Centerline
At Soul Force Strategies, we believe the most powerful life is one lived in alignment—with your values, your purpose, and your deeper self. Centerline is where strategic insight meets soulful reflection. Here, you'll find thoughtful articles, personal reflections, and practical tools to help you lead with clarity, live with intention, and grow from the inside out. Whether you’re navigating change, refining your identity, or reaching for your next level, Centerline is your space to recalibrate, realign, and rise.
What I Learned from Letting Go
Standing in the parking lot, I watched my son and his bride drive away from their wedding reception. Their car pulling out, their whole future stretching ahead as they left us behind. And I felt everything at once: pride, joy, grief, freedom, fear. All of it. The both/and of letting go. That moment wasn't just about watching Dan start his married life—it was about releasing an identity I'd held for years. "Just a mom" was finally, fully in the rearview mirror. And in its place? I was becoming someone new. This is the conclusion to the Tender Places series: what I learned from giving that wedding speech, from watching that car drive away, and from the ongoing work of integration—being fully who you are while still becoming.
Laughter as Oxygen
At my son's wedding, after talking about vulnerability and trust and growth, I almost forgot the most important thing: joy isn't a luxury in love—it's oxygen. Dave and I have been laughing our way through marriage for 32 years. Sometimes we look at each other and ask, "Shouldn't we be more mature at our age?" Then we crack up because the answer is clearly no, and we're fine with that. We speak in movie quotes and misheard lyrics. We make stupid jokes in the middle of serious conversations. Because laughter isn't a distraction from the work of love—it's part of the work. Without joy, you suffocate under the weight of all that seriousness.
Your Best Self, My Best Self, Our Best Us
Are you becoming more yourself in this relationship, or less? It's easy to lose yourself in partnership—to blur the edges until you're not sure where you end and they begin. And it's equally easy to use personal growth as an escape from connection. The magic lives in the tension between these two: being fully yourself AND fully committed to something together. At my son's wedding, I told them to make self-improvement a priority and do it together. Not because anyone needs fixing, but because the best version of your marriage needs the best version of both of you. Growing together doesn't mean growing identically—it means taking different paths up the same mountain while celebrating each other's individual journey.
The Map to Your Tender Places
We grow up on fairy tales about love—the castle, the glass slipper, the happily ever after. Then we're told those feelings aren't real, that overwhelming soul-level connection is just infatuation. But here's what I've learned through 32 years of marriage: the castles aren't real, but that profound connection absolutely is. It lives in the exchange that happens when someone hands you the map to their tender places—shows you exactly where they can be wounded—and you choose to protect those places instead of exploit them. When both people are brave enough to be vulnerable AND responsible enough to hold each other's vulnerability as sacred trust, the connection that creates is more powerful than any fairy tale. Because it's real. It's earned. It's chosen every single day.
The Whole Self, Not the Highlight Reel
To truly love someone and be loved in return, you have to share all of yourself. Not just the highlight reel. Not just the parts you're proud of. The good, the bad, the scars, the 3 AM insecurities, the fears you don't even like admitting to yourself. The sanitized version can get you a pretty good relationship. But the real, whole, unfiltered you? That's where the magic is. And that's terrifying—because being fully vulnerable means handing someone the map to exactly where you can be wounded. This is Part 3 of a series on what love actually requires: the courage to be fully seen and still fully loved.
Two Paths, One Mountain
You won't be on the same page every day. There will be mornings when you wake up and genuinely wonder if you're dealing with an alien. After 32 years of marriage, Dave and I have navigated countless versions of the dishwasher problem—those moments when two people approach the same situation from completely different angles and both are convinced their way makes more sense. But we're still on the same team. Not because we finally agreed on everything, but because we're committed to the same destination. Think of it like climbing different sides of the same mountain—different paths, different obstacles, but the same summit.
The Speech I Didn't Know I Was Ready to Give
I didn't plan to cry during my son's wedding speech. I'd practiced, prepared, even made a 12-foot scroll that unrolled dramatically down the aisle for laughs. But when I looked at my son and his bride, and at my husband after 32 years of hard-won marriage, I realized something: I was standing there as someone I didn't used to be. The words that came out—about vulnerability as courage, about trust as sacred responsibility—those weren't things the old version of me could have said. Not out loud. Not with confidence. This is Part 1 of a 7-part series on what it really takes to love well and be fully known.
Love Is a Choice: The Power of Commitment
He proposed three weeks after we met—not because we were ready, but because we were willing. Thirty-two years later, we’ve learned that love isn’t sustained by ease but forged through the daily choice to stay. Commitment, communication, and endurance have turned our imperfect beginning into something deeply strong and real.
Pakistan – The Power of Connection
Pakistan wasn’t about sightseeing. It was about reconnecting with Dave in the middle of deployment, savoring quiet moments, and realizing that connection—whether with a spouse, children, or friends—is what makes life meaningful.
