When the Dust Settles: Faith, Love, and Laughter

The first half of this year has been tough, though I didn’t fully understand why until recently. I’ve been constantly moving, driven by the momentum of life’s demands over the past few years, without ever taking time to truly process everything. There was no break between the life-changing events—just one after another.

In 2024, when things finally began to slow down and I felt like I could take a deep breath and start piecing things together, my father passed away. And just like that, the rollercoaster started again.

I’ve faced so much in such a short time that I had no choice but to push through it the best I could—and, of course, I did. Now, in the aftermath, life feels oddly peaceful. My divorce is way behind me. I’m living alone for the first time, with no kids in the house, and only responsibilities to myself. My father is gone. And sometimes, the silence can be deafening.

I’ve always been an independent woman. But independence can fool you into thinking you’ve got everything under control. Honestly, I know I couldn’t have handled the last two years without Christ. My faith has been my lifeline. I often wonder how others make it without something bigger to hold on to—a source of comfort and peace. That thought inspires me to share the beauty of faith.

The peace I find in God is beyond measure. It comforts me when nothing else makes sense. It gently guides me back when I stray. It always leads me home when I’m lost.

A little over a year ago, I committed to opening myself up to the possibility of new relationships, and this year, I’ve been more intentional about it. Let me say: the dating scene isn’t for the faint of heart.

Opening up again is hard. In a world that often feels cold, distant, and dominated by screens, I wasn’t sure I still had it in me. But how else do you meet someone if you don’t try?

We overthinkers and hopeless romantics tend to analyze everything:

Did I break up with the one person who was my soulmate?

Did I miss him because I was distracted, or did I marry the wrong person?

Is this a chance to rewrite the ending?

Still, I’ve always believed you can’t go back. If someone’s in your past, there’s usually a reason. My father used to say people don’t change much, and I think he was right—so I keep moving forward.

Then… the dating apps. You know the story: one wine-fueled night with your friends (who are all married or in relationships), and suddenly you’re downloading apps “just for fun.” But fun quickly turns into a flood of inappropriate comments, unsolicited photos, throuple invites, and pitches for open relationships.

To which I reply: “I was unknowingly in an open relationship for 20+ years—hard pass.”

So, you pray. You ask God not just to guide you, but to bring the right people into your life. The ones who will help you discover who you are and who you’re still becoming. Maybe not the one, but wouldn’t that be nice, too?

And then it happens. People start showing up—through fate, mutual friends, chance, or simply God’s timing. That’s when the real work begins: understanding why each person has entered your life.

Sometimes, it’s just a moment—a confidence boost after years of being told you aren’t enough and you can never be enough. Other times, it’s a friendship that needs your light more than you need theirs. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s divine timing—two lives syncing in unexpected and beautiful ways.

And some people bring joy—no deeper meaning needed—just fun, laughter, and a reminder that connection is still possible.

I genuinely believe all relationships serve us. You’ve probably heard the saying: “People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.” Don’t stress over which one applies. Just know that even if it doesn’t end the way you hoped, it still ends the way it was meant to. Cherish every moment. Trust God’s plan.

So here’s to dating. To opening up. To saying yes (except to open relationships—laughing). And here’s to trusting the faith through it all.

And if you’re ever struggling or just need someone to listen, remember: there’s always a seat at my table. There you’ll find an espresso martini, a few tears, probably some sarcasm, and lots of Jesus. With faith and friendship, we’ll figure it out together.

Reach out if you need to. Until then, I’ll see you next month with hopefully some fantastic stories to tell about life.

Much love and blessings,

Kim