Tell me the Good

My mom gently reminded me last night to ‘share the good’ after my writings yesterday. In this reminder, she checked on me, asked me how I was, and we chatted about it all. She’s been traveling, I’ve been traveling, we’ve missed each other recently. She’s knows that because writing is my outlet for challenging, hard to walk through, hard to sort out emotions, I do get caught in that. She reminded me, hey, share the good sis! So here it is. All the good.

It’s been tucked in between the chaos recently, but it’s been there, steady, bright, and undeniable when life slows down long enough for me to embrace it.

Odin and I spent a full day together at the Pacific Science Center Friday, just the two of us. No distractions, just time. Real, present, intentional time. And it was a BLAST. The kind of day that fills your cup in ways you didn’t realize it needed. We wandered through exhibits like we had nowhere else to be, because we didn’t. The giant dinos, the circus mirrors, the arts & crafts. So. Much. Fun. The spider exhibit had us both equally fascinated and slightly unsettled, laughing and cringing at the same time. And the butterflies… oh my gosh, the butterflies. They were obsessed with Odie’s bright tie dye sweater, landing on him like he was part of the exhibit himself. He lit up. I lit up. It was simple and it was everything.

Meanwhile, life around that special moment has been… a whirlwind. April 8–15 I was gone for work, soaking in new experiences, stretching myself in ways that reminded me just how capable I am. I came home, scooped Odin up on my way home the 15th, and then we were off again from the 18–20 for medical travel at Seattle Children’s. Back-to-back, go-go-go, barely time to breathe kind of chaos.

But here’s the good in that too—my husband hasn’t missed a beat. Not once. He has been steady, patient, selfless, and so deeply supportive through it all. Holding down home, showing up for us, never making the chaos feel heavier than it already is. Just quietly being our foundation. And I don’t say that lightly. It’s been a lot, and he’s carried it with so much grace.

And the very start of all this—April 8th—felt like a quiet reminder that none of it was random. Sitting in the SeaTac airport, right as the chaos of travel was beginning, I ran into two women I had been praying for all week. One was on her way back to Ketchikan after being across the country visiting an ill parent, carrying so much weight. I was relieved to hear of her positive spirits and the time she enjoyed. The other had been stuck in Israel in the midst of war, finally making her way home to American soil. I had no idea I would see either of them, not a single expectation of it. And yet, there they were. I got to hug them both, tears in my eyes both times, overwhelmed in the best way. It felt so intentional, like God gently placed them right in front of me, as if to say, “I see you. I hear you.” Before life took off for 2 weeks, before the whirlwind really began, He gave me that moment—and I knew I needed it.

That work trip? It gave me more than just miles traveled. It gave me confidence. It reminded me that I know what I’m doing, that I belong in the spaces I’m stepping into, that my career is growing in real and tangible ways. From broken pelvis’s, to robotic hysterectomies, massive abdominal reconstructions, to Carotid Artery Revascularization. I scrubbed it all with confidence and it was empowering, that I belong here. Here in the OR. There’s something powerful about being stretched and realizing you’re succeeding.

And then there was a day with my girl Victoria amidst it all. Sunshine, that crisp spring air, wandering farmers markets like we had all the time in the world. Eating lunch, talking about everything and nothing, and watching our show like no time had passed at all. Those friendships—the easy, life-giving ones—are such a gift. She is such a gift. It’s the kind of bond that feel like exhaling and settling in sisterhood.

And through all of it, every flight, every transition, every single mile… God covered it. Protected it. Smoothed the edges of what could have been stressful or overwhelming. There’s no other way to say it—I felt His hand in all of it.

The good doesn’t always come in quiet seasons. Sometimes it shows up right in the middle of the chaos, asking you to notice it anyway.

And right now, I do.