I am not your pastor. I am not your grandma’s devotional writer. I am a fancy f*ck up who has tasted wreckage and found grace in the ruins. Addiction recovery, sexual trauma, rebellion — these are not disqualifiers. They are the soil where mercy grows wild.

Here, Reiki and breathwork sit beside prayer and scripture. Here, addiction stories are holy testimonies. Here, broken halos shine brighter than polished crowns. Because grace isn’t reserved for the perfect — it’s poured out on the wreckage, the outlaws, the ones who dare to believe love is bigger than shame.

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