Unfinished But Undaunted: Claiming The Next Chapter

This quote has always resonated deeply with me, but lately, it feels more personal than ever. It’s so easy to fall into the trap of believing the window for our dreams has closed, or that past mistakes and circumstances mean change isn't possible. One thing I’ve learned is, while some opportunities do pass us by, the most important transformations - the ones that happen inside us - are never out of reach.

I’ve faced a lot of moments in my life where I thought it was “too late.” Too late to repair relationships. Too late to recover from setbacks. Too late to become the person I hoped to be. Maybe I'm too old, too broken, too stuck. Not quite smart enough?

I love that despite all those things, time has a way of teaching us that the story isn’t over until we decide it is.

I have lived forty very long years on this earth, with far more than my fair share of traumatic experience - and in those years, the idea of “too late” has often felt painfully real. I’ve experienced estrangement, heartbreak, and moments where the weight of past choices or the limitations of disability seemed impossible to overcome.

For example, something that is too late: my relationship with my father is something I’ll never be able to mend. We were estranged for the last decade of his life, and I often felt incredible sorrow over the divide between us. I struggled with guilt too; he was my father, my childhood hero, and I wondered if I should have been the one to bridge the gap. He was my father - but I was no longer a child, and I often struggled with the idea that I needed to step up and be the bigger person.

But then my mother passed away in 2019, and any semblance of lingering guilt disappeared. In the days after her death, he reached out to my brothers to comfort them in their grief - but not me. Not even a word. One of my brothers wasn't even her son, and my father's silence in those days severed something in me that no amount of time would heal. Through the pain and the shock of those moments, I realized it wasn’t my job to carry the weight of our broken relationship anymore.

Still, letting go of that guilt didn’t mean the pain disappeared. My father died in 2020, and with him gone from this life there's a good chance that I will always feel like a rejected daughter; I will always struggle with the parts of me that are handed down from the worst of him.

It has taken years of reflection, prayer, and self-compassion to find peace with those feelings - but over the years, I've learned that while it may be too late to heal that relationship, it’s not too late to heal myself.

It’s not too late to let go of toxic patterns, choose compassion for both of us, and move forward.

The funny thing about the best lessons in life is that they usually apply in almost universal ways, and this lesson applies to my writing journey as well. In 2013, I was in the middle of stepping into my greatest and most terrifying calling in life; I was building momentum, publishing novels, and growing fast as an author.

Then in 2014, life intervened in ways I couldn’t ignore. My children needed me to prioritize caring and advocating for them, so writing had to take a back seat. Not writing felt like having a part of my soul unexpectedly amputated, and year after year, I tried to get back to it only to be derailed by new challenges - moving, health problems, the deaths of my parents. Covid. Marriage. Divorce. Big things, big complications that left me feeling like I had been away too long, lost my readership, lost my momentum. Lost the point, perhaps.

For a long time, I felt like writing was behind me, like the door was slammed shut, and I grieved the loss as honestly and deeply as if I'd lost some vital part of my life and my self - because I had.

But then I remembered: if I’m still alive, it’s not too late. Coming back to the keyboard, the blank screen, the chapters still waiting to be written - even after such a long hiatus - has been more than a comeback effort. It's the reclaiming of my own truest self.

And now, as I approach the completion of STILL FIGHTING FOR FREEDOM...as I soak in the excitement of finishing Christine's story with honor and skill and a reflection of my own growth in the time since her story began...I'm more determined than ever to prove that it’s never too late to chase the dreams that set your soul on fire.

Life has a way of convincing us the windows of opportunity are smaller than they really are, but...please let these words soak in: it’s rarely too late to start again. You may need to take different steps than you would have years ago, but those steps are no less meaningful, no less worthwhile. Starting over takes courage, but every step forward reaffirms that you’re not defined by what’s behind you. If you're still alive, then you are not trapped by the choices you didn’t make or the chances you didn’t take.

Wherever you are right now, let me encourage you to pause and ask yourself: What dream have I left sitting for too long? And what step can I take toward it today? Maybe it’s a creative project you’ve abandoned, a relationship you're longing to mend, or a passion you’ve been too afraid to pursue. Whatever it is, remember that if you're still here, it’s not too late.

Life will always be filled with obstacles. There will always be reasons to wait, or doubts about whether you’re ready to move forward on something. But you'll never know what might have happened unless you try, and as long as you’re alive, there’s still time to become who you might have been - whoever you want to be. So take that step, trust the process, and always...