Posted April 4, 2026

March came.

It did exactly what it said. It marched.

I don’t even know where the month went.

The weather here has been just as unpredictable as the days themselves. One morning this week, I started early with home health visits. The day opened sunny and cool. By mid morning, the wind picked up. Then came light showers. Rain. Hail. Snow. Back to rain. Snow again. And then, somehow, it returned to sun.

If you’ve never been to Utah, you may not know the quiet beauty of the mountains. This week, they disappeared. Hidden behind layers of shifting weather, receiving what they needed most.

Water.

There’s a lyric from Commissioned in the song I’m Learning that has always stayed with me:

“…rain fills the sky, yet the sun is always there though it seems to hide, waiting for the right moment to brighten up your life…”

That’s what March felt like.

I don’t fully know why I’m here in Utah.

But I do know this: healing has happened here.

This is a place I once tried to forget.

But being here has made remembering unavoidable.

I didn’t come back empty handed.

I came with bags.

Some packed years ago.

Some filled along the way, some while in Mississippi, and in places I haven’t even named out loud.

By the time I arrived,

I was carrying more than I could sort through and holding more than I knew how to set down.

But something shifted.

I found myself revisiting old patterns.

Connecting dots I couldn’t see before.

Letting go of thoughts I learned… but never chose.

I’ve spent so much of my life in a constant state of alert.

Always ready. Always bracing. Always in flight.

Making concessions for others at my own expense.

Shrinking, adjusting, accommodating...just to avoid being an inconvenience.

I see that now.

And I’m releasing it.

The versions of me that once carried those burdens have been relieved of their duties.

They’ve found peace.

And there are still parts of me...quiet, patient parts...waiting their turn.

Waiting for the right moment to rise.

To be seen.

To brighten my life.

March wasn’t loud in the way I expected.

It was physical.

Visceral.

Felt in ways I couldn’t always explain...both seen and unseen.

But it moved something in me.

And maybe that’s what it was meant to do.

These aren't "the Utah mountains".  

This pic was taken at Lake Mary in Big Cottonwood Canyon. 

The hike was a hike...for me.

 

I took all the rest breaks I needed.

 

I sent the others in our party ahead as I walked at my own pace. 

The elevation was crazy, each deep breath reminded me just how out of shape I was. 

The view.  

The quiet.  

The stillness. 

The peace. 

It was worth the climb. 

This picture is my reminder, that I still can do hard things.