When you face life and tears show up, that’s vulnerability—being raw, open, and honest.

(Age 3)

I remember the first time I truly felt that kind of rawness. It was while I was writing my book. I felt like I was exposing so much of myself—my thoughts, my experiences, my inner world—placing my brain on paper. I worried people would stare, judge, or misunderstand. And yet, underneath that fear, there was a deep confidence bone holding me up—a knowing. A truth built from over 30 years of practice, devotion, and lived experience.

(Age 2)

I look back at myself as a little girl—so innocent. All I wanted was to be barefoot in the grass, a hat on my head, decorating flowers in the house. That was it. That was the dream.

 

(Age 5)

I couldn’t wait to graduate from high school because I hated school. I didn’t want structure or rules—I wanted to play, create, decorate, and live in beauty.

(Age 18)

As I got older, success came quickly, but not freely. It came with sacrifice. I let go of relationships, friendships, parties, and socializing—because I had to get up early, go to work, and stay focused. Sometimes I’d be out late, but I’d still wake up early because responsibility mattered to me.

(Age 19)

I worked countless hours, countless days. I’d go to the flower market at four in the morning. I’d drive to farms daily during Covid. My hands were so beaten up some days I couldn’t even close them—stained, sore, worn down for days at a time.

(Age 21)

I cultivated something sacred.

(Age 21)

My job became my second home. I love it so much that coming to work feels comforting. Some days are insanely busy—I don’t eat, I stand every minute, every second accounted for. Other days allow me space to breathe, to work through my to-do list, to connect more deeply with my clients.

(Age 40)

I am one of the hardest workers I know. I remember opening two stores while holding my son on my hip, designing on set for 90210.

(Age 43)

People look at me today and assume something was handed to me—that my parents gave me money, that this was a family business. But when I look around now, everything I see is what I earned. Nothing came easy. It came with tossing and turning, stress, extra events to cover expenses, hiring and firing, and pouring out endless energy.

(Age 44)

What I recognize now is that my flower shop is a prayer.

The flowers carry intention.

The clients—whether they come for one day or for years—are connections I don’t take lightly.

Every day I pray, not knowing how the day will unfold. Yes, I may see the calendar: 20 centerpieces on Saturday, a funeral on Friday, two babies arriving today, and another service tomorrow. But as I work with December’s theme of stillness, I’m learning to get very quiet.

And in that quiet, I hear differently.

Sometimes you’ll catch me at work talking to a client, and I’ll start to tear up—not because I’m sad, but because my heart is like a harp and the strings are being played. It’s an emotional charge. Everything is vibration, and I’m constantly aligning—strength, release, gratitude, stillness.

The more I trust God and the universe, the more I surrender. The more I surrender, the more I understand that I have no control over life—only over who I choose to be within it.

I remember during an interview—maybe HBO—someone said, “Just be yourself.”

I replied, “That’s easy. I know who I am.”

God prepares you for things you can’t imagine. Sometimes you have to let go. Sometimes you have to release. Sometimes you have to break down walls. Sometimes you have to be insanely patient.

But when you practice praying…

When you practice surrendering to the unknown…

When you soften the ego, say thank you, and truly see the blessings…

Something higher happens.

Quiet becomes comfortable.

The noise fades.

Stillness becomes a place you can rest.

And in that stillness, you can finally ask yourself: What do I really want?

For me, it’s trust.

And the most important person I want to trust… is myself.

(Age 45)

When I believe in myself, my wings expand. I can fly in any direction.

So the next time you’re having a moment, know this: it passes.

 

 

(Age 45)

Flowers come into your life for a reason—to honor you, celebrate you, heal you, love you. You are meant to have flowers around you to remind you of energy, intention, and connection.

You can’t heal without doing the work.

You can’t open your heart if you don’t speak to it.

This is an inside job.

(Age 45)

Surround yourself with high-vibrational people. Some of them may scare you. Some may shake the ground beneath you and make you want to run—but they will also keep you aligned. Those are the friends you call. The ones you rely on. The ones who love you and check you.

That’s family. You never know when an angel will land in front of you.

When they do—don’t let them go.