Me Wellness, a soft landing place for women to rediscover the whole self through creativity, movement, reflection, and gentle community.

Your support also sustains our quarterly Power of Pause gatherings, where women come together to receive the same compassion, care, and nourishment we so often pour into others. These gatherings are intentional spaces; no performing, no proving, simply being. We sit in community, reflect, meditate, share a meal, breathe deeply, and hold space for one another without fear of judgment.

We rest.

We journal.

We reconnect with the parts of ourselves we often silence.

Thank You

For Your:

Prayers
Presence at the quarterly events
Miles walked or run alongside me from October 24-November 24,2025
Encouragement, generosity, and support

Thank You To The Founding 50

Constance G.

Myeisha T.

Chris and Kate T.

Stevie

Melanie F.

Stefanie

Roger C.

Victor & Nataki R.

Michelle G.

Lena B.

And the many who chose to remain anonymous

Thank You For Purchasing Campaign T-shirts

Your continued support directly helps reduce financial barriers for women seeking wellness, community, and healing practices.

Special Thanks To Our Sponsors & Partners

Amani Massage & Wellness

Berry Berry Best Acai Bowls

Blak Steel Fitness

One Stop Barbershop

Lighthouse Catering
Flow With Fe Yoga
Love, Light, and Peace Apparel LLC

More to come on the journey to 50 and beyond! Stay tuned!

With Gratitude,

Stacie J.

Beneath the Sky

2025-10-26T16:01:00.004-04:00

Cultivating Inner Peace

Have you ever stretched out on the grass, face turned upward, and just watched the sky?

By day, the sky mirrors water: soft, flowing, alive. Clouds drift and dance like whispers of wind, inviting our imaginations to wander. By night, the stars shimmer and twinkle against a blanket of darkness, reminding us that even in shadow, light still dares to shine.

Since the great stillness of 2020, we've all been learning to live again, but differently this time. We've had to rewrite our narratives, reshape our perspectives, and rediscover what truly matters. We've been learning the quiet art of communication, not just with others, but with ourselves. We've been learning what it means to belong, to grieve, to heal, and to grow all at once.

And maybe, most importantly, we've been learning how to stay rooted to the earth beneath our feet, to the people who hold space for us, and to the version of ourselves we're still becoming.

Yes, the world hums with noise and distractions. But even amid the chaos, we have the power to cultivate peace, to tend the garden of our hearts with intention. Relationships, like gardens, require care and patience. Everyone carries their own story, their own way of seeing. Yet we still get to choose how we show up with compassion, curiosity, and love.

So, take a moment. Step outside. Breathe deeply. Look up. The same sky that has watched over generations before you still holds space for your becoming.

Affirmation:

I am both rooted and rising, grounded in who I am, and open to who I am still becoming.

Question to Reflect On:

What part of your life is asking you to slow down, listen, and grow differently this time?

Embracing Me Reaches 90,000 Views

2025-10-21T12:07:00.000-04:00

My heart is full...

Today did not begin gracefully. My body felt heavy, my spirit wavered, and I quietly wondered how much more strength I had for the day ahead.

And then I saw it.

90,008 views.
73 countries.
6 continents.

Embracing Me, a simple space I created to breathe healing, hope, and honest reflection into the world, is being read across the globe.

And today… that truth reached deeper than analytics ever could.

I sat here with tears in my eyes because this isn’t just a number, but proof that stories heal, vulnerability travels, and light always finds its way.

To every heart, in every country, every time zone, every language…

Thank you! Merci! Gracias! Asante! Amesegenallo!

E se! Salamat! Dhanyavaad! Obrigada! Danke! Grazie! Sulpayki! Aguyje! Gamsahamnida! Xiexie!

Thank you for reading.
Thank you for quietly returning.
Thank you for sharing this space with me, even if we’ve never met.

We are connected on purpose, and I believe the healing of one sparks healing in another.

I believe with everything in me that the world is ready for restoration.

If you are reading this right now, please know:

You are part of this unfolding.
You are proof that hope still spreads.
And I am so honored you are here.

With joy, gratitude, and a heart wide open,

Stacie J.

The God Who Weeps:

2025-10-01T06:58:00.001-04:00

Finding Strength in Honest Emotions

I often hear people say, “If you trust God, then you shouldn’t be sad, angry, or upset.” But I don’t believe this is sound biblical teaching.

The Bible is full of examples of God Himself expressing emotion: righteous anger, grief, compassion, even jealousy (Exodus 34:14; John 11:35; Mark 3:5).

To dismiss our own emotions as weakness overlooks the truth that we are made in the image of God (Genesis 1:27). That means the capacity to feel deeply is not a flaw, it is part of the divine imprint within us.

Of course, some might counter with, “But God is sovereign; He can do whatever He wants.” That is true according to Psalm 115:3, and yet, the other truth remains: God created us to bear His likeness. Our emotions, when surrendered and aligned with Him, can become bridges to deeper intimacy.

David poured out his sorrow and frustration in the Psalms (Psalm 13; Psalm 42:11).

Jeremiah is called “the weeping prophet” (Jeremiah 9:1).

Even Jesus withdrew to solitary places to pray and wept openly (Luke 5:16; John 11:35).

Scripture does not demand emotional suppression; it invites honesty before God.

The world, however, is loud with its opinions. Noise about how to worship, how to pray, how to behave in church, how to measure faith. Yet beyond the commands to love God, love your neighbor (Matthew 22:37–39), and to fellowship together (Hebrews 10:24–25), there is no rigid formula dictating how an individual must engage God.

Worship is not confined to pews or pulpits. Worship is also in the tending of the temple of our bodies (1 Corinthians 6:19–20), in the care of our spirits, in listening for the still, small voice of God (1 Kings 19:12).

As I reflect on history, I wonder how and when the Church became so fragmented. I know some of the context: the union of church and state, the Crusades, denominational splits, but I also believe tradition often overshadows the heart of God.

Jesus consistently pushed back against the weight of man-made rules that distorted God’s intent (Mark 7:6–8). People still, at times, choose to worship leaders rather than God Himself. That’s not a judgment—just an observation.

Some lead with fear, some with charisma, some with genuine love, and sadly, some with manipulation. Which is why I’ve learned to value wise counsel while still seeking God personally for how I am to live, serve, and worship.

True worship, I believe, is expressed in tangible acts of service (Matthew 25:35–36), in caring for those in need, in gathering in community, and in stealing away for quiet moments of prayer and renewal.

I love small groups, learning in community, and the sweetness of fellowship. Yet as an empath, I also need solitude—time to just be with God. Even Jesus modeled this balance (Luke 5:16).

This world will always hand us rules and expectations. But ultimately, it is you and God who will walk your path together. Don’t let the cares of this life pull you in a hundred directions. Be grounded, like a tree planted by streams of living water (Psalm 1:3). Find peace within, for God intended us not merely to exist but to live abundantly (John 10:10). Nature itself testifies to God’s design—a rhythm of rootedness, growth, and flourishing.

Closing Reflection:

When we strip away the noise of tradition, judgment, and human expectation, what remains is God’s invitation to be fully alive, emotions and all. To walk with Him in honesty, not pretense. To love, to weep, to grow angry at injustice, to rejoice in beauty, to rest in His presence.

If we are made in His image, then our humanity is not a flaw to be hidden but a reflection of His own heart. The world will always demand more rules, more masks, more performance. But God desires your presence, not your perfection.

So breathe deep. Root yourself like the tree by living waters. Let your life be worship, not just your words. And in all things, remember, you are not alone on this journey. God sees you. God knows you. And God delights in you, even here, even now.

With Love,

Stacie J.

The Lord Weighs the Heart:

2025-09-27T07:38:00.000-04:00

Finding Grace in the Midst of Disagreement

How a devotional reminded me that conviction and compassion can live side by side

Today’s reflection was sparked by a devotional reading from Joshua Dubois’ The President’s Devotional. His words presented me with both a challenge and an invitation to reconsider how I approach disagreement in my own life.

In his devotional, Dubois reflected on a heated policy debate and realized something vital:

“You can question policy decisions. You can disagree with people—even vehemently. But you should be very, very careful before you question others’ motives…The Lord weighs the heart—not me, not anyone else but God.” 

— Joshua Dubois, The President’s Devotional.

That struck me.

Too often, especially in our political climate, we turn disagreements into character assassinations. We make people who see things differently into our enemies. But what if, like Dubois, we chose another way? What if we fought passionately for what we believe, but also recognized that others are doing the same from their vantage point?

This landed deeply because I know what it’s like to live on the vulnerable side of policy.

Years ago, I received a small raise, just one dollar more than the income threshold for state health coverage. That “extra” dollar disqualified my children from medical care, but it wasn’t nearly enough for me to afford private insurance. I was a working mother, stretched thin, and my kids went without consistent healthcare for a season. Bills piled up. The stress was heavy.

That experience solidified my conviction in health equity, particularly for women, children, the elderly, veterans, and other vulnerable populations.

So yes, I hold strong convictions. I know the stakes of policy decisions because I’ve lived them. But Dubois’ reminder helped me see something crucial: my convictions don’t give me the right to judge someone else’s heart.

Proverbs 21:2 says, “Every way of a man is right in his own eyes, but the Lord weighs the heart.” God alone sees the inner landscape of a person’s intentions.

As I reflect, I realize that perhaps our true “enemies” aren’t other people at all, but our unchecked egos, our fear, and our unwillingness to listen.

What might change if we approached political, personal, or even family disagreements with humility: seeking not just to win, but to understand?

My hope is that we can begin to find middle ground. Not a ground where everyone gets everything they want, but one where human dignity and care are safeguarded on all sides. A ground where we argue policy hard and fair, but resist the temptation to call someone’s heart corrupt simply because it beats differently from our own.

Reflection Questions:

Where have your personal experiences shaped your convictions?
Can you recall a time when you assumed someone’s motives instead of listening to their perspective?
What would it look like to “fight hard and fair” in your own context: at work, at home, or in the community?

With thoughtful reflection,

Stacie J.

60 Day Countdown To 50!

2025-09-25T08:11:00.067-04:00

Miles, Milestones, and Memories

This is my golden year of turning 50! I am super excited and feel absolutely delighted that today marks the 2-month countdown to my birthday!

This year has been filled with more self-reflection than I think I've done all my life. I feel that I've changed in such deep and divine ways.

For those of you who have been following the journey, you've witnessed a remarkable transformation.

I have literally been running races, not fainting or giving in...and trust me, sometimes I wanted to. Like when my body tried to throw me off with an uninvited cyst this year.

I'm shedding weight and pounds (literally and figuratively).

Overcoming fears, challenges, and setbacks like they were unwanted guests, I finally dared to kick out. Pressing forward towards the mark of the higher calling within me...I mean, because when you live for half a century, your perspective doesn't just shift, it deepens.

You put on internal glasses, flex the muscles you've worked hard to build while simultaneously developing new ones you never imagined could blossom. And, suddenly, so much of what you carried in the first half of your life seems completely unimportant.

People may not always understand me, and that's okay. Sometimes they judge what they see and often what they don't see, and that's okay too, because I am focused on continuing to grow. I'm starting to develop a love for reading things that are not academically inclined.

I am reengineering my life, rewiring old circuits, tossing out the tangled cords of past trauma, and still keeping my heart intact (even while lending it out to support others). As my good Sis, Ubani always says, multiple things can be true at the same time.

I am super grateful for all the people who have given to my 50/50/50 Campaign for my wellness and coaching business.

And now, here's how you can celebrate with me:

From October 24th - November 24th, I'll be walking and running 50 miles in 30 days while raising $50,000 to expand my coaching and wellness services for women.

This isn't just a birthday; it's a movement of healing, legacy, and joy in motion. Whether you join the 50-mile challenge, donate, or simply cheer me on, you are part of this journey. Every mile, every milestone, every memory counts...yes, even the sweaty ones!

Ways to get involved:

👟 If you would like to join the Virtual Walk/Run Challenge, click here: 50/50/50 Virtual Walk/Run Registration Form

🧧 If you would like to give, click here: 50/50/50 Campaign Donation

🎉 If you would like to send a message of encouragement, support, or early birthday greetings, email me at GodsGiftLLC@gmail.com

With Joy, Excitement, and a Touch of Sweat,

Stacie J.

Embracing Me

This Space Held Me

...Now It Releases Me

Grounded Women Series — Week 4: Michelle Obama + Mellody Hobson + Deborah Owens

A Purse, A Purpose, and A Plan: Education, Wealth, and Women Building Financial Sovereignty

Michelle Obama: Education as a Foundation for Leadership

Mellody Hobson: Financial Literacy as Empowerment

Deborah Owens: Economic Confidence for Women

Leadership Lesson

Where Learning Becomes Leadership in Practice

An Invitation to Reflect

Closing

Grounded Women Series — Week 3: Vashti Murphy McKenzie + Josephine Truxton Ridgley

Shepherds Who Lead With Presence: Faith Beyond Performance

My Spiritual Journey Didn’t Start in a Church

When a Book Opens Something in You

Leadership That Makes Room for Humanity

Learning to Live Without Chaos

When Healing Finally Finds Its Doorway

Why Embracing Me Was Born

Sacred Self-Leadership: A Personal Inventory

Leading Yourself

Leading in Community

Healing and Spiritual Grounding

Looking Ahead

Grounded Women Series — Week 2: Taraji P. Henson + Brené Brown

Strong Women Feel Deeply: Emotional Intelligence as Leadership

Where Their Work Intersects

Taraji P. Henson: Storytelling That Tells The Truth

When the Performance Ends

Brené Brown: Research That Gives People Permission to Be Human

The Balance Between Them

Where I Enter the Story

What I Want Readers to Learn About Themselves

Closing Reflection

Next Week in the Grounded Women Series

Grounded Women Series — Week 1: Florence Griffith Joyner

Speed, Style, and Sovereignty: Lessons Flo-Jo Left for Women Who Lead

The Body as a Vessel of Purpose

Every Woman Has A Pace

Legacy Beyond The Track

Running Our Own Race

March Series Introduction

Grounded Women: Leadership, Legacy, & Lived Wisdom

Consider your own leadership. Ask yourself:

Grief Can Dance Too

The Space Where Love Still Lives

11:47 - My Heart Stood Still

Honoring My Best Friend

He Was My First Friend

The Boy Who Took Care of Us

Our Games, Our Music, Our Joy

The Man He Became

He Cheered Me On

From Spirit to Mind to Body:

A Thank You Across Borders

The Journey From Spirit to Mind to Body

A Space to Belong, Reflect, and Grow

She Powered Through & Then She Recovered

Why recovery is not a reward, but a requirement

Recovery as Leadership: Bridge Wellness Center

Gentle Disclaimer: As with any wellness practice, individual experiences may vary. I encourage readers to conduct their own research and consult a healthcare provider to determine what is appropriate and safe for their personal health needs.

She Powered Through

She Power Race Recap

Let's Celebrate

Preparing for She Power: Honoring the Pause

The Night Before: Race Eve Rituals & Restless Energy

Long Before the Starting Line: This Journey Didn't Start in 2025

Sunrise Sisterhood: Women at the Corner

The Race: Mile 4.65 & Gentle Push Forward

The Finish Line: Proof, Tears, and Chocolate Cake

Familiar Rhythms & the Drive Home

2026 vs. 2025: The Numbers Tell the Story

Overall Time

Pace Breakdown: Mile by Mile

Cadence & Effort: The Invisible Wins

The Takeaway

The Invisible Barrier

The Holy Trinity of Self-Care

Why Mind, Body, and Spirit Are Essential for Sustainable Leadership and Wellbeing

Shepherds Who Lead With Presence:
Faith Beyond Performance