Embracing Resistance
Rooted Enough to Stay
The last week has been a master class in calming my nervous system.
Learning when to show up and when to rest—when to say, I can help and when to conserve my energy—has always been a challenge for me. When I was younger, adrenaline carried me. Now, my body is much quicker to let me know when it cannot tolerate life as it is any longer.
The real work of justice requires energy, time, sacrifice, and vision.
And it also requires someone who is rooted and grounded in their gifting and capacity.
I know myself well enough to admit this: I go into task mode when there is an emergency. Put me in charge of making order out of chaos—I’m there. It’s not hard for me to stay level-headed in acute moments.
But sustained, countercultural work without rhythms of rest and recovery?
That does me in over time.
Sustainable movements require sustainable bodies.
Twice in my life, I have experienced real burnout. Physical. Emotional. Spiritual depletion from pushing myself beyond my capacity. Learning to listen to my body—and trust it when it tells me to slow down—has been a long, humbling lesson.
This past May, I hit one of those walls.
I was carrying too many roles at work, supporting a child who was struggling mentally, emotionally, and academically, and managing the everyday realities of life with three kids. Trusted mentors and friends grew concerned. They gently told me that if I didn’t make changes, I would break.
I didn’t want to break.
I wanted to have the capacity to love my family well, serve my community, and contribute meaningfully to our home. That led me to leave my job—not knowing what would come next or how the financial gaps would be filled.
It was not a quick or light decision.
In the months since, I’ve been regrouping. Asking God, What is mine to hold? I applied for jobs. Some didn’t respond. Others weren’t the right fit. And underneath it all, there was a growing sense that the work I was meant to carry is what is becoming Rooted Mosaic.
Life has given me a set of cross-cultural and anti-racist experiences that can serve this moment. I sensed I was being asked to prepare.
It is not lost on me that my launch was scheduled for January 2026—at the same time a major ICE surge began unfolding in Minneapolis, right in my neighborhood.
Every day I am being invited back into the same grounding question:
What is mine to hold today?
My task-mode orientation has been helpful—buying groceries for vulnerable neighbors, driving kids to school so parents can stay safe, connecting families to medical support when they are sheltering in place.
But my shadow side—the part of me that forgets her limits—is there too. I’m learning to recognize her sooner. To pause before depletion sets in.
This past weekend, I pulled back.
I went to the Singing Resistance event and let myself receive the healing beauty of collective song. A dear friend gifted me a massage. I rested.
These practices are not indulgent. They are necessary.
They are what allow me to stay in the work—to resist, to pursue justice, to love my family and my neighbor well.
Take in the beauty from last night’s songs. Let them remind you that resistance is not only protest. It is also presence. It is joy. It is breath.
Let beauty fuel both your work and your rest.
Again, sustainable movements require sustainable people.
If you’re longing to build that kind of sustainability in your own life and leadership, my Learning Circle, Now That I See: From Awareness to Accountable Action, is now open for registration.
This intentionally small group will gather for six sessions beginning at the end of February.
I would be honored to walk with you as you grow your capacity to stay rooted, clear, and engaged in the work before us.