Hello… My Name Is Megan

Hi, friend.

If you’ve found your way here, welcome to The Flower And The Pearl

I’m Megan, and honestly, I’m still becoming her.

This little corner of the internet is a place where I get to share pieces of my life, my faith, my family, the things I’m learning, the things I’m creating, and the beautiful—and sometimes messy—process of becoming who God created me to be.

I thought my first blog post should probably start with something simple:

“Hi. This is me.”

I’m a wife, a mom, stepmom, a daughter, a sister, a friend, an artist, a photographer, and most importantly, a daughter of God who is learning what it really means to live like I believe that.

I love Jesus, but I’m not here because I have everything figured out.

Quite the opposite.

I’m here because I’m learning.

Learning how to slow down.

Learning how to hear God in the middle of everyday life.

Learning what it means to love my husband well.

Learning how to raise my children while also letting God continue to raise me.

Learning how to walk in freedom instead of letting my past define me. (That one hits hard.)

And learning that becoming who God created me to be is not something that happens overnight.

It happens one little step at a time.

A Few Fun Things About Me

Since we’re just getting to know each other, here are a few things about me.

I am fueled by coffee... and sometimes a sweet treat.

I am fueled by coffee and, on occasion, (more often than I would like to admit) that sweet treat that hits the spot just right on a rough day.

Coffee and Jesus are basically a personality trait around here.

And then there are those days when a little something sweet just feels like the right kind of comfort. A piece of chocolate, a good dessert, or whatever sweet treat happens to be calling my name can turn an ordinary “I really don't want to adult today” kind of day into something a little better.

I'm not saying dessert fixes everything...

But sometimes a warm cup of coffee, a little chocolate, and a moment to breathe can make the day feel just a tiny bit sweeter.

And if Jesus is involved too? Well, that's an even better combination.

I love art.

Creating things has always been one of the ways I express what I can't always put into words.

Give me some paint, pencils, a sketchbook, or a creative project and I'm happy.

I love photography.

I love capturing little moments that might otherwise be forgotten—the way the light falls, a genuine smile, a beautiful sunset, or a moment with the people I love.

The creative side of me also loves the editing side of photography. There's something about taking an image and bringing out the mood, feeling, and story that I see in it.

I’m a mom of 4 and a bonus mom/stepmom of 4.

Motherhood is one of the biggest parts of my story.

It has stretched me, humbled me, made me laugh until my stomach hurts, and brought me closer to God in ways I never expected.

My children have each entered my story in their own unique way, but one of my sons came into my life during a time when I felt like I had absolutely no hope left.

I had just experienced a heartbreaking loss, and I remember feeling like I didn't know how I was going to keep moving forward.

Then he came along.

In a season when I couldn't see much of a future for myself, he gave me a reason to look toward one again.

He gave me hope.

Sometimes I look back and realize that God knew exactly what I needed during a time when I couldn't see beyond the pain I was in.

But motherhood has also taught me that loving your children means learning how to trust God with the things you cannot control.

My youngest son was born with a heart condition, and his birth was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life.

After having all natural births with my other children, I unexpectedly ended up needing an emergency C-section.

When they put me under, I didn't know what was going to happen.

And while I was unconscious, my son lost his heartbeat.

When I woke up, I didn't know what I was going to wake up to. I didn't know if I was going to be okay. I didn't know what was happening with my baby.

Eventually, he ended up in the cardiac ICU, and there were moments when all I could do was sit there and wait.

One night, in the middle of the night, I reached a point where I realized I couldn't keep carrying everything myself.

I got up and walked into the waiting area.

It was completely empty.

Just me, God, and the silence of the middle of the night.

And I surrendered.

Not the kind of surrender where you say, “God, please make this turn out the way I want.”

A deeper surrender.

I told God that my son was His before he was ever mine.

And I gave him back to Him.

Even if that meant trusting God to hold me through the possibility of losing my son.

That was one of the hardest prayers I've ever prayed.

Because surrender doesn't mean you stop loving.

It doesn't mean you stop hoping.

It means you finally realize that you were never meant to carry everything by yourself.

That night changed something in me.

I wish I could say that after that moment, I never struggled with fear again.

But that's not how faith works for me.

I'm still learning.

I'm still learning how to surrender.

I'm still learning how to trust God when I don't understand what He's doing.

I'm still learning how to open my hands and say, “God, this is Yours.”

And motherhood gives me countless opportunities to practice that.

Because I can't control every decision my children will make.

I can't protect them from every hurt.

I can't guarantee that their lives will be easy.

But I can pray for them.

I can love them.

I can teach them.

I can be there for them.

And I can keep learning to trust the One who loves them even more than I do.

Motherhood has taught me that sometimes faith looks like holding your baby close.

Sometimes it looks like crying in an empty hospital waiting room.

Sometimes it looks like praying when you don't have the words.

And sometimes it looks like opening your hands and saying:

“God, I give You everything. Even the things I'm most afraid to lose.”

I'm still learning to live that prayer.

And I think I probably will be for the rest of my life.

Because being a mom has taught me something I never expected:

I can love my children fiercely while still learning to trust God with them.

I’m a wife.

Marriage has taught me that love isn't just about the beautiful moments.

It's about grace, forgiveness, choosing each other, growing together, and keeping God at the center.

Our marriage has a story behind it—a difficult one, but also one of restoration.

We recently got married after walking through a very painful season in which my husband had abandoned our son, his stepchildren and I. There were moments when I didn't know what our future would look like or if our family would ever find its way back to one another.

But God had a different story in mind.

Through forgiveness, healing, hard conversations, growth, and a whole lot of God's grace, our relationship was restored.

And now we're moving forward one step at a time.

I'm learning that restoration doesn't necessarily mean pretending the hard parts never happened. It means allowing God to take what was broken and teach us how to build something new with it.

And some of the things that mean the most to me aren't the big, romantic gestures.

It's the little things.

It's him opening the door for me every single time.

It's him painting my fingers and toes.

It's the little ways he takes care of me without being asked.

It's the things that might seem insignificant to someone else but make me stop and think, He really loves me.

One of the moments I'll never forget happened during a really difficult season for me.

There was a time when I was struggling deeply with my mental health and feeling spiritually oppressed. I was overwhelmed and hurting in a way that was difficult to explain.

I remember being in the shower, sobbing uncontrollably, and telling my husband to leave me alone.

The shower is such a strange place to think about this because it's one of the few places where, as a mother, I can actually be completely alone.

And yet sometimes the enemy seems to know exactly where we're most vulnerable.

But instead of simply walking away and leaving me in that moment, my husband found a way to remind me that I was loved.

He put little notes on the shower door.

They said:

“I love you so much.”

And then there was our little saying:

“Twice as much as yesterday.”

I ask him a lot throughout the day if he loves me. And every time, he'll give me some ridiculously huge number or tell me he loves me twice as much as yesterday.

So, while I was sitting there crying, he left those little reminders where I couldn't miss them.

He reminded me that I was loved.

That I mattered.

That I was cherished.

And most importantly, he prayed over me and reminded me of who I am as a daughter of God.

That moment has stayed with me because sometimes love doesn't look like having the perfect words.

Sometimes love looks like staying.

Sometimes it looks like a little note on a shower door.

Sometimes it looks like prayer.

Sometimes it looks like reminding someone of their worth when they can't see it for themselves.

And sometimes it's simply saying, “I'm here. You're loved. You're not alone.”

My husband also has a nickname for me that I absolutely love.

He calls me his little duck.

Yes, I actually have a little tattoo of a duck inside a heart because of it.

He says that sometimes when he looks at me, he sees me as this sweet, innocent little duck who needs to be protected. And he tells me that he will always be the person who wants me to feel safe and protected.

There's something incredibly tender about being loved in a way that makes you feel safe.

Especially when you've spent so much of your life learning what it feels like to protect yourself.

I'm still learning what healthy love looks like.

I'm still learning how to receive love without questioning it.

I'm still learning that I don't have to earn being cherished.

And I'm learning that marriage isn't about two perfect people.

It's two imperfect people who have decided to keep growing, keep forgiving, keep choosing each other, and keep inviting God into the middle of it all.

Our story isn't perfect.

We're not perfect.

But God has been faithful through all of it.

And we're still writing this chapter—one step, one prayer, one ordinary little act of love at a time.

And honestly, I think those little things are some of the biggest things of all.

My faith is at the center of everything.

I don't have a perfect walk with Jesus.

I have a real one.

There are days when my faith feels strong and days when I have to remind myself of what I already know to be true.

I'm learning that faith isn't about never being afraid, never questioning, or never having a hard day.

It's about continuing to turn toward God in the middle of all of it.

I'm learning who I am in Christ.

I'm learning what it means to surrender.

I'm learning what it means to let God define me instead of my past, my circumstances, my mistakes, or the things other people have said about me.

And I know I have a lot more learning to do.

I love beautiful, meaningful things.

Flowers, sunsets, handwritten notes, cozy spaces, pretty journals, meaningful conversations, and little reminders of God's goodness are some of my favorite things.

I also absolutely love cold weather.

Give me a chilly evening, a warm blanket or my husband's favorite hoodie, and a cup of hot chocolate and I am one happy girl.

Add a little bonfire in the backyard and some s'mores, and you've pretty much created my perfect evening.

There is something about those simple moments that makes me slow down and appreciate life—the crackling fire, the cool air, everyone wrapped up in blankets, the smell of chocolate and marshmallows, and just being together.

And I think that's one of the things I'm learning in my walk with Christ:

God is present in the ordinary.

Sometimes I expect to find Him in the big moments—the answered prayers, the breakthroughs, the life-changing moments.

But I'm learning to notice Him in the little things too.

In the beauty of His creation.

In the laughter of my children.

In a quiet evening with my husband.

In a warm cup of hot chocolate on a cold night.

In sitting around a fire and realizing, God, You have given me these people and this moment. Thank You.

Those are the moments I want to slow down enough to actually notice.

I think those are some of the moments I want to hold onto the most.

The little things.

The ordinary things.

The moments that don't look particularly important while they're happening, but somehow become the memories you treasure later.

Because life doesn't always have to be a big adventure to be beautiful.

Sometimes it's just a blanket, a cup of hot chocolate, a little fire, a sticky s'more, and the people you love sitting beside you.

And sometimes, in the middle of something as simple as that, I find myself quietly thanking God for the life He's given me.

And, of course, there’s one little souvenir you take home with you every single time:

The smell of bonfire smoke permanently attached to your hair and clothes.

You might not be able to see the fire anymore, but you'll definitely be smelling like that night for the rest of the evening!

And honestly… maybe that's part of the fun.

I love a good Netflix/movie night.

But my favorite kind of movie night is when we have all the kids home and everyone piles onto our new “expensive” couch—which, by the way, literally popped out of a box and somehow turns into a giant, comfy puzzle of different pieces.

When all the kids are home, we can rearrange it into one giant cozy pallet so everyone actually has a spot.

Then come the blankets, the favorite stuffed animals, and everyone finding their little corner.

And of course, we need snacks.

Sometimes we even have what we call “Popcorn Surprise.”

It’s just regular popcorn… except we throw in M&Ms or chocolate chips for little sweet surprises throughout the bowl.

It usually happens when we didn’t make our candy stop and need to improvise.

There’s something about those nights that I absolutely love.

The house gets loud.

Someone is probably arguing over what we're watching.

There are blankets everywhere, stuffed animals taking up entirely too much space, and somehow nobody is sitting where they're supposed to be.

And yet, those are the moments I want to remember.

Not the perfectly clean house or the perfectly planned evenings.

Just all of us together, piled onto our ridiculous couch, wrapped in blankets, eating popcorn surprise, surrounded by everyone's favorite stuffed animals, watching a movie and making memories.

Those ordinary family nights are some of my favorite kind of beautiful.

And probably one of the most important things to know about me:

I love making things.

Whether it's a photograph, a painting, a journal page, a blog post, a room I'm decorating, or an idea that suddenly pops into my head at 11 p.m.—I love creating.

I think there is something beautiful about being made in the image of a Creator and then being given our own little pieces of creativity to carry.

Creating is definitely part of who I am.

And honestly, my kids have always kept my creativity on its toes.

They would come up with a theme for a birthday party and somehow have the highest expectations, like I was running a professional movie studio instead of just being Mom with a hot glue gun.

But somehow, I always made it happen.

I've made DIY costumes, decorations, props, and entire party experiences that probably should have been way more complicated than I ever intended them to be.

One year, I made a three-headed dragon costume with heads that actually moved when you moved your arms.

Another time, we did a fun Alien vs. Predator themed birthday party, complete with detailed homemade masks, neon-colored paint, and water guns for an all-out battle.

And then there was the Harry Potter birthday party.

I made monster books, a sorting hat, and even screaming mandrake dolls out of fake plants and baby dolls.

We turned the backyard into our own little wizarding world, and when the sun went down, we brought out a projector and watched the Harry Potter movies outside together.

Looking back, I think some of my favorite creations weren't necessarily the prettiest or most perfect ones.

They were the ones that made my kids' eyes light up because I took their crazy idea and somehow turned it into something real.

I think that's one of the things I love most about creating.

You start with an idea, a little imagination, and sometimes a whole lot of trial and error—and somehow, you end up with something that didn't exist before.

And maybe that's why creativity has always felt so special to me.

God is the ultimate Creator, and I love that He gives us the ability to create, imagine, dream, and make beautiful things too.

Sometimes that looks like art.

Sometimes it's photography.

Sometimes it's a journal or a handmade decoration.

Sometimes it's turning the backyard into a magical world for your kids.

And sometimes… it's a three-headed dragon, a sorting hat, or a screaming mandrake made from a fake plant and a baby doll.

Whatever it is, I just love making things.

I love teaching and working with children.

My love for creating eventually became something I got to share outside of my home too.

I had the opportunity to be a middle and high school art and photography teacher, and I also helped with our school's drama club, working on props and makeup.

And honestly?

It was everything I loved all in one place.

I got to teach art.

I got to teach photography.

I got to create.

I got to help bring stories to life through props and makeup.

But most importantly, I got to build relationships with my students.

Some of the most meaningful parts weren't even the projects themselves.

It was getting to know the students, watching them discover something they were good at, encouraging them when they didn't believe in themselves, and getting to see their creativity come alive.

That experience was truly one of the hardest but most satisfying experiences of my life.

I also became very aware that sometimes the kids sitting in my classroom were carrying things that no one else could see.

Not every child walks through the school doors having had an easy morning.

Some are dealing with things at home, difficult relationships, insecurities, anxiety, loss, or struggles they may not know how to put into words yet.

And sometimes, I think, they just need somewhere to be.

For some of my students, art wasn't just another class.

It was an outlet.

Photography gave them a way to see the world differently.

Creating something with their hands gave them a chance to focus on something beautiful for a little while.

And I wanted my classroom to be a safe space.

A place where they could come in, be creative, laugh, talk, ask questions, or simply have a moment where they didn't have to pretend everything was okay.

I wanted to be a safe person—someone they could trust, someone who would listen, someone who would remind them that they mattered and that their voice was worth hearing.

I couldn't fix everything they were going through, and I didn't need to.

Sometimes being there, listening, encouraging them, and giving them a little space to breathe was enough.

That experience taught me that teaching is about so much more than what is written in a lesson plan.

Sometimes the greatest thing you can give a child is simply a place where they feel seen, valued, safe, and encouraged to become who they were created to be.

And looking back, I think that's one of the reasons that season of my life meant so much to me.

It was hard.

It was exhausting.

But it was also incredibly meaningful.

Because I wasn't just teaching art and photography.

I was building relationships, creating safe spaces, and hopefully leaving little reminders in the hearts of my students that they matter.

And maybe that's another reason I love creating so much.

It's not always about what I make.

Sometimes it's about who I get to make it with, who I get to encourage along the way, and the relationships built in the process.

And this is only the beginning.

There are so many more pieces of my story that I want to share with you.

The beautiful parts.

The messy parts.

The things I've walked through.

The things God has taught me.

The things I'm still learning.

We'll talk about faith, marriage, motherhood, healing, creativity, identity, and what it looks like to follow Jesus in the middle of ordinary life.

I'll share the Scriptures that have carried me, the prayers I come back to, the things that help me stay grounded, and eventually some of the journals, devotionals, artwork, and creative projects I'm dreaming up along the way.

Because I'm not writing from a place of having arrived.

I'm writing from the middle of the journey.

I'm still becoming.

And if you're becoming too, I hope you'll stay awhile.

Grab your coffee.

Bring your questions.

Bring your messy story.

Bring the parts of yourself you're still trying to understand.

There is room for you here.

Welcome to The Pearl and the Flower.

I'm so glad you're here.

With love,
-Megan