Tag: god

My Sweet Girl, This is the Conversation we didn’t Finish at the Kitchen Table

There is a particular kind of grief that no one warns you about — the grief of sending off a child you are not actually worried about. If she were struggling, if the school were a question mark, if her faith were shaky or her judgment untested, the ache might make more sense. But this is different. This is standing in a dorm room doorway, surrounded by boxes and command hooks, watching your daughter glow with excitement about a campus that shares your values, your faith, your hope for who she’ll become — and still feeling your chest cave in a little, because none of that changes the fact that she is leaving, and you are not going with her. You can trust the school. You can trust her. You can even trust God completely with the outcome. And you can still stand in the parking lot after the goodbye hug, watching her walk toward a building that isn’t your home, wondering if you said everything you needed to say, or if you just ran out of time.

That feeling, safety and heartbreak occupying the same square foot of your chest, is exactly where this blog series, begins.

I wrote Before You Go because I ran out of kitchen table. There were things I meant to say over the years — not lectures, just the real things, the things you say slowly, over dinners and car rides and late nights when she couldn’t sleep — and somewhere between her senior year chaos and move-in day, I realized the conversation wasn’t finished. It was never going to be finished. Some of what I needed to tell her wasn’t a single talk anyway. It was a body of wisdom I’d been collecting her whole life, and I needed somewhere to put all of it before I handed her the keys to her own life.

So I wrote her a letter. It became the introduction to my latest book, and I want to share it here first, because it says better than anything else I could write today exactly why this series exists. Here goes…..

My sweet girl,

I have been rehearsing this moment in my heart since the day you learned how to tie your own shoes and insisted, “I got it, Mommy.”

You’ve always “got it.”

And now here you are — graduating high school. How did we get here?

One minute I was cutting your dumplings in half because I was convinced you might choke. Now I’m sending you off to a campus where boys quote Scripture, coffee is a personality trait, and everyone suddenly feels called to “ministry.”

Lord, help us all!

Before you go, there are some things I need to say — not because I don’t trust you, but because I love you enough to tell you the truth. College will be beautiful. It will stretch you. It will expose you. It will invite you into rooms where you feel brilliant — and rooms where you feel invisible.

You will meet people who inspire you. And you will meet people who confuse you. Some will sharpen your faith. Some will test it. And yes, even at a Christian college, not everything wrapped in Scripture is safe.

I know. I’ve lived long enough to tell you that “praise the Lord” and “good character” are not always the same thing.

But hear me clearly: you are ready.

You are not going to college to find yourself. You are going knowing who you are.

You are a daughter before you are a student. You are called before you are chosen. You are whole before anyone tries to complete you.

There will be moments when you feel lonely. Moments when you question your major. Moments when you question yourself. Moments when a boy looks at you in a way that makes your stomach flip and your discernment flicker.

Pause in those moments.

Remember whose you are.

Remember how you were raised.

Remember that your worth is not up for negotiation, auction, or emotional installment payments.

This not a rulebook. It’s not me hovering. It’s not surveillance.

It’s covering. It’s wisdom I learned — sometimes the easy way, sometimes the hard way. I won’t pretend I made perfect choices in college. I didn’t. I trusted too quickly once. I confused attention for affection once. I thought “strong faith” meant I didn’t need accountability once.

I learned. And now I’m handing you what I learned without you having to pay full price for the lesson. You will make mistakes. You will grow. You will evolve. You will surprise yourself.

And through all of it — you can always come home. Not just physically. But emotionally. Spiritually. Honestly.

Call me if you’re confused. Call me if you’re tempted. Call me if you messed up. Call me if you’re thriving and just want to tell me about a cute boy who plays guitar and loves Jesus.

We’ll process it all. You are stepping into freedom. But freedom without wisdom is expensive. So consider this a conversation that stretches beyond move-in day.

I am proud of you beyond words.

And even though I’m releasing you, I am not withdrawing my covering.

Go learn. Go grow. Go love God deeply. Go guard your heart wisely. Go build a life that reflects both conviction and courage.

And if you ever forget who you are…Read this again.

Always your mother.

Always your biggest fan.

Always praying.

With all my love, Mommy

Why Women Need to Quit Shrinking and Start Shining

By: Chauna-Kaye Pottinger

Let’s just call it what it is: far too many brilliant, bold, and beautiful women are dimming their light to make their husbands shine brighter. And not because they lack talent, ambition, clarity or (most importantly) faith; but because somewhere along the line, someone convinced them that their strength was a threat. That confidence is masculine, brilliance in a woman is something to be “toned down” and living out their God-ordained purpose is tethered to the way in which they support their men.

And so, the performance begins.

It’s subtle. It’s sophisticated. And at times, it’s even unconscious. But it’s happening—in kitchens, boardrooms, Bible studies, and dinner parties.

The Art of Playing Small (a.k.a. Strategic Cluelessness)

It usually starts with a smile. A deferential nod. A too-loud laugh at a not-that-funny joke. Suddenly, she’s asking how to reset the Wi-Fi, even though she’s the one who set it up in the first place. It’s not that she doesn’t know. It’s that she’s learned to make him feel like he knows best.

So she leans into performance:
“Oh honey, can you help me with this? You’re just so much better at it than I.” Translation: “I could’ve done it in 4 minutes, but I’m trying to keep you from spiraling into a confidence crisis.”

Career Acrobatics: The Backflip Into the Background

Let’s talk about ambition. She’s been offered a promotion, a big one. More money, more leadership, more visibility. But it comes with power. And with power comes tension.

So she starts to weigh it:
“If I take this, will he feel insecure?”
“Will I out-earn him? Outgrow him?”
“Will people say I wear the pants?”

Rather than risk unsettling the fragile balance, she politely steps aside. “Now’s not the right time,” she says. But it is. The problem isn’t timing—it’s social conditioning wrapped with a bow of guilt.

Emotional Labor: Where She Becomes His Life Coach

This woman isn’t just a wife—she’s a full-time ego management consultant. She doesn’t just support; she curates his reality. She minimizes her accomplishments so his seem larger. She edits her ideas so he feels smarter. She celebrates his mediocre while keeping her excellence under wraps.

Why? Because she’s been taught that protecting his pride is her job.

But here’s a question: When did marriage become a space where one must shrink for the other to feel tall?

Self-Deprecation as a Defense Mechanism

You’ve seen it—and maybe done it. “I’m so bad at math—he handles all the finances.” Or, “I don’t understand politics—I let him explain it.”
Even though she’s got the degree, the budget spreadsheet, and a folder full of receipts. But instead of owning her brilliance, she makes herself the punchline so he can be the professor.

It’s not humility—it’s survival wrapped in humor.

Faith-Based Shrinking: When Theology Becomes a Gag Order

In some religious circles, the message is even louder: He’s the head. You’re the neck. Which often gets twisted into: Speak only when spoken to. Lead only when no man is available. So even the spiritually gifted woman, the one with fire in her bones and revelation in her spirit, will sit on her hands during Bible study—while Brother John fumbles through Leviticus like it’s a Rubik’s Cube.

But while she’s busy dimming her voice, the whole room misses out. The insight she carries? The revelation she’s been sitting on? It stays locked inside—while the atmosphere stays the same. And deep down, she knows the Holy Spirit has been tugging at her heart, nudging her to speak, to share, to pour out. But she swallows it—for the sake of keeping the spotlight on him. And in doing so, she quiets not just herself, but the very move of God within her.

Performing Helplessness: The Cute Confused Act

You know the move:
“Can you open this jar for me?”
“Can you fix the printer?”
“Can you drive? I’m just not good with directions.”

Some of it is legit. But often, it’s theater. The goal? To appear soft, sweet, and dependent enough not to threaten the man she loves.

Because heaven forbid he realize… she’s actually unstoppable.

The Tragic Truth?

When a woman dims her God-given light, everyone loses.

She loses the fullness of her calling.
He loses the strength of her partnership.
The marriage loses its divine balance and power.

Because love that demands silence isn’t love—it’s a performance. And God never called His daughters to audition for acceptance. He called them to purpose.

Ephesians 2:10 reminds us, “For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things He planned for us long ago.”
That includes her voice, her vision, her leadership, and her light.

And Proverbs 31? It doesn’t describe a hidden, hushed woman. It describes a woman who “opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue” (Proverbs 31:26). A woman who rises, builds, trades, teaches, and fears the Lord. That kind of woman is meant to shine.

So no, she wasn’t made to shrink behind a man. She was made to stand beside him—with power, with purpose, with divine clarity.

Because when both lights shine—hers and his—the whole house is filled with glory.

So here’s to the women who are done performing.

Who are tired of pretending they don’t know how to fix the TV.
Tired of trading dreams for domestic approval.
Tired of silencing their voice in the name of submission.

Let this be the year you stop dimming your light and start living in the full wattage of your calling.

Because a woman who shines doesn’t cast a shadow on her husband—she helps him see better.

Shine, sis. Shine so bright you light up the whole house and ultimately the world!

Chauna-Kaye Pottinger a devoted Christian residing in sunny Orlando, Florida. As a loving wife and mother, she gracefully balances her roles with a fervent dedication to her faith. Chauna-Kaye’s heart is set on reaching Heaven, and she channels her passion into inspiring everyone she encounters to embark on the same spiritual journey. Through her blog, she shares insights, experiences, and unwavering enthusiasm for a life centered on faith and eternal purpose. Join Chauna-Kaye as she navigates the path to Heaven, encouraging others to walk alongside her in this transformative quest.