Becoming Peace: On Growing Quieter Without Losing My Fire

I’ve always walked into rooms like a storm.

Not a destructive one — more like a well-planned hurricane. Organized. Purposeful.

Ready to command and care for everything and everyone all at once. It’s how I led teams, raised children, built a life.

I still carry that fire. But somewhere along the way, I found myself craving calm.

As I’ve aged (hopefully gracefully), I’ve softened in places I didn’t expect to. I listen more than I speak now; not because I have less to say, but because I want to understand before I respond.

I catch myself watching moments instead of rushing through them. I notice the way my teens’ laughter changes when they’re truly at ease. I see how my presence matters more than my productivity.

I’ve looked back on seasons when I believed I was absolutely right… and realized how much healing could have grown if I’d let humbleness lead the way. That reflection stings sometimes, but it also sets me free.

I’m still loud. I still lead. I still love a good challenge.

But now, I try to do it with softness in my hands. I try to pause. To breathe. To meet people where they are instead of where I think they should be.

Bringing peace into my life hasn’t meant losing my voice - it’s meant using it more carefully. It hasn’t made me smaller. It’s made me deeper.

And more than anything, it’s what I want for my children: a life where they can be both strong and gentle, bold and kind, fierce and full of peace.

Maybe you’re in this season, too; still fire, just with more stillness in between.

Here in the quiet - Elizabeth