There are a lot of exciting things happening in my life right now – and honestly, I feel incredibly blessed. Grateful in ways I can’t always put into words.
One of the biggest things I’m currently working on is buying a home. And let me just say – it’s about time!
As the kids and I were out looking, walking through home after home, I stumbled across this old farm house that had been beautifully restored – and immediately, my heart attached to it.
Of course, right? That’s so me.
I don’t need brand new. I don’t need shiny and perfect. Give me something that’s been through some life – that’s been gently worked on, loved back into beauty – and I am one happy girl.
My kids, on the other hand, were quick to point out the flaws:
“Mom, the floors are slanted.”
“The door frames are uneven.”
“That attic is ancient!”
But me? I looked at those imperfections and I saw character. I saw a home that carried stories. I saw something that was redeemed. Something that had endured. And instead of feeling like those flaws were problems, I felt like they were part of what made the house beautiful.
I didn’t see what was wrong – I saw what had been made right.
Standing there, I could already picture grandkids running down the stairs from that old attic, laughter bouncing through the sunroom, family gathered around warm meals. My heart whispered: this is home.
And as always, these moments have a way of mirroring my passion for relationships.
Because this is exactly how I view people. How I view relationships. How I view healing.
I love it when people are restored – when relationships are repaired – when something broken isn’t just thrown away, but instead, is patiently, intentionally, lovingly rebuilt.
There’s something sacred about redemption. About doing the work to bring something back to life.
When we restore something, it’s not about pretending it was never broken. It’s about honoring its story. It’s about saying: Yes, you’ve been through some things. But you’re still here. You’re still worthy of love.
And maybe even stronger for it.
But here’s the truth I live and coach by:
Restoration requires accountability.
Not everything gets to stay.
Not everything should stay.
You cannot restore something fully while still holding on to the very things that broke it in the first place. You have to clear out the junk – the lies, the patterns, the defensiveness, the lack of ownership – all the things that cloud your ability to see clearly.
You can’t heal a relationship if you’re unwilling to acknowledge where harm was done.
You can’t rebuild trust if you’re not willing to sit with your failures and own your part.
You can’t love someone deeply if you refuse to understand how your actions impacted their heart.
That’s what restoration really is:
It’s clearing out the rot so beauty can rise again.
It’s choosing honesty over comfort.
It’s choosing growth over pride.
In relationships, as in old homes, the beauty isn’t in perfection – it’s in the care. The ongoing work. The maintenance. The willingness to say, this matters enough to keep working on it.
Healthy relationships aren’t built on perfection.
They’re built on accountability.
And when you get to that place – when both people are willing to do the work – restoration becomes possible. Beautiful. Lasting.
That old farm house reminded me of everything I love about the work I do: helping people see that redemption is possible – but only through truth, responsibility, and a deep commitment to healing the right way.
Restored. Not perfect. But oh, so beautiful.
xoxox J
Journey Coaching 
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