When Purpose and Parenthood Collide (and Why I Stopped Fearing It)

I had my daughter a little over nine years ago, right in the middle of a major shift in my calling. Up until then, my public voice was rooted in telling my story about teen pregnancy, toxic relationships, and the scars I survived. It served a purpose, but I was tired. Tired of bleeding publicly. Tired of carrying the weight of a testimony that had healed but kept being reopened for consumption.

Around that time, I sensed God testing the posture of my heart.
Would I still obey if the only thing He asked of me was to keep sharing my scars?

When I finally settled into the reality that obedience might mean staying there, humble, vulnerable, and exposed, everything changed. Invitations started coming in to teach what God was showing me in real time instead of only what I had survived. Revelation replaced repetition. Insight replaced injury.

And then I got pregnant.

Like so many women, I worried that pregnancy, recovery, and early infancy would slow down the purpose I had just begun to embrace. What I know now that I did not know then is simple and liberating:

Nothing can slow down God’s appointed time.

Motherhood did not pause my purpose. It clarified it.
It slowed ambition just enough for vision to catch up.

That season still speaks to me whenever FOMP shows up. FOMP is my reminder that purpose is not fragile and destiny does not require panic. I have been offered seats at powerful tables, partnerships that could scale the vision quickly, and opportunities that looked like the next level on paper. Yet I have said no more than I have said yes. Not because I lack drive, but because they conflicted with the kind of mother I am choosing to be.

I want my girls to remember that I was home more than I was gone.
That I did not just provide for them, but knew them.
That they were never an afterthought to my ambition.

Some people call this gentle parenting, but my studies in Human Development and Family Studies taught me that it is simply authoritative parenting. It is a commitment to know your children so you can help them understand the world they are growing up in.

As for my work, taking a slower and more intentional path has shown me that rapid growth is often brittle. God builds you in seasons, not spikes. Roots do not grow overnight. They deepen over time, under pressure, and through pruning.

I have told God about the generational curses I want to break in the areas of wellness, parenting, integrity, and righteousness. He has told me about the places He intends to position me. I do not believe He will ask me to sacrifice one for the other. So when I feel tension between opportunity and obedience, I choose the road that keeps my ego in check.

I know what it feels like to battle insecurity and the need for acceptance.
Attention can feel addictive when you have been overlooked.
Visibility can feel tempting when you have been dismissed.

So I choose the path that does not chase the spotlight. I want to be light rather than consume it.

And maybe you are not a mother. Maybe your story is entirely different. But you might be standing in a moment where you feel conflicted about what to pursue. You might be trying to understand whether you are being delayed or being developed.

Here is the filter I use.
Choose the option that requires more of God than it does of you.
Your obedience will never delay your destiny. Your impatience might.

Last week, I was invited to speak at the Hope Global Forum on Black media, wealth, and ownership. Sharing the platform with Stephen A. Smith, Charlamagne, and Byron Allen was no small thing. I prepared. I prayed. I gave the moment the strength it required.

Then I flew straight home.

Because more than a founder, leader, pastor, or emerging voice,
I am a mother who promised her daughters she would kiss them goodnight.

Purpose has room for that. Destiny is not threatened by that. And true obedience makes sure you never forget who you are becoming while you pursue what you are building.