I can still feel the butterflies. Not the delicate kind flitting through gardens, but the kind that seems to take up residence in your belly when God asks you to do something bold.Something brave. Something that feels way bigger than you.

Last night will forever be inked into my memory like a sacred turning point. I stood before the community at the Speakers Tribe Gathering, not just as a woman with something to say, but as a daughter of the King rising from broken places with a message that had been forged in fire and softened by grace.

My heart was pounding, not just from fear, but from a holy stirring because this wasn’t just a speech. This was a surrender. This was a declaration that the little girl who once hid in silence had grown into a woman willing to speak life, even when her voice trembled.

The room was filled with communicators — storytellers, leaders, voices that commanded attention and yet, I didn’t feel the need to perform. I felt the call to be. To be present. To be real. To be seen.

As I stood behind the microphone, I remembered the little girl who once walked on eggshells, whose feelings were often too big for the space she was given. I thought of all the women who have been misunderstood, labelled “too much” or “too sensitive,” when in reality they were just unhealed, unseen, unheard.

I shared the weight of that silence. The ache of growing up too soon. The journey of healing 💔heARTs💖 and then, I shared the turning point — the moment I realised that God didn’t just want to heal me for my sake. He wanted to use my voice to heal others. To be the vessel through which His comfort could flow, to say what others don’t know how to articulate, and to make space for the stories that sit unspoken in trembling hearts.

The most powerful part wasn’t the applause. It was the connection. The nods. The knowing glances that said, “You spoke my story, too.”

I realised that healing doesn’t always come in the quiet. Sometimes it comes in the telling. In the roar after the long silence. In the audacity to say, “This happened to me, but it didn’t end there.”

I didn’t just share a speech. I shared a scar that had become a testimony and as I sat down, heart still thumping, I felt the Holy Spirit whisper, “You did it, daughter. You spoke up and I’m so proud of you.”