- Sep 9
- 3 min read

Six years ago, my world was turned upside down. Just as I had uprooted everything that felt familiar and grounding — my lifelong home in New Jersey, my 22-year career, and the daily presence of my parents, brothers, nieces, and nephews, family and friends — I received a diagnosis that would create a massive shift in "plans": breast cancer. My kids were nine and eight. You can imagine the terror.
The move to Texas was meant to support a career opportunity for my husband, but as we unpacked boxes and tried to adjust to new surroundings, we had a whole world of newness to navigate.
“Surrender More?”
When I heard my diagnosis, my immediate thought was: Surrender more? Hadn’t I already surrendered enough? I had left behind the comfort of my roots, my career identity, my extended family, my community...and now I had to surrender to surgery, let go of parts of my body, release control more fully.
Now, facing cancer in an unfamiliar place, I couldn’t help but question:
✨ Why here?
✨ Why now?
✨ What am I supposed to learn by walking through this in a place so far from home?
I couldn’t believe this was the path in front of me. But as the months unfolded, the insights began to arrive — quietly, steadily, and with deep wisdom.
What Acceptance Really Means
Through this journey, I came to understand that acceptance doesn’t mean apathy. It isn’t resignation, nor is it giving up or sitting back while life steamrolls over us. True acceptance is a practice of presence. It’s seeing clearly from a place of calm, rather than reacting from fear or resistance. It’s knowing when to act and when to let go, honoring the natural rhythms of life instead of forcing or fighting against them. Acceptance is the quiet strength of meeting reality as it is—with openness, curiosity, and trust—so that we can respond in ways that are aligned, wise, and compassionate.
Ultimately, at that point in my life, acceptance looked like:
🌸 Trusting that I had already been practicing surrender, and that this challenge was one I was more prepared for than I realized.
🌸 Realizing I was meant to be cared for here, in Texas, by an incredible team of four extraordinary women who guided me to health.
🌸 Finding gorgeous moments of connection, courage, and vulnerability with my young children.
🌸 Receiving visits from my loved ones — who filled my new home with their love and energy, blessing this unfamiliar place in ways I could never have orchestrated myself.
🌸 Learning how to receive, fully and deeply, in a way I had never allowed myself before.
🌸 Home is within me, so whether I confronted cancer here or in New Jersey, it really didn't matter because my heart is my home.

Six Years Later
Surrender didn’t mean giving up. It meant softening. It meant allowing myself to be curious about what might be possible, even inside of circumstances I never would have chosen. It meant staying open to life, even as it unfolded in ways I didn’t understand. And in that opening, healing could happen — not just in my body, but in my heart.
As I stand here now, six years later, I hold these truths close:
✨ Acceptance is strength.
✨ Surrender is courage.
✨ Receiving is as powerful as giving.
This journey has shown me that when we stop fighting reality, we free up energy to heal, to love, and to grow. Acceptance doesn’t mean apathy. It means seeing clearly, standing in calm, and moving forward with wisdom.
Invitation to Practice
If you find yourself in a season of uncertainty or challenge, I invite you to pause and reflect:
Close your eyes and breathe deeply. Let yourself feel the ground beneath you.
Remind yourself: I am here. I am safe. I can meet this moment as it is.
Journal Prompts:
Where in my life am I being invited to accept something as it is, without resistance?
How might acceptance open the door to clarity, calm, or even possibility?
What’s one way I can soften today, instead of fighting against what I can’t control?
Affirmation: Write one sentence that reminds you of your inner strength.
(For example: “Acceptance makes me strong. I can meet life as it is, with courage and calm.”)





