Ask anyone, and they’ll tell you — New Orleans knows resilience. It’s in our music, our food, and the way we rebuild, over and over. We wear it like a badge of honor, proof that we can endure, survive anything — even Category 5 hurricanes — and still come back stronger.

But at what cost?

For so long, resilience has meant pushing through, no matter what. Smiling through pain, showing up even when we’re running on empty, and carrying the weight of the world like it’s normal. We’ve done it for so long, we don’t even stop to think about it. We just keep going, never giving ourselves permission to pause.

But here’s the thing: resilience without rest isn’t strength. It’s survival on autopilot.

The January 1, 2025 terror attack on Bourbon Street in New Orleans brought that into focus for me. The emotional toll wasn’t just heavy, it was numbing. For a city that prides itself on strength, this time, it felt like we didn’t just need resilience. We needed healing.

And then . . . it snowed.

For the first time in years, real snow fell over New Orleans. Almost 10 inches! It covered rooftops and cars, had kids running outside screaming with joy, and even got grown folks making snow angels and snowmen. I’ll never forget when someone said to me, “The Lord knew we needed this blessing. We needed joy in the midst of everything.”

She was right.

I thought of Psalm 74:17, “It was you who set all the boundaries of the earth; you made both summer and winter.”

God’s glory was in that snow.

For a moment, the weight lifted. The city exhaled. We forgot about the pain and just let ourselves enjoy the wonder of it all. It was a gift, a reminder that resilience isn’t just about enduring — it’s also about knowing when to pause, breathe, and receive the goodness around us.

That snowfall reminded me of something I’ve been learning over and over: Resilience is not a badge of honor if it comes at the cost of your well-being.

I’ve come to realize that true resilience requires self-awareness. Without it, we just keep pushing, grinding, and pouring from an empty cup, until there’s nothing left to give. Self-awareness, on the other hand, lets us find balance. It helps us know when to lean on faith, community, and even ourselves in ways that honor our humanity.

For me, in that snowy moment, self-awareness looked like:

• Admitting I didn’t have to pretend everything was okay.
• Allowing myself to grieve what happened in my city, while embracing the beauty of the snow.
• Realizing that resilience isn’t just about surviving — it’s about living fully, deeply, and intentionally.

New Orleans is a city of joy, but joy isn’t just something we create. It’s something we have to allow ourselves to receive. That day, we let ourselves feel it. We let the snow take our minds off everything heavy, even if just for a moment. Still, that moment of joy was sacred.

I know I’m not the only one who feels the pressure to always be strong. As women, as mothers, as leaders, we carry so much. We convince ourselves that we have to keep going, no matter how much we’re struggling. But what if we gave ourselves permission to pause?

To rest.
To grieve.
To embrace joy when it comes.
To be resilient, but also whole.

Maybe true resilience isn’t about how much we can endure. Maybe it’s about knowing when to stop and let God carry what we can’t. I truly believe that snow was a reminder of His grace . . . a reminder that He sees us, even in our hardest seasons. That we don’t have to carry it all. Sometimes, His love shows up as a moment of joy in the middle of sorrow, reminding us that resilience isn’t about proving our strength.

On the contrary, resilience is about honoring our needs.

So I want to ask you: Where in your life are you pushing through when you really need to pause?