Some lives are loud in all the best ways.

Some lives feel steady, rooted, and quietly powerful.

Grandma Pearl somehow managed to be both.

Her passing came far too quickly. She began feeling unwell around Thanksgiving. By Christmas, the diagnosis came—aggressive cancer. And just one month later, she was gone. It still feels unreal to write those words.

But what is very real is the legacy she leaves behind.

For our kids, visits from Grandma Pearl were something sacred in their own right. They meant homemade breakfasts in the morning—the kind that made us gather at the table. They meant laughing late into the night, goofing off without watching the clock. They meant hikes, little adventures, and of course, trips to the dollar store that somehow felt like treasure hunts every single time.

Grandma Pearl had a gift: she never met a stranger she didn’t want to talk to. A quick errand could turn into a half-hour conversation. She listened fully. She noticed people. She made space wherever she went.

Her faith was the quiet anchor of her life. She was a devoted follower of Jesus Christ, faithfully attending Mass every day at her Catholic church in Pierre. Her faith wasn’t flashy—it was practiced. Lived. Worn gently, like well-used hands.

She also carried a deep love for her country and a profound pride in her Native American heritage. Those pieces of who she was were never in competition—they coexisted beautifully, woven into the way she understood history, family, and belonging.

One of the most sacred moments our family shared came near the end. As the boys gathered around the phone to say their goodbyes, Grandma Pearl spoke to them with clarity and love. “Be good,” she said. “Love one another.” When one of them began to cry, she gently reminded him, “It’s okay. Grandma’s okay.”

At one point, she looked off camera and asked, “Did you ask the question?”

She had asked me to sing “How Great Thou Art” at her celebration of life. I told her what an honor that would be. There aren’t many words for moments like that—only that it felt holy.

This slideshow is a small offering of remembrance. A way of saying thank you. A way of holding onto laughter, faith, love, and the steady presence of a woman who shaped our children more than she may have ever realized.

Grandma Pearl—thank you for the breakfasts, the adventures, the conversations, the faith you lived out so faithfully, and the love you poured so freely.

You are deeply missed.

And deeply cherished.

Every first week of the month, I meet with our elders to pray. We talk about spiritual matters, where the church is headed, what’s stirring in our hearts, and we ask God to guide us.

Back in June, I brought three prayer points to that circle — one of them was this: Lord, raise up a student ministry.

See, we’ve been without a youth pastor since last Fall. And I told the elders, “I’m not going to let that happen again this year.”

(LOL. As if I could just will that into existence.)

But I meant it. I was feeling the pressure. Not from people, but from the weight of the moment. Pastor Dyani, our incredible children’s pastor who has poured into kids for decades, has students graduating up — and no bridge for them to cross into. No middle ground. No “next.”

So, a little backstory: I’ve done student ministry. Two decades of it. I love it — I’ve got the scars, stories, and stretch marks to prove it. But I’ve also had some wise voices in my life caution me against stepping back into that space while walking through personal healing. They weren’t wrong. I’ve waited, I’ve prayed, and I’ve listened.

But this Spring, something shifted.

As I leaned into those prayer meetings with the staff and elders, I started to feel a deep yes in my spirit. Not a “be the youth pastor again” kind of yes — but a “rally the troops” kind of yes. Like I was meant to step in and captain a launch — whether we had a youth pastor in place yet or not.

The elders were with me. The plan felt right. The timing felt right. And then…

God did what only God does.

About a week later, I got a call from a friend who helps book the Hills Alive Festival — a huge Christian music weekend here in Rapid. She asked if we wanted the Saturday night festival speaker to come preach at our service that Sunday.

Of course, I was interested — until I remembered we already had a guest the Sunday before. I don’t like asking our people to give love offerings two weeks in a row — I want to honor generosity, not exhaust it.

But God wasn’t done.

An anonymous donor covered the cost in full, and suddenly, we had Bob Lenz — a nationally known evangelist with a huge heart for youth — coming to share at Destiny.

And what did he speak on?

Exactly what I asked for: “Faith for the Next Generation.”

Bob didn’t just preach — he commissioned us. He emphasized the value of every soul, especially that of students. He reminded us that the lost, the rejected, the ones on the edge of hope — those are our people. That Jesus left the 99 for the one, and it’s time for us to stop waiting and start reaching.

I wept through the whole message. It was like Holy Spirit grabbed me and said, “Now’s the time.”

So that week, I started sending texts and emails. I wasn’t sure who would say yes. But every person I reached out to… did! Some of them shocked me with their enthusiasm. Others I hadn’t even reached out to yet started reaching out to me! “Count me in.” “I’m all in.” “Let’s do this!”

It was like puzzle pieces falling into place.

Then came the question of space. The room we used to use for youth ministry? It’s now being rented out to another church. (Which we’re thrilled about, by the way — we love partnering and supporting other ministries!) But it meant we needed a new home for our students.

That’s when someone said, “What about the basement of the office building?”

Not glamorous. Not flashy. But we walked down there… and we saw it. We saw what it could become. It wasn’t just storage space anymore. It was a blank canvas for God’s next move.

And we knew: it was going to take work. And money. And vision.

We didn’t have a budget for a remodel.

So we shared the dream with the church. The need? About $4,000.

That was two Sundays ago.

Today? We’re only $327 away from the goal!

God has provided — not just funds, but people, passion, purpose.

We’re calling the relaunch PROJECT: ELEVATE — because that’s what we believe He’s doing with this generation. Lifting them up. Calling them higher.

This is just the beginning, but I already see His fingerprints all over it.

If you’ve been wondering whether God still speaks, still leads, still moves through His people — look no further than the basement of Destiny Foursquare Church.

He’s building something from the ground up.

And we get to be part of the story.

We shared a meal and opened Christmas gifts with 6 of the kids out at Dad’s today. I cherish these times.

It is so good to have Autumn and Bella home!