Rooted in faith. Still becoming.
Wife. Mom. Farmer. I've spent years building alongside my husband — in the business, in the marriage, in my life — and figuring out who God made me to be in the middle of all of it.
Shaped by accumulation.
I didn't have one defining moment that changed everything. My story is built from many seasons — the farm, the marriage, the business, the hard chapters, the ones that broke me open and the ones that rebuilt me. Faith has been the thread through all of it. Not because it was easy to hold onto, but because it held onto me.
I came alongside Chris and his business before we were married. I know what it is to be deeply invested in something before it's officially yours. To carry the work, the wins, the hard seasons, without a clear word for your role in it.
I stepped away from the business when we adopted our daughter to be fully present for her. That season taught me more about what it means to be an ezer than anything I've done in a leadership meeting. Strength doesn't have to be loud. It shows up where it's needed, whether anyone is watching or not.
I've had seasons where I knew exactly who I was and seasons where I lost track of her entirely. I've done the work of figuring out the difference between the woman I was performing and the woman God actually made. That work is ongoing. And it is the most important thing I do.
I'm approaching 50 and the most clear-eyed I've ever been — not about what I'm doing, but about who God made me to be.
To show up more fully for the people
He placed in my care.
Life on the farm.
Chris and I share a life on our regenerative farm in Tennessee with our family, our animals, and more bees than I can count. The farm is not a backdrop — it is a teacher.
We raise A2/A2 Jersey cows for raw milk, sheep, chickens, and bees. It is regenerative, intentional, and nothing like I planned. We built it one season at a time and it has shaped us more than we shaped it.
You learn quickly on a farm that strength isn't loud. It's steady. It shows up every day whether anyone is watching or not. The rhythms of this land have taught me more about what it means to be an ezer than anything else.
Real food. Slow living. Connection to the land and to what actually matters. This is the life we are building — together.
The lens for everything.
I found God early. But there's a difference between knowing about Him and being known by Him.
In 2018 I stood on holy ground in Israel — literally. In the places where the patriarchs are buried, where David fought Goliath, where Yeshua - Jesus - walked and sat and spoke. I went as one person and came home as someone else.
Not because I had a dramatic revelation. Because I finally laid something down.
For years I had been striving in my own strength. Building my own cisterns, as Jeremiah 2 calls it — doing things my way, carrying my own picture of how life was supposed to go, exhausted by the weight of it. And in that ancient place, God spoke very clearly. This is you. You keep trying to do it your way. See the cracks?
I had to choose to let go. And when I did, He walked me out. Out of the wilderness. Into the light. On His word. On His promise.
That's the faith I carry into everything — into the marriage, the farm, the business, this show. Not a faith that has it all figured out. A faith that has been broken open and rebuilt by the hands of a God who never once let go.
He didn't leave me there. He never does.
Honesty is the vehicle.
You are exactly who I built this for.
What I've spent
years doing.
I came alongside Chris and his leadership business before we were married and have been part of it in every season since. What that looked like has changed depending on what was needed — and that flexibility has taught me as much as anything else about what it means to build something together.
I've been on stage at events and behind the scenes in strategy. I've written and shaped messaging, supported launches, and been in the room for hard conversations. I've held things together when the business was hard and celebrated loudly when it wasn't.
I stepped away for a season when we adopted our daughter — fully, intentionally, without apology. That was the right call and I'd make it again. Being a mom is not a detour from building. It is building. Just a different kind.
Over the years the conversations have been the same. At every event, in every hallway, I kept meeting the same woman. She loves her husband. She's deeply invested in what they're building. And she's quietly wondering what God might be building in her.
That's why Built Together exists.
Start with the Ezer Guide.
A free PDF on what it actually means to be an ezer kenegdo. When you understand this word, you will never see yourself the same way again.
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