Every morning, before the day asks anything of me, I like to step outside with a cup of coffee and walk through my garden.
Some mornings there are exciting surprises—a new blossom, a tomato beginning to blush, or a pepper that seemed to appear overnight. Other mornings, everything looks exactly as it did the day before.
This week, my attention has been on my berry bushes. Instead of looking for fruit, I’ve been focusing on something much less exciting but far more important: the soil beneath them. I added compost, mulch, and nutrients to give them the best chance to thrive in the seasons ahead.
It reminded me that the healthiest gardens aren’t built by chasing quick harvests. They’re built by investing in strong roots.
Life works much the same way.
We often want immediate results. We want the promotion, the stronger body, the thriving friendships, the peaceful home, or the dream we’ve been working toward. But so much of life’s meaningful growth happens where no one can see it.
Roots are growing long before flowers bloom.
This season has reminded me that patience isn’t passive. It’s choosing to water what matters, even when the evidence of progress is still hidden beneath the surface.
One day those berry bushes will reward the care they’re receiving today. Until then, I’ll keep tending the soil.
Maybe that’s a lesson we can all carry with us.
Not every season is meant for harvesting.
Some seasons are meant for growing roots.
What are you nurturing today that may not bear fruit until tomorrow?
One of the questions I get asked the most is, “How do you come up with so many different recipes?”
The truth is, I rarely have to look very far for inspiration. It lives right here in my home.
Cooking for my family is a little like running a restaurant with four very different customers—including the chef.
One child has an undeniable sweet tooth and would happily eat seafood whenever I put it on the menu. Another loves the comforting, familiar flavors of Sierra Leone—the foods that connect us to family, tradition, and home. Then there’s my youngest, who keeps me on my toes. What she’ll love one week might be completely off the table the next, so every meal feels like a new adventure.
And then there’s me.
I’m about 90% vegan. I rarely eat meat or dairy, though I do enjoy seafood from time to time. My own meals are centered around vegetables, beans, grains, herbs, and whatever is thriving in my little garden.
At first glance, it might sound exhausting to cook for so many different tastes. Some days, it certainly can be. But over the years, I’ve learned that meal planning isn’t about making four separate dinners. It’s about finding common ground.
A pot of rice can become the foundation for several meals. Roasted vegetables can be served alongside grilled seafood, tucked into a Sierra Leonean-inspired stew, or added to my own plant-based bowl. A homemade sauce can completely transform the same ingredients into something that feels entirely new.
Instead of asking, “What do I have to cook tonight?” I’ve started asking, “How can one meal make everyone feel cared for?”
That simple shift has changed the way I think about cooking.
It has also challenged me to become more creative in the kitchen. Some of my favorite recipes have been born from trying to satisfy four different appetites without spending the entire evening cooking.
Over the next few weeks, I’d love to share some of those family-inspired meals with you. I’ll show you how I adapt one recipe into several variations, how I keep meal prep manageable, and how my children continue to inspire nearly everything I create in the kitchen.
Every now and then, you finish a book and realize you’re not quite ready to leave its characters behind. Their stories linger in your thoughts, and you find yourself reflecting on them days after you’ve turned the final page.
That’s exactly how I felt after reading The Book Club for Troublesome Women.
Chosen as this month’s read for my ladies’ book club, this novel captured my attention from the very first chapter. More than a story about women gathering to read, it’s a heartfelt novel about friendship, courage, self-discovery, and the transformative power of finding your voice. It’s the kind of book that makes you pause, reflect, and appreciate the relationships that shape our lives.
Today, I’m sharing why this book earned a well-deserved five stars from me.
A Story That Resonated with Me
One of the things I loved most about this book was the way the author brought each woman to life. Their struggles, dreams, and relationships felt genuine, making it easy to become invested in their journeys. I found myself cheering them on as they challenged expectations, supported one another, and discovered strengths they didn’t always know they possessed.
While the novel is set in another time, the themes are timeless. We all long for meaningful friendships, the courage to be ourselves, and the freedom to pursue the life we envision. Those are the kinds of stories that stay with me long after I’ve finished reading.
More Than a Book Club
As someone who enjoys getting lost in a great book, I especially appreciated the way books served as a catalyst for connection throughout the story. It’s a wonderful reminder that reading is about so much more than turning pages. Books have a unique way of bringing people together, sparking conversations, and helping us see the world—and ourselves—from a different perspective.
That may be one of my favorite takeaways from this novel.
Why I Loved It
This book made me laugh, reflect, and appreciate the importance of having women in our lives who encourage us, challenge us, and remind us that we’re capable of more than we sometimes believe.
The writing was engaging, the pacing kept me interested, and I genuinely cared about what happened to the characters. By the final chapter, I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
For me, that’s always the sign of a memorable book.
My Rating
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
This was an easy five-star read for me. If you enjoy stories centered on friendship, personal growth, historical fiction, and the enduring power of books, I highly recommend adding The Book Club for Troublesome Women to your reading list.
Let’s Talk Books
Have you read The Book Club for Troublesome Women?
If so, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Did you have a favorite character? Was there a moment that especially resonated with you? Leave a comment below and let’s continue the conversation.
And if you haven’t read it yet, I hope you’ll consider adding it to your next book club—or simply your own “to be read” stack.
For a long time, I thought healing meant getting back to who I was before the trauma.
I thought the goal was to recover the version of myself that existed before the disappointments, betrayals, losses, and difficult experiences that shaped my life.
But lately, I’ve been wondering if healing is something entirely different.
What if healing isn’t about returning to who we were?
What if healing is about discovering who we have been all along?
A few days ago, I had a realization while talking with my children. They helped me see something I had never fully understood.
I have spent years believing there was something wrong with me.
Years believing I wasn’t enough.
Years focusing on my flaws, mistakes, and shortcomings.
Yet the people who know me best saw something very different.
They saw beauty where I saw imperfections.
They saw strength where I saw weakness.
They saw resilience where I saw brokenness.
And it made me wonder how many of us are carrying stories about ourselves that are no longer true.
Trauma has a way of changing the lens through which we view our lives.
It can convince us that we are less capable than we really are.
Less lovable than we really are.
Less worthy than we really are.
The trauma happened.
The pain was real.
But the story we tell ourselves because of the trauma isn’t always accurate.
Healing has taught me that growth doesn’t always look dramatic.
Sometimes it looks like taking a walk when you’d rather stay in bed.
Sometimes it looks like going for a run even when your pace is slower than you’d like.
Sometimes it looks like planting a garden and trusting that something beautiful can grow from the soil.
Sometimes it looks like setting a boundary.
Sometimes it looks like asking for help.
And sometimes it looks like finally seeing yourself through kinder eyes.
The truth is that I am still healing.
I suspect I always will be.
But I no longer see healing as a process of fixing a broken person.
I see it as a process of uncovering the person who has been there all along beneath the fear, the pain, and the self-doubt.
That person is stronger than she realized.
More capable than she believed.
And perhaps even more beautiful than she allowed herself to see.
Maybe that’s what healing really is.
Not becoming someone new.
But finally meeting yourself.
As we recognize PTSD Awareness Month, I hope we can expand the conversation beyond symptoms and diagnoses. Trauma affects real people—people who are raising families, going to work, building gardens, pursuing dreams, and quietly carrying burdens that others may never see.
Healing is possible. Recovery is possible. And sometimes the most important discovery is realizing that you were never as broken as trauma led you to believe.
Reflection Question
Have you ever discovered that something you believed about yourself wasn’t actually true?
I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.
Trauma has a way of changing the lens through which we view our lives.
PTSD is often misunderstood as something that only affects combat veterans, but trauma can result from many different experiences, including childhood adversity, domestic violence, neglect, medical trauma, accidents, or the loss of a loved one.
One of the most common trauma responses is hypervigilance—the feeling that you must constantly scan for danger even when you are safe. Another is the tendency to see yourself through the lens of survival rather than through the lens of your strengths.
Trauma changes the brain and the body. It can affect sleep, relationships, self-esteem, and even physical health. These responses are not signs of weakness. They are signs that your nervous system learned to protect you.
The good news is that healing is possible.
Healing may involve therapy, supportive relationships, movement, mindfulness practices, healthy boundaries, and learning to extend compassion toward yourself.
There is no “right” timeline for healing. Your pace is the right pace.
There’s a thought that’s been sitting with me lately:
What if each human being is their own universe?
Not in a literal sense—but in the way we experience the world.
Each of us carries our own history, our own rules, our own way of making meaning out of what happens to us. No two people walk through life with the exact same lens. Even when we share space, share love, share experiences—we are still interpreting it all differently.
And maybe…that’s why it can feel so hard to be fully understood.
We Are All Living in Different “Worlds”
Think about it for a moment.
Everything you believe about yourself—your worth, your safety, your place in the world—was shaped over time. Through childhood. Through relationships. Through moments that stayed with you longer than you expected.
Those experiences didn’t just happen and disappear.
They became the rules of your inner world.
For some, the world feels safe and predictable.
For others, especially those carrying deep emotional wounds or experiences like Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, the internal world may operate very differently—where trust feels risky, love feels uncertain, and safety doesn’t come easily.
Same world. Different realities.
Why Words Don’t Always Land the Way We Mean Them
We rely on language to connect, but language has limits.
You might say, “I feel hurt,” and mean something layered, deep, and rooted in years of experience.
Someone else might hear that and think of a passing moment—something small, something temporary.
The words are the same, but the meaning isn’t.
Because when we speak, we’re expressing something from our universe—and when someone listens, they’re interpreting it through theirs.
The Gap Between Being Heard and Being Understood
There’s a difference between someone hearing you and someone truly understanding you.
You can explain yourself clearly. You can be open, vulnerable, and honest.
And still feel…missed.
Not because the other person doesn’t care—but because they don’t have the same internal reference points. They haven’t lived your exact experiences. They don’t carry your exact meanings.
And there are parts of you that simply cannot be translated perfectly into words.
So What Does Real Understanding Look Like?
Maybe it’s not about someone saying, “I know exactly how you feel.”
Maybe it’s quieter than that.
Maybe it sounds like: “I may not fully understand, but I’m here.” “Help me see it the way you do.” “I believe you.”
Real understanding isn’t perfect. It’s intentional.
It’s someone choosing to step closer to your world, even if they can’t fully live in it.
A Shift in Expectation
What if the goal isn’t to be completely understood?
What if the goal is to be seen—honestly, gently, and without dismissal?
To be understood enough that you don’t feel alone in your experience.
And to offer that same grace to others—recognizing that they, too, are navigating a world shaped by things we may never fully see.
Final Thought
If we are each our own universe, then connection isn’t about becoming the same.
It’s about learning how to visit each other’s worlds with care.
A few years ago, in the middle of the pandemic, my family was carrying more stress than we knew how to name. Like so many households, our routines were disrupted, uncertainty felt constant, and my kids were overwhelmed in ways that showed up quietly — in moods, in questions, in exhaustion.
Around that time, a good friend recommended a book for our family book club: The Midnight Library by Matt Haig. We decided to read it together, not knowing just how much it would shift the way we were thinking about our lives.
If you want to check it out, here’s a link to the book:
What stood out most wasn’t just the story itself, but the conversations it sparked in our home.
Reading It Together Changed How We Saw Our Lives
At its core, The Midnight Library invites readers to think about the many versions of life we imagine for ourselves — the what ifs, the roads not taken, the choices that could have led us somewhere else. During a time when everything felt heavy, that idea resonated deeply with all of us.
As a family, we talked about regret, disappointment, and the temptation to compare our current lives to imagined alternatives. We talked about how easy it is to get caught up in what could have been and miss the value of what is.
What the book helped us see — gently and without judgment — is that even the hardest parts of our lives still hold meaning. That the life we are living, imperfect and unfinished, deserves our attention and care.
A Lesson That Still Stays With Us
Years later, we still reference this book from time to time. When one of us feels stuck, frustrated, or overwhelmed, the reminder comes back:
Don’t forget to take in the life you have.
That doesn’t mean ignoring pain or pretending everything is fine. It means learning how to hold gratitude and struggle at the same time. It means appreciating growth, resilience, and connection — even when circumstances are far from ideal.
For my kids especially, this book offered language for feelings they didn’t yet have words for. It helped them understand that stress and uncertainty don’t mean failure — they’re part of being human.
Why I Still Recommend This Book
I recommend The Midnight Library not because it offers easy answers, but because it encourages thoughtful reflection. It opens the door to meaningful conversations — especially within families — about choice, perspective, and how we learn to make peace with the lives we’re living.
It was exactly the book we needed at that moment in time. And looking back, I’m grateful we read it together.
Sometimes the right book doesn’t change your circumstances — it changes how you see them. And that can make all the difference.
I have always loved reading, my grandmother taught me to read before I started grade school. She was big on education and that is probably because she was not formally educated. She learned to read and write after she married my grandfather. She fell in love with learning and did her best to share that with me. I believe the first book I read was “My Book of Bible Stories”…this is a book published by the Jehovah’s Witnesses’ Organization. I was raised in the organization and was a practicing member up till about 2020. I left for personal reasons but I learned a lot about the importance of using critical thinking skills. My critical thinking skills were sharpen because of the books I was exposed to in my formative years.
One of the most formative books I read was “Their Eyes Were Watching God” By Zora Neale Hurston. The writing style was done in a conversational manner and it was raw in nature. Ms. Hurston use of colloquial dialect and standard English was unique and this was seen as controversial by some. The main character, Janine was strong and independent. She was not afraid to challenge the status quo. For a black woman in those days, this was considered a taboo.
I fell in love with this book in my senior year of high school. This also the book that led to me taking a break from writing regularly. My English teacher, assigned this book and we were also asked to complete an in class essay. I was her student teaching assistant that year. I took that role very seriously and I helped my peers who struggled with understanding some of the dialogue. I took pride in helping my peers while also working on my essay during class. It was one of my favorite experiences in high school. Everything changed when that same teacher accused me of cheating on the essay. She had asked me to be her teaching assistant. She accused me despite the essay being done in class. I never took it home with me. She reported me to the principal for cheating and was going to give me an F for the assignment. Thankfully, though my mom fought with me to get the grade I had earned.
The principal sided with me and my mom and I was given the grade I deserved. When asked why she believed I cheated. My English teacher noted that she did not believe I was smart enough. She doubted a girl like me understood the nuances of the material. Because I was an ESOL student, she did not believe I truly understood English. She assumed I must have copied my analysis from an outside source. That incident shock my confidence and for years I shied away from writing for fun. It took years of work on my self esteem for me to feel safe again as a writer.
I decided to share this. Educators must remember the type of influence they have on the students. This influence extends to both the classrooms and school hallways. I still love reading and I have passed the baton to my children. They all love reading and writing. We once had a family book club. It was a wonderful time for us as a family.
Reading is not only fun, it is a necessity that we must keep encouraging. Below, is a list of books I have read and shared with my kids.
Othello, Their Eyes Were Watching God, The Gift, Midnight Library, The Bible, The Stranger, The Contender. A Streetcar Named Desire, The Great Gatsby, and The Glass Menagerie.
The above list is simply a small sample of books I have read and enjoyed. I have a much longer list. My children are into fantasy books, historical fiction novels, and non-fictional novels. We love to have discussions about the themes of books we have read.
Haven Harvest Living 