Love and Life with Lisa 🌹

Come, come… sit with me. 2025 is coming to an end, and a new season is about to begin. Before I look ahead to 2026, I want to pause and reflect — because this year changed me. 2025 was a year of courage. A year of stepping out of my comfort zone. A year of being seen. And this… this is my truth. For a long time, I lived in the shadows — and if I’m being honest, I was very comfortable there. But I kept feeling this gentle nudge to come out… to do something more. I laughed and said, “Nope. Not happening.” And yet… it did happen. I once wrote about listening to the nudge in my November 12 blog but I never shared what that nudge actually was. So here it is. The nudge was this blog. Starting it was one of the best things I have ever done for me. I’m no longer hiding in the shadows, but the nudges haven’t stopped. It tells me there are so many people who feel unseen. But I see you. And when I say, “Come, come… sit with me,...

Come, come sit with me… All week this memory has been sitting quietly in my soul. I kept asking myself, why? Why now? Why this moment? I can remember it so clearly. I was in my twenties, talking to my mom about being lonely. I told her that when I felt lonely, I would hug my pillow at night and talk to the four walls but the walls never answered back. I said it almost casually, but it wasn’t casual at all. Then I told her she was lucky. Lucky because she was married. Lucky because she had someone to roll over and hug at night. Lucky because she wasn’t alone. She was quiet for a moment. Then she said softly, “Baby, you can be married and still be lonely.” I laughed and said, “No you can’t.” That was me — naive in my twenties, certain I understood loneliness because I had felt it one way. I understand now what she was trying to tell me. I believe that at one point in her marriage to my dad, my mom felt that kind of loneliness. But like so many things, she didn’t c...

Come, come sit with me… Today is Christmas Eve, and I thought I would share another one of my memories. As a child, I loved Christmas. I would get so excited I could hardly sleep. My parents used to say, “If you don’t go to sleep, Santa can’t come.” And I believed them… sort of. 😄 I was so excited that I woke the whole house up at 5 a.m. so we could open gifts. I’m sure my parents were not impressed, but they laughed and we all got up anyway. My face lit up at everything. And if I’m being honest, my parents didn’t have a lot of money. But Christmas was still so special — because we were together. Every year, they always made sure there was a family gift , something we could all play with together. That was the real gift. Family time. And then let me tell you about the food — oh my God, the food . This is probably where I first became a foodie… 😂 My mother, bless her heart, could cook . Mmm, child. We had turkey, stuffing (which was always my favorite), ham, ...

Come, come sit with me… I know I may have said this before, but some truths need to be whispered more than once. Words. The ones we say quickly. The ones we never should’ve said at all. The ones that heal… and the ones that wound. In the world we live in today, I think we forget just how powerful our words really are. A single sentence can build someone up in a heartbeat — and another can tear them down just as fast. Sometimes, in the heat of a moment, we say things we don’t mean. Sharp things. Careless things. Words that fly out before our hearts can catch them. And when the moment passes, we’re left looking at the pieces of someone’s heart… wishing we could gather them all up and mend what we broke. Wounds from words don’t just vanish. They may scar over, yes — but scars remember. And every new hurt has the power to reopen what was once barely healed. Because here’s the truth: Words don’t disappear. They echo. And the echo often lasts longer than the mo...

Come, come sit with me… I heard a quote the other day that hit me straight between the eyes: “Stop fighting for someone who is okay with losing you.” And listen… this isn’t just about romance. This is about friendship. This is about family. This is about anyone you’ve poured into while they gave you crumbs back. Sometimes we hang on so tight, thinking: “If I give more, they’ll finally show up for me.” “If I’m always there, one day they’ll be there for me too.” “If I keep proving my loyalty, they’ll realize my value.” But the truth? If someone is truly okay with losing you, no amount of giving will change that. You can’t teach someone to value what they’ve already decided to take for granted. And hun… we deserve to be valued. Here’s My Truth… I have hung on too tight before — to friendships, to romantic love, to connections I thought would grow if I just held on a little longer. I gave more. I stayed longer. I carried the weight of relationships that ...

Come, come sit with me… Today we’re going down memory lane, and I’ll be honest with you — this one is a little sad. I’m thinking about my dad. He’s no longer with us, but my God… what he gave us kids was something wonderful. My dad loved to laugh. Not a quiet laugh — a full, rich, room-shaking laugh that made you laugh even when you didn’t want to. I get that from him — the joy, the humor, the way I can find light even in heavy moments. That’s all him. And maybe that’s why he’s been on my heart today. Because the holidays are here, and my dad loved having us kids and grandkids around him. He lived for those moments — the noise, the stories, the teasing, the love filling the room. He would sit back and smile like, “Yep… this is my family. This is my joy.” And today, I miss that smile. The Moment That Stayed With Me When I lost my dad, it happened quick. So quick that my heart didn’t even have time to prepare. But there is a moment — a small, quiet, sacred moment...

Come, come sit with me… Let’s talk about something that’s been on my heart lately — something simple, but powerful: the beauty of being an original. Somewhere along the way, most of us learned how to shape-shift. To blend in. To dim our own colors. To try on versions of other people — their confidence, their voices, their success — hoping it would fit us too. But here’s the quiet truth I’ve discovered on my own journey: You can’t shine wearing someone else’s identity. It never fits right. It never feels natural. And it never brings peace. What does bring peace? Returning to who you were always meant to be. Not perfect. Not polished. Just authentically, beautifully you. A Moment of Clarity Recently I realized how often we, as people, try to model ourselves after others. We compare. We copy. We chase trends, expectations, and timelines that were never meant for us. But the truth is this: You were created with intention. Your ...