Being divorced, a homeschooling mother, a perfumer running my own business, and a musician serving three churches means my days often feel like layered chords — full, textured, and constantly shifting. Each role has its own rhythm, its own demands, and its own beauty. Some mornings, I wake up before the twins do so I can get my workout in and get ahead on emails and admin tasks before heading to my studio. Other days, I’m packing orders, preparing lesson plans, and then rushing to an afternoon rehearsal. Life stays full, but it’s a fullness I’ve learned to honor and shape with intention.

Homeschooling my children is one of the greatest gifts in my life, but it also requires boundaries. I used to feel guilty carving out space for myself, as if motherhood  — especially post-divorce — required complete self-sacrifice to prove my stability. Over time, I realized that healthy boundaries allow me to show up as the best version of myself — for my boys, for my craft, and for the communities I faithfully serve through music. When I say, “Mommy needs thirty minutes,” it isn’t a shutdown; it’s an invitation for them to witness balance, autonomy, and emotional honesty.

As a perfumer, my creative energy is both abundant and fragile. Scent requires patience. It requires stillness. It requires me to actually slow down enough to smell my own life, not just race through it. I’ve learned that I cannot pour beauty into my fragrances when I am pouring from an empty well. So I’ve made intentional breaks a priority — small weekend trips, slow mornings in nature, long drives with no noise but the wind and my thoughts. These resets are not luxuries; they are necessities that restore my spirit with renewed clarity, especially while navigating life after divorce.

Music anchors me, too. Standing at the organ, letting notes rise and settle around me, reminds me to breathe. Music is a space where I can be fully present. No deadlines, no curriculum, no responsibilities other than honoring the moment. That same stillness is what I try to carry home to my children.

Balancing everything doesn’t mean doing it all perfectly. It means listening to myself. It means modeling resilience and rest. My life is a blend — motherhood, artistry, worship, and business. And, somehow — with grace, boundaries, and intentional pauses — it all harmonizes. I’m learning that balance isn’t found; it’s created. And, every day, I’m crafting it one choice, one breath, and one moment of peace at a time.