Ever wonder if you’re coming or going—if you’re growing or just circling the same mountain again?
That’s what Bootcamp felt like for me: movement without arrival, effort without rest.
But somewhere along the way, Jesus showed me that the fire hadn’t changed… only my lens had. Here’s how the same Romans 8:28 heat that once trained me to strive is now teaching me to surrender.
Same fire — different lens: from Fix-Me to Finished.
I didn’t plan a rebrand. It happened somewhere between one deep breath and a long sigh.
“Bootcamp” just stopped fitting.
At first, Bootcamp made sense. It felt like training — steady steps, shared practice. My heart? Help others learn their tools while I shared mine.
But somewhere along the track, I hit spirals that seemed determined to throw me off course. Every delay, every derailment felt like failure —until I realized the spirals weren’t sabotage; they were Romans 8:28 in motion.
God was working all things together for good, slowing me down long enough for Jesus to rewrite my pace.
I didn’t recognize it then, but Romans 8:28 was already working in the background—rewriting my rhythm before I noticed the tempo change.
Little noticed first.
She simply … stopped.
No rebellion, no lecture — just stillness by the fire.
The delay to post Day 7— as I flowed along the days as chauffeur, homeschool guide, cook, and laundress — felt ordinary on the surface, but underneath, deeper understanding was forming.
Maybe I should have listened sooner? After all she had caught details years ago that I’m only noticing now.
Instead of pushing through like I used to do, Big finally sat with Little — reviewing what had been missed, stretching her voice, letting her speak without fear.
That’s when I saw it. The fire hadn’t changed — my lens had.
The same flame that once shouted “Do better!” was humming:
“You’re already Mine.”
Romans 8:28 is the purpose that holds both worlds together.
In Bootcamp, it’s the spark that gets us moving again — one step, one thing at a time — when shame and self-condemnation have buried the heart.
In The Foundry, it’s the flame that keeps us yielding — refining motion into meaning — when surrender replaces striving.
The tools never change; the heart does.
The shift happens when the doing for becomes flowing from.
Bootcamp helped me move when stillness felt unsafe.
The Foundry helps me stay when stillness feels safe.
It isn’t a new program; it’s the same fire, seen through a different lens.
Because peace was never a trophy for performance; it’s a Person — Jesus — walking beside us in the heat.
“I pray with great faith for you, because I’m fully convinced
that the One who began this glorious work in you
will faithfully continue the process of maturing you
and will put His finishing touches to it
until the unveiling of our Lord Jesus Christ.”
— Philippians 1:6 TPT
The on-ramp? Our yes.
My lens determines my view.
Follow Me, and I’ll help you see the same fire through the Lens of Love —until the pain you once feared becomes the warmth that forges peace in Christ.
The forge is slowing now so the metal can cool.
Each Jewel needs space to shine, and peace deserves its own pace.
Next, we’ll adjust the lens again — learning how emotion itself becomes light along our path.
Emotions are the landscape we explore until we see we’ve been home all along —citizens of the Kingdom, hanging out in the Oasis of Peace.
Pause & Selah
Every journey starts with a yes.
If you’re just finding me here, your first step isn’t The Foundry — it’s curiosity.
Take the short What’s Good About You? Quiz to discover how you process emotion — and get your first breadcrumb toward peace.
You’ll see how the same fire that once felt like pressure can become the warmth of Love showing you home.
Want to keep traveling with me?
I share these reflections as part of our ongoing Peace Train journey — where we trade striving for surrender, one layer at a time.
Next up — Behind the Lens
The shift from Bootcamp to Foundry didn’t start with a new rhythm.
It started when Jesus flipped my inner lens — from fixing myself to discovering what He’d already finished.
In the next post, I’ll share how the very thing that once felt like a limitation — my missing childhood memories — became the key that taught me to hear God’s healing without needing the past to explain it.