Five years ago, in the middle of a world flipped upside down by a global pandemic, I found myself meditating on Psalm 1. In the quiet of quarantine, an image took root in my soul—of a willow tree planted by streams of water. Her leaves were lush, unbothered by drought. Her roots went deep. She bore fruit in her season and lived in step with the Source. I sensed the Lord inviting me into that same rhythm of rootedness. Out of that moment came an acronym that captured my calling: WILLOW—Woman Investing in Learning and Leading Other Women.
It wasn’t just poetic. It was a path. God was stirring a deeper desire in me—not just to serve, teach, or plan, but to sit. To pause. To listen. To be with Him.
The journey wasn't a straight line. I wrestled with discouragement, confusion, even identity loss. There were seasons when roles shifted or doors quietly closed. I questioned whether my work mattered. But God was planting something that no man could uproot. Even when some ministry initiatives faded, the fruit lingered: discipleship relationships, spiritual hunger, women longing for more than the busy shuffle of doing—they wanted to dwell.
And so did I.
Through prayer, scripture, and deep personal reflection—especially on the story of Mary and Martha—I came face to face with Jesus’ gentle rebuke: “You are worried and troubled about many things, but only one thing is necessary.” I had spent years doing good things, even godly things, but I had let the noise drown out the whisper.
That realization began a transformation. I gave myself permission to seek the “one thing.” I stepped away from the need for striving and into silence. I began attending silent retreats, simply to sit in the presence of God. No performance. No pressure. Just me and the Father. My prayers became less about speaking and more about listening.
That stillness birthed clarity.
I began to see the same ache in the women I counseled: anxiety, heartbreak, exhaustion, spiritual disconnection. I could almost hear the Shepherd saying, “They are harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.” These women—whether new in faith or seasoned believers—were parched for peace, starved for intimacy with God. And they didn’t know how to be still long enough to receive it.
That’s when Selah Retreats was born.
Selah is a sacred pause. A rest. A deliberate moment to break from the chaos and turn toward the One who restores our souls. At Selah Retreats, we create space for women to slow down, silence the noise, and seek God’s presence through guided solitude, Scripture meditation, and reverent stillness.
We hosted our first Selah Day on May 23rd. Seven women were invited. Within ten minutes, six said yes. The response was immediate, but more than that—it was hungry. These women longed for time away from the world’s demands to simply sit at the feet of Jesus.
And that’s the mission of Selah Retreats: to lead women to the “one thing” Jesus said is necessary. To offer a sacred space where rest is not idleness but intimacy. Where silence is not emptiness but invitation. Where we are reminded that we are not what we produce—we are the beloved.
In the stillness, something remarkable happens: the Word becomes alive again. The heart softens. The Spirit speaks. And joy returns.
Selah is not just about retreating from the world. It’s about recalibrating our souls to the rhythm of heaven. It’s about learning to listen again. And once you’ve heard Him in the quiet, you’ll never be satisfied with the noise again.
Today, I’m walking in a new season of purpose—not defined by position or title, but by obedience and surrender. I don’t know exactly what’s ahead. But my “yes” is on the table.
I believe with all my heart that the path God has shown me was never meant to be walked alone. I intend to lead other women down that same path—for as long as I am able.
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