For more than a year, an idea has been quietly sitting on my heart. It is something I have thought about, prayed about, and occasionally wondered whether I was being called to pursue. Over the past several months, however, those thoughts have become more frequent, and my prayer has become more intentional. I have found myself asking God a question that continues to return: Is He calling me to do something more with the work I have already begun?
For several years, I have used my writing as a way to share stories of hope, courage, healing, and faith. What began as a desire to help others through the written word eventually became something much more meaningful. I made the decision to donate 100% of the proceeds from my books to organizations that support children who have experienced abuse, neglect, or trauma. It was my way of taking something painful from my own life and allowing God to use it for something good.
I never imagined that writing books would lead me down this particular path. Yet, looking back, I can see how God has been gently opening doors, introducing me to people, and placing opportunities before me that I never would have considered on my own. What has been particularly interesting is that I am not the only person who has been thinking about the possibility of something more. Over the past several months, different people, in completely separate conversations, have brought up the idea of starting a foundation. These were not necessarily conversations in which I was seeking advice about creating an organization. The subject simply came up, sometimes unexpectedly. Each time, I found myself returning to the same question I had already been bringing to prayer. Could this be something God is inviting me to consider more seriously?
I am careful not to assume that every conversation is a sign from God. At the same time, I have learned that sometimes He uses the people around us to help us recognize possibilities we might otherwise dismiss. When the same idea continues to surface through prayer, personal reflection, and conversations with others, I believe it deserves thoughtful attention. And so, after more than a year of thinking about it and several months of more serious discernment, I have decided to begin taking the first steps toward establishing Courage Has a Voice Foundation.
The vision is to create a foundation dedicated to raising awareness, advocating for survivors, and supporting efforts to prevent child abuse. It would build upon the work I have already been doing through my books, speaking engagements, and conversations with others about childhood trauma and the importance of breaking the silence. But starting a foundation is not something I take lightly. It involves more than choosing a name, creating a website, or organizing fundraising events. It comes with responsibilities, commitments, and a great deal of work. More importantly, I want to approach this endeavor with the understanding that it is not simply about what I want to accomplish. It is about remaining open to how God might be asking me to serve. That is where discernment comes in.
One thing I have learned throughout my life is that God's plans rarely unfold according to my timeline. There have been moments when I was convinced I knew exactly where He was leading me, only to discover that He had something entirely different in mind. There have also been times when I could not understand why certain experiences were part of my story until years later. My own childhood was marked by experiences that no child should ever have to endure. For many years, those experiences were surrounded by silence, fear, and pain. Healing did not happen overnight, and it certainly was not a straight path. It took years of learning to trust, finding my voice, and recognizing that what happened to me did not have to define the rest of my life.
I cannot change what happened to that little girl. I cannot go back and protect her from the things she experienced. But I can use the voice I have today to advocate for children who may not yet know how to use theirs. That realization has become an important part of my life's work. Through my books, I have had opportunities to connect with readers, parents, educators, and individuals who have shared their own experiences with me. Some conversations have been filled with hope, while others have reminded me just how deeply childhood trauma can affect a person's life. Each encounter has reinforced something I believe wholeheartedly: every child deserves to feel safe, valued, heard, and protected.
I have also come to recognize that awareness alone is not enough. Awareness needs to lead to conversations. Conversations need to lead to action. And action, when guided by compassion and a genuine desire to serve, can create opportunities for meaningful change. Perhaps that is why the idea of a foundation has remained on my heart for so long. I envision Courage Has a Voice Foundation as an organization that could bring people together around a shared purpose. Initially, that would mean organizing fundraising events, supporting organizations already doing important work, and continuing to use my books and speaking opportunities to raise awareness. Eventually, I would love to see it grow to include educational programs, presentations, and prevention initiatives that help communities better understand how to recognize, respond to, and prevent child abuse.
I also recognize that a vision of this size cannot become a reality through enthusiasm alone. It requires thoughtful planning, responsible leadership, financial accountability, and people who believe in the mission enough to help carry it forward. Over the past several months, I have been researching what establishing a nonprofit organization would involve. I have been learning about the legal requirements, the responsibilities of a board of directors, fundraising, and the many details that go into building an organization with a strong foundation. I have also been having conversations with people whose experience and perspectives I value.
There is excitement in imagining what Courage Has a Voice Foundation could become, but there is also uncertainty. I wonder whether I have the knowledge, resources, and time to take on something of this magnitude. I wonder how it will fit alongside my writing, my career, my podcast, and the other responsibilities in my life. And then I find myself returning to a simple thought: God does not ask us to have every detail figured out before we take the next faithful step. That does not mean moving forward without careful planning or discernment. It means recognizing that there comes a point when prayer and discernment invite us to take action, even when we cannot see the entire path ahead.
I think sometimes we expect discernment to result in a dramatic moment of clarity, as though God will provide a detailed roadmap showing us exactly what to do and when to do it. In my experience, it is often much quieter than that. Sometimes it is a thought that continues to return during prayer. Sometimes it is a conversation that stays with us long after it has ended. Sometimes it is a desire to serve that gradually becomes more difficult to ignore. For more than a year, I have been listening to that quiet possibility. Over the past several months, I have been paying closer attention to it. And now, I believe it is time to begin moving forward.
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What I do know is that my commitment to advocating for children and supporting survivors is not going away. The foundation would not be the beginning of that commitment. It would be an opportunity to build upon work that has already become deeply personal and meaningful to me. I want children to know that their voices matter. I want survivors to know that their stories do not end with what happened to them. I want families and communities to understand that protecting children is a responsibility we all share. Most of all, I want the work I do to reflect the love, dignity, and hope that Christ has shown me throughout my own journey.
There is a particular beauty in realizing that God can bring purpose out of experiences we once believed would only cause pain. That does not make the suffering good, nor does it erase what happened. But it reminds me that suffering does not have to have the final word. When I think about the little girl I once was, the one who was afraid to speak, who carried secrets she never should have been asked to carry, and who struggled for years to understand her own worth, I sometimes wonder what she would think of the woman I have become. I certainly do not believe she could have imagined writing books, sharing her story publicly, speaking about childhood abuse prevention, or considering the creation of a foundation dedicated to protecting children.
There was a time when simply finding my own voice seemed impossible. Now, I find myself wondering how that voice might help create opportunities for others to be heard. That is why the name Courage Has a Voice means so much to me. Courage is not always loud. Sometimes it is found in a child who finally tells someone what is happening. Sometimes it is a survivor sharing a story for the first time. Sometimes it is an adult choosing to listen, believe, and take action. And sometimes it is simply having the courage to begin something when you do not know exactly where it will lead.
As I take these first steps, I am trying not to become so focused on what the foundation could look like five or ten years from now that I miss what God is asking of me today. Today, that means beginning the work. It means making the phone calls, having the conversations, completing the research, and taking the practical steps necessary to see whether this vision can become a sustainable organization that makes a meaningful difference. It also means continuing to pray. I want to remain attentive to God's guidance throughout this process, not just at the beginning. I want to be willing to adjust my plans when necessary, seek wisdom from others, and remember that the mission must always be greater than any one person.
My hope is that Courage Has a Voice Foundation will never simply be about an organization or a name. I want it to be about the children who need protection, the survivors who deserve compassion, and the communities that have the power to make a difference. I do not know exactly what the coming months will bring. I do not know how quickly everything will come together or what unexpected challenges might arise. But after more than a year of carrying this idea in my heart, I feel ready to take the next step.
There is something both exciting and humbling about finally beginning something you have spent so much time praying about. Perhaps one of the greatest lessons of discernment is realizing that faith does not always mean waiting until every uncertainty disappears. Sometimes faith means doing the work that is in front of us while trusting God with what comes next. And so, with a grateful heart, a little nervousness, and a great deal of hope, I am beginning this new chapter.
Courage Has a Voice Foundation. Breaking Silence. Building Courage. Protecting Children.
What began as a quiet thought more than a year ago is now becoming something I am willing to work toward making a reality. I do not know where this journey will lead, but I am grateful for the people who have encouraged me, the experiences that have shaped this vision, and the God who continues to remind me that even the most painful chapters of our lives can become part of something meaningful. For now, I will keep praying, keep listening, and keep taking the next faithful step. Because sometimes, after spending so much time asking God whether we should begin, the next act of faith is simply having the courage to start.
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