Thirty-three.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to turn 33, and I think what gets me the most is knowing how many versions of me had to keep going for me to get here.

There were seasons I was surviving. Seasons I was healing while still building. Seasons I had no idea what God was doing, but I kept moving anyway.

And now I get to look at my life and realize that so many of the things I once thought would disqualify me became part of the story God used.

I don't have everything figured out. There are still things I'm praying for, things I'm building and parts of me God is still working on.

But I really love the life He's given me.

And I’m grateful I stayed long enough to see this version of it.

Welcome to 33.

Celebrate 33 With Me

Leave something
for 33.

A memory. A prayer. A wish for my life.

If you’ve been part of my story, even for a season, I’d love for you to leave a little piece of it here.

Tell me something you remember about us. Leave me a prayer for where I’m going. Tell me what you hope this next year holds for me.

I want to keep these.

Write on the wall

For those who asked.

The Gift Edit

You absolutely do not have to get me anything. Your words, your prayers, a phone call or simply being part of my life mean more to me than you know.

But for the people who are going to ask me anyway, I made it easy.

View my birthday list

Come Celebrate With Me

Come see me.

If you can make it, I would love to celebrate with you.

Come eat, laugh, take pictures, bring the kids, stay awhile or just stop by and give me a hug.

The invitation has everything you need.

View the invite

Can't make it in person?

Join virtually.

If you can't be there on September 12, you can still be part of the moment. We're gathering on Zoom at 8:00 PM Central to sing happy birthday — and I'd love to see your face.

Leave your email and the Zoom details are yours.

From Surviving to Thriving

What Surviving Built.

A young Liz with her mother — Liz and her mother · The early years

For a long time, I only saw certain seasons of my life for what they cost me.

I can see them differently now.

Some of those seasons taught me how to fight. Some taught me how to have compassion for people whose lives don't fit neatly into a box. Some made me resourceful. Some made me brave. Some brought me closer to God. And some simply taught me that I could get back up.

I wouldn't choose every part of my story again. But I also wouldn't erase the woman it built.

Maybe that's what thriving means to me now. Not pretending the hard things never happened, but finally being able to see that they don't get to define where the story ends.

Liz looking back over the Dallas skyline at blue hour

33.

My place of pain became my place of reign.

I spent a lot of years surviving.

I'm really excited to see what God does with the years I get to spend thriving.

Exceedingly. Abundantly.

Liz

Issue 33 · September 4, 2026