My Story

This didn't start as a theory.

It started as survival.

Long before this work had language, frameworks, or a name, it was being lived. Slowly, imperfectly, and often painfully. Catching the Foxes didn't come from a classroom or a coaching certification. It came from a life that required early awareness, deep resilience, and eventually, surrender.

This page isn't here to impress you. It's here so you know who you're talking to and why this work exists at all.

I grew up in what I can only describe as beautiful chaos.

Home wasn't safe. Authority wasn't trustworthy. Strength wasn't optional, it was required. Abuse, instability, neglect, and violence were normal backdrops to childhood. Survival meant learning to read rooms quickly, hardening when needed, and staying alert at all times.

Later came foster care, more harm, more loss, more responsibility than a child should carry. By my teenage years, I was helping care for my younger sister as my mother's health declined. I didn't drop out of high school, but I did have to repeat my senior year, not from apathy, but because caretaking and survival had taken priority.

By every statistic, my story should have ended early or quietly disappeared.

Instead, it became formative.

Those environments taught me strength. They taught me pattern recognition. They taught me how small, unspoken things shape people long before the big moments ever arrive.

What I didn't know yet was that many of those survival tools, unexamined, would later become foxes of their own.

I first encountered Jesus in 2004.
But it wasn't until 2010 that everything changed.

I was sitting in an arena in Fort Worth when a speaker stopped mid-message, overwhelmed with emotion, and said simply: "You don't understand how much He loves you."

Something in me knew I didn't.

I asked God to reveal His love, not as an idea, but as a lived reality. And He did.

From that moment on, my faith stopped being theoretical. I began to see God in the details. Every breath, every mile driven safely, every moment held together by grace I hadn't earned. That revelation rewired how I understood authority, love, discipline, and presence.

Faith cost me everything.
And it gave me everything worth having.

For years, I believed the biggest dangers were the obvious ones: the explosions, the breakdowns, the moments you can't ignore.

I was wrong.

The real work started when I noticed the small things:

• The default reactions.
• The quiet assumptions.
• The patterns I said I'd never repeat, showing up under pressure.

Especially in parenting.

I could articulate how I wanted to raise my kids. But in moments when there was no time to think, I reached instinctively for tools I had never confronted. That's when I realized: what we don't name, we eventually become.

Those are the foxes.

Not the dramatic failures, but the unnoticed habits that quietly shape our lives.

Over the last decade and a half, I've done the slow work.

I've been married for over twelve years. I've worked in and around churches, counseling environments, leadership teams, and spiritual formation spaces. I've pursued self-work in every form available to me: therapy, prayer, community, study, and solitude.

Along the way, I built and scaled multiple six-figure businesses, each producing over seven figures in total revenue, while navigating grief, loss, calling, and transition. At one point, God clearly asked me to shut down a successful business and step into coaching instead. Trusted friends and prophetic confirmations echoed the same direction.

So I listened.

This work is the result of that obedience.

I don't rush people.
I don't hype outcomes.
I don't promise transformation in 30 days.

I slow things down, on purpose.

Because clarity doesn't come from intensity.
It comes from attention.

Catching the Foxes is about learning to see what's already shaping you so you can choose a different path, rather than repeating one unconsciously.

This isn't about fixing yourself.
It's about seeing clearly enough to walk free.

If you're looking for quick answers, this may not be for you.

But if you're tired of carrying patterns you didn't choose, reacting in ways you don't recognize, or feeling like something unseen keeps pulling you off course, there's another way forward.

You don't have to outrun your past.
You don't have to deny it either.

You just have to be willing to see.