There is a whole world outside my window.
I grew up outside Chicago, surrounded by family. I remember warm summers, family gatherings, good food, laughter, and a city that always seemed to be moving.
As a little girl, I would look outside the window and think: there is a whole world out there.
I didn’t know exactly where life would take me. I just knew there had to be more to discover.
Before I understood purpose, calling, or becoming, I understood family. Family gave me roots — and those roots would matter more than I knew.
The unfolding journey that gets better and better.
At eighteen, I didn’t have a perfect answer for what I wanted to become. I considered different careers, possibilities, and versions of the future. Then, at nineteen, life introduced me to a role that would shape me in ways I couldn’t yet imagine.
Motherhood began teaching me something life would repeat again and again: I didn’t have to know everything about the road ahead to take responsibility for what had been placed in my hands. Faith was rising within me as I learned to trust God with what I couldn’t yet see, while giving my best to what was already in front of me.
And my girls—what a joy they have been. They have brought so much love, laughter, meaning, and color into my life. Motherhood hasn’t just been something I’ve poured myself into; it has poured so much back into me. Watching them grow while growing alongside them has been one of the greatest gifts of my life.
Navigating Seasons
Some of my most challenging seasons were of hurt, betrayal, disappointment, struggle, confusion, and loss. Relationships changed. Priorities changed. Perspective changed. Life changed.
And somewhere in the middle of it all, I changed too.
When I had my youngest, I was in one of those seasons. Life didn’t look or feel the way I had imagined. Yet looking back, I can see I was right where I needed to be for growth. I leaned into God and grew in wholeness, confidence, grace, wisdom, and identity.
I learned how to keep moving forward without having every answer, how to release things without receiving the closure that I wanted, and how to keep a good heart without growing in bitterness.
Looking back, I can see that life wasn’t simply changing around me. I was being refined.
I’m exceedingly grateful for my community—and I learned to deeply cherish the people who showed up, stood beside me, watered my garden, and reminded me that I didn’t have to navigate every season alone. 🤍
When the pain runs deeper than tears.
Losing my dad was one of those losses that changed something in me.
My dad was a light to so many people. He had this extraordinary gift on the piano and a beautiful way of bringing joy into a room and into the lives of the people around him. But beyond the joy he brought, he gave me something I still carry—faith in God and an optimistic mindset.
Some losses aren’t something you neatly “get over.” You learn how to carry the love alongside the ache. Grief has taught me that losing someone doesn’t mean losing everything they gave you, and their imprint can show up in the way you live.
So, in light of his passing, I’m reminded of just how brief our days on earth really are…and how important it is to live them intentionally, love deeply, and move through life with a greater sense of purpose.
🤍
39 was good to me.
Before my 39th birthday, I had come through a season marked by uncertainty, struggle, hardship, and some unusual challenges. But in the midst of it, something shifted.
During that season, a mentor reminded me of two simple truths: “There’s always a way out,” and “There’s always more.” Those words awakened a deeper resilience and challenged me to believe that difficult circumstances didn’t have to become permanent realities.
So I began choosing a life designed with intention rather than one lived by default. I became more deliberate about what I wanted my life to feel like, what I gave my energy to, the experiences I wanted to create, and the memories I wanted to make. I also leaned into rewiring my mind because I now understand that you can never rise above your current thought level.
39 became one of the most enjoyable, phenomenal, blessed, beautiful years of my life. I realized that a hard chapter doesn’t get to write the entire story. There is still room for joy after disappointment, possibility after uncertainty, and beautiful experiences after seasons that made you wonder what was ahead.
A beautiful life isn’t something you simply wait for; it’s something you intentionally create.
Havanna’s Philosophies
There’s more behind every line. Tap to explore.
Beautiful things can be growing in your life while envy, bitterness, resentment, and offense quietly take root beside them. Pay attention to what is growing in the soil of your heart.
Pluck the weeds quickly. Protect the flowers.
But first, it starts in the mind.
No matter what you’re going through, begin with the belief that life can get better—and start aligning your thoughts, choices, and actions with that possibility.
A difficult moment in time is just that—a moment. It does not have the authority to define your destiny.
The disagreement. The criticism. The rejection. Not everything directed at you deserves to be internalized by you.
With valuable relationships, communicate clearly, address what matters, and set healthy boundaries, but don’t carry what was meant for the moment. Deal with what happened, learn from it, but decide not to let that moment follow you into tomorrow.
You sense it. You see it. You know it. Stop doubting the version of yourself you already know you’re called to become. Don’t wait for the perfect moment, the title, the opportunity, or someone else’s permission to step into her.
Future you is waiting. Become her now.
Lean into the transformation. Lean into the mentoring. Lean into the moments that challenge you to grow.
Don’t resist every uncomfortable season. Discomfort often reveals what needs to grow, what needs to change, and what needs to be stripped away.
Mind. Body. Spirit. Soul. That’s true prosperity.
Your next life will require you to break agreement with thoughts, habits, fears, and patterns that keep producing the same life.
You may not always know the impact you have on someone’s life. So love generously. Encourage freely. Show up when it matters. Make people feel seen, valued, and respected.
The heart can be deceptive. Feelings provide information, but they don’t always provide direction. Let divine wisdom govern what emotion wants to decide.
I’ve learned not to measure God’s goodness solely by what I have or how comfortably life unfolds. His goodness has been peace in the storm, presence when I felt alone, and strength when life felt uncertain.
What I’ve lost or gone without could never compare to the goodness of God revealed in my life.
He is kind. He restores. He redeems. And He remains.
There is more.
Forty isn’t simply a new age; it’s an invitation to become a better, more refined version of myself.
To follow God’s leading, let wisdom in, speak with clarity and compassion, serve people well, love deeply, remain curious, grow gracefully, and continue becoming.
At 40, I’m ready for more of what makes life rich, whole, and meaningful.
That little girl was right.
There really was a whole world outside her window.
She just didn’t know that discovering the world would also mean discovering herself.