The Unexpected

I didn’t plan to create anything today.

But days like the last 24 hours 

don’t leave you empty—

they leave you holding something

you have to do something with.

So I did.

The project I released this week

feels a lot like life imitating art.

The songs on that project weren’t written for today.

They came from a retrospective—

a collection of moments

I had already lived through.

But somehow…

they still found their way here.

Not to explain it.

Not to make sense of it.

Just to give it somewhere to go.

For me, sleep is a precious commodity.

Often comes in short supply.

I’ve been negotiating with it for the last few months.

Yesterday was heavy.

We were hit with unexpected news—

the kind that doesn’t knock,

just lands.

And the truth is…

I was already tired.

Mentally taxed

for reasons I won’t name.

Just know—my plate is full

in more directions than I can neatly explain.

We’ve been working through that.

Carrying it. Managing it.

Doing what you do when life doesn’t pause.

And then today came

like a ton of bricks.

There’s never a good time

for things like this.

But this one—

it didn’t wait for space.

It just added weight.

And it took me a minute…

to even sit with it.

To breathe.

To release anything at all.

Because my instinct isn’t to stop.

It’s to hold.

To keep moving.

To keep functioning.

To keep everything from spilling over.

But nights like this—

they don’t let me pretend.

Because I don’t sleep well

to begin with.

Sleep and I—

we’ve never had an easy relationship.

I don’t fall into it.

I wrestle with it.

And when the day carries more

than I’ve actually processed—

night shows me the truth.

Everything I pushed through

comes back.

Not quietly.

Not gently.

Just… present.

And I’m left there

with a full mind

and a tired body

trying to figure out

how to shut it all off.

But I can’t.

Because this was never just about sleep.

It’s about everything I’m carrying

that I haven’t released.

And if I’m honest—

a lot of that

I’ve been trying to carry on my own.

Like I can manage it.

Like I can organize it.

Like if I just stay strong enough,

I won’t feel it the same way.

But that’s not how this works.

Because eventually—

it all asks for space.

And lately…

that space has been showing up

in the middle of the night.

So tonight,

I’m doing something different.

Not fixing it.

Not solving it.

Not even trying to make sense of all of it yet.

Just… releasing.

God, I don’t have the capacity for all of this right now.

God, I don’t understand why it’s happening this way.

God, I’m tired.

And I don’t need a full answer tonight. 

I just need you to carry it.

Because maybe rest

was never meant to come

from having everything figured out.

Maybe it comes

from finally letting it go.

Even if just a little.

Even if just for tonight.

Sleep still isn’t guaranteed for me.

But peace—

even in pieces—

is.

And maybe that’s enough

to close my eyes.

It’s in capable hands and being held.

In offering my mess, He offers rest…

-Louda 

Steady Too

A Quiet Release: Ramblings of a Misfit

Why I Released an Album Without Saying a Word

I didn’t announce this.

No buildup.  

No teasers.  

No “something big is coming.”

Just… a release.

An album, quietly dropped into the world.

And that was intentional.

Not just a name

This is Louda.

I didn’t always go by Louda.

Most people know me as Laura.
That’s how I introduce myself.
That’s the name that shows up in rooms, on paper, in conversations.

But Louda…
Louda sits different.

Louda is what a few people have always called me.

It started in high school.
A close friend of mine began saying my name in Spanish—Louda—the way my grandmother did.

And something about that stuck.

Not because it sounded different…
but because it felt different.

It felt like home.
Like heritage.
Like something rooted deeper than introduction.

Over time, a small circle adopted it.
That circle has shifted, naturally.

The people in it now are the ones who have seen me clearly—
not just who I am in a moment,
but who I’ve been becoming over time.

But Louda isn’t just a name.

It’s a realization.

And to this day, only a small handful of people call me Louda—
not because it’s widely known,
but because it stayed where it started… personal.

And I’ve never felt the need to make it more than that.

---

I grew up in leadership.

From the age of 16, I was already stepping into roles within the Hispanic Baptist Convention circles—serving, leading, showing up in ways that most people don’t see until much later in life.

By the time I reached young adulthood, I had carried titles, responsibilities, and expectations that shaped how others saw me…
and if I’m being honest—how I saw myself.

Then my dad became a pastor.

And just like that, I stepped into what many call “the glass house.”

Where everything is visible.
Everything is interpreted.
Everything is discussed—whether you’re part of the conversation or not.

I wrote about that season before—what it meant to live as a PK.

The pressure.
The assumptions.
The weight of navigating faith, leadership, and identity under constant observation.

And for a long time, I tried to find the “right” way to exist in it.

---

But here’s the truth I didn’t have language for back then:

I was never meant to blend in.

I’ve always been… disruptive.

Not for the sake of disruption—
but because I’ve never been able to sit comfortably with “good enough.”

I question things.
I challenge things.
I see gaps that others would rather ignore.

And that creates tension.

It always has.
And I’ve come to accept that it likely always will.

You’re either appreciated for it…
or you’re resisted because of it.

There’s rarely an in-between.

And for a long time, I wrestled with that.

Because when you grow up in environments where harmony is valued—
being the one who disrupts it doesn’t always feel like strength.

It feels like misalignment.

---

Time—and experience—have a way of clarifying things.

There was a season where everything shifted for me.

When my brother-in-law received a terminal diagnosis,
my focus became very clear.

Family.

Not in theory.
Not in words.
In presence.

I stepped away from ministry circles, from expectations, from roles I had once carried—and chose to be where I knew I was needed most.

And I remember asking myself:

What business do I have serving others… if I’m not serving my own family in their time of need?

That decision wasn’t understood by everyone.

There were assumptions.
There were conversations—just not with me.

But I had peace.

And I’ve learned that peace will teach you more about alignment
than approval ever will.

---

That season didn’t pull me away from my faith.

It made it my own.

Because when everything external quiets down—
titles, roles, expectations—

you’re left with what actually sustains you.

And for me, it wasn’t performance.
It wasn’t perception.

It was a deeply rooted, personal faith
that had nothing to prove to anyone else.

---

And somewhere along the way…
I stopped trying to make myself easier to understand.

That’s when Louda fully emerged.

Not as a nickname.

But as clarity.

As natural to me
as daughter,
sister,
wife,
aunt.

---

Louda is the part of me that:

doesn’t shrink to keep things comfortable
doesn’t settle for surface-level answers
doesn’t perform for acceptance
and doesn’t apologize for seeing things differently

Louda is rooted in where I come from—
my culture, my faith, my family.

But she’s also shaped by where I’ve been—
the pressure, the tension, the growth, the choosing.

---

And the truth is—
I’m not widely known as Louda.

It’s stayed with a small circle,
and that’s never felt like something I needed to change.

---

And if I’m being honest—

some may say this looks late.

But I chose quiet.
I chose private.
I protected my peace.

---

And part of why I’m choosing to write now—
is because over the last few years,
I’ve had more conversations than I can count
with people navigating the same tensions.

Different details.
Same weight.

And that stayed with me.

Because if what I’ve walked through
can help someone move with more clarity,
more confidence,
or even just a little less hesitation—
then the experience wasn’t in vain.

“Experience is learning from wisdom—preferably not your own.”

---

So this space—this writing, this expression—
this is Louda.

Not louder in volume.

Clearer in truth.

Grounded in faith.
Unapologetic in identity.
Still learning.
Still becoming.

Still moving forward.
— Louda

Ten Toes Down

Deadman walking

It’s been a while—about two years since my last post.

I tend to oscillate in how transparent I am about what’s going on in my life. I think part of that comes from being a PK and spending much of my young adult life in leadership roles. You learn quickly what needs to be protected when you’re living in a bit of a glass house.

I used to write more regularly—mostly as a form of catharsis. But life has been heavy for a while now across a number of fronts and I felt the need to keep things under wraps. Some of that is my own doing. I won’t go into details, but I fully accept responsibility for my choices.

I’ve come to believe that not everything requires an apology. If you didn’t mean to do or say something, then it shouldn’t have happened in the first place. And if you did mean it, then the responsibility isn’t to apologize—it’s to own the consequences that follow.

Lately, we’ve been focused on one thing: peace.

Chasing peace has meant letting go of things—and people—that haven’t served us well. For too long, we tolerated behaviors we shouldn’t have. So we started setting boundaries and choosing a different direction.

It hasn’t been without friction.

But the unnecessary drama? It’s largely gone.

And in its place—there’s peace.

And no, it hasn’t been easy.

But I wouldn’t trade that peace for anything.

Life has also been moving quickly. Our youngest nephew is graduating from high school, and the oldest is finishing college this year. It feels like just yesterday I was driving 3–6 hours to babysit or spend a day with them. Now they’re grown young men.

Watching that transition has been incredible—and bittersweet. They’re not babies anymore. Recently, I found myself going through old videos, and I felt nothing but gratitude. I was aware, even then, that those moments were fleeting. I chose to be present. I chose to show up.

I have no regrets.

I’d make those same choices again.

On another front, I’m wrapping up my third master’s degree and currently applying to a doctoral program. That path has always been part of the plan—it’s just been about timing and finding the right program.

Like many things in my life, it comes down to trusting the Lord’s timing. When He moves, it’s often quick, clear, and decisive. This next step unfolded just like that—within a matter of weeks, everything aligned.

There’s still a lot of work ahead.

I’ve been spending time with mentors and doing a lot of reflection on what comes next. Some people are content staying in the same role for 20+ years. That’s never been me.

The project I’m focused on right now is exactly what I need for this season.

But I can feel it—something is shifting.

And I wouldn’t be surprised if that change comes before the end of the year.

This past year has been about coming out of burnout. It’s been heavy. At times, I felt lost—like I wasn’t quite myself.

Life has been turned upside down in a number of ways over the past few years. But through it all, I’ve been reminded of the importance of faith and the reassurance that there is a greater purpose at work.

I’ve also been reminded that the work matters. What we put in doesn’t return void. And He who began a good work will be faithful to complete it.

If the decisions I made in my early 20s had the final say, I wouldn’t be where I am today. That perspective has deepened my gratitude—for second chances, for growth, and for grace.

None of this happened by chance.

It’s been built through perseverance—through hard work, discipline, and resilience.

There was a time when pursuing a doctoral program felt out of reach.

Now, I can say with confidence: but God.

I don’t believe in coincidence.

Only in grace—and the quiet, steady work of becoming.

This past year has been a season of resurrection.

What lies ahead is elevation—moving forward with clarity and purpose.

Deadman Walking

Chief’s Kingdom

Someone said to me “oh you cheer for the Chiefs because Pat Mahomes went to Tech….you drink that TTU cool-aid..” I replied, “that’s part of it but it’s a lot deeper than that.”

Now I’m no football expert but I know enough to be dangerous and I know more about the respective teams I cheer for. I’ve never believed in having phony alliances or finicky loyalty. 

First let me explain the TTU alliance. It’s true I did my graduate work at TTU and have two (2) Master’s degrees from TTU. 

But I’m also a legacy alumna. My dad obtained his Bachelor’s and Master’s there. My brother has his MBA from there and my mom took several graduate level courses but ultimately obtained her Masters in Supervision (education) from Angelo State where I obtained my Bachelor’s degree. I have at least five cousins who attended and four who finished their degrees there. So I’m a legacy alumna in the truest sense. I’ve always been proud to rep the red and black. 

Given the family connection , after my dad finished his graduate work, he started buying us season tickets around the mid-to-late 2000’s to attend games as a family. So every other weekend was spent going to home games in Lubbock. My bro started grad school after my dad finished so it was a good excuse to go see him. After my bro graduated, I joined him in Lubbock and we continued attending games. Though by then, my mom dropped out of the family outing and would watch from my bro’s house or my apt but she dropped us off and picked us up. So TTU football has long been part of our family tradition. We stopped with season tickets when we were going out to Houston more often and when I moved to Austin. Got more and more difficult to travel the 6+ hrs every other weekend. But we faithfully watch and catch a games as we’re able. We at least check in on the scores whether it be football, basketball, or baseball! 

When Ricardo and I married, neither one of us had a team we cheered for in the NFL. We were neutral for the first few years. But then Pat got drafted and our dear friend Chris got sick. He was a die hard Chief’s fan. He was a Boomer Sooner too…we overlook that! But it was the year Chris got sick. We watched a Chief’s game with him as we talked about his condition and outcome. He was always hopefully and ever trustful that God had a plan. My husband told him, “we don’t have a team. Maybe we’ll cheer for the Chiefs?” I remember his smile when my husband told him that. 

We know alot of folks cover us in prayer but if anyone’s words have had such a significant impact on our marriage, it’s Chris’s words… his actions conveyed thru stories by his wife. His humility and willingness to make things right. I often hear Chris’s words to me “Sister grace…sister grace…” He understood grace far more intimately than I think I will ever understand myself. I’m not naturally merciful or give grace freely…as I’ve aged I’ve learned. My husband has most definitely helped me with that. He’s also tested me more times than I can recount…but in the hard moments when I think, this is too hard…I hear those words “Sister….grace….”

And so cheering for the Chiefs while there’s some truth in the TTU Alumni loyalty…it’s also in memory of our dear friend. I have no doubt had he survived cancer, we woulda taken our first cruise with him and his wife. I’m sure there’s plenty more wisdom he would’ve imparted and prayers sown on our behalf…

So when the Chiefs win we think of our friend and how he gifted us the remembrance of Grace in our marriage but also the gift of cheering for the Chief’s Kingdom! It’s something Ricardo and I do together. It’s how we spend time together and time in fellowship with others in our circle. Chief’s Kingdom to me is a gift of grace! 

Thank you Chris (more than you could know) and we know we’ll see you again! #ChiefsKingdom

Has it really been that long?

I think the last time I posted was a year ago. Boy life sure does look different. A lot happening in our household as of late. Around this time last year, my sister was settling in to her new home. She decided to move her family back to our home town in late June. Pretty incredible how, once again, things have pretty much laid themselves out. We know it’s providence and no coincidence. She got her home on the market and they close soon. Her boys are with my folks, making the transition and getting ready to start a new school year at their former school. Given everything that has transpired over this last year, I have no clue what this upcoming year is going to be like. 

We had a nephew graduate this year, our niece settling in to her second year of marriage. My sister’s wrapping up her move. My brother is happily in a relationship and we like her too. My in-laws are celebrating their postponed 50th anniversary and we’re likely headed back to our offices sometime in 2022. 

Early in our relationship, we really tried to cater to our families. I think I’ve written about our first year married. My boss gave me some good advice during that year. He said do what makes you guys happy, family can get over it. We learned he was right. No one will ever understand what is best for us but us. And at every turn, where we’ve had to make hard decisions about a number of things, we’ve been either on the same page or nearing the same page. 

We’ve really figured out where our lines in the sand are and what we’re willing or not willing to contend with. This summer we had to make a number of hard decisions. I used to think drama had to be included in that process but I’ve learned from my husband that simply is not true. We are capable of making rational healthy decisions as adults. If we’re both in agreement, we can move on and if not then we have to work to resolve those differences. In many instances, we stopped to reflect on history. History has informed many of our choices this season. Do we want to sit in a place of turmoil or let things go and move on to a more peaceful place? The later has won out every time. I’ve learned that people can and will hurt you but only to the extent that you let them. I’ve learned that hurt without provocation is a warning. In this current season, we’ve chosen to focus on nurturing healthy relationships.

Today is my birthday. This evening, I was chatting with a close family friend. I was struck by a few things but one was just reflection. I’ve know this lady a super long time!!! And I just reflected on where we were when we met and where we are today. I’m grateful for the people put in our lives who have taught us how to persevere in trial. It’s easy to have great people in your life when things are going well. It’s a beautiful commodity to have incredible people in your life when things aren’t going well. That’s what we’ve learned this season. The people who are really in our corner. 

We’ve had some falling outs and whatever the situation, I’ve learned to never wish ill’ly on those who you perceive have slighted you. You never really know what’s going on in their world and it may never be meant for you to know. But I do believe that whatever you put out into the world will comeback to you 7-fold. Call it karma, call it reaping what you sow…I’ve seen to fulfilled time and time again. So while my natural propensity might be towards exacting revenge, I fully know I don’t need to pursue that course of action because the powers that be will take care of every situation. The truth always comes out, it’s never hidden in the dark. 

We’ve also resolved to not be held to other people’s projections or assumptions. We don’t allow others to put their actions on us making all things our fault when some if not the majority of actions contributed came from another party. I can only be responsible for my own actions and if I’m truly sorry, I will apologize. But I won’t ever apologize for something I’m not sorry for. Call it defiance, call it whatever you want…honestly, it doesn’t matter to me. It’s a long held practice that holds me true to who I am and accountable to the things I do. More than a little tired of the pot calling the kettle black. 

Can you tell it’s been a heavy summer? 

I do believe reconciliation is always possible but reconciliation doesn’t necessarily mean things continue as they were before. I’ve always felt that you can “cross lines in the sand” that can never be taken back. It’s why when I act or speak I’m fully prepared to deal with and accept the consequences of those choices. I don’t pretend to be nice or to be kind though I do work at trying to be those things. But my human frailty causes me to fail miserably at times. It’s why my husband will tell you frankly “she can be the kindest and most generous person you know and she can be horrifically mean.” Does it mean I shouldn’t strive to be better, no? It just means I’m human. We all are. I try to keep that in mind when reconciliation is at stake. I don’t know where some of our relationships will go especially those that have been in limbo for a very long time. What I can say is we have firmly decided what we will or will not tolerate and that is what ultimately leads us. We treasure peace of mind and tranquility and we are much more keenly aware that life is but a vapor and we are on borrowed time. 

I’m grateful to see another year of life. Grateful for the really incredible people and family in our lives. We don’t dwell on the things out of our control. There are many, many more changes coming this year. But change has come in different forms for most of our lives. From experience I know we can rage against it or embrace it but either way, it will still arrive. 

One of the hard changes this last year was losing our beloved, Lulu. She got progressively ill throughout July and reached a point where her body was not capable of sustaining her life. I loved her uniquely. I chose her to be adopted into our family and while she loved, Ricardo, I always considered her my baby. She leaves behind her fury brother Duncan, who has had some difficulties adjusting. But he’s such a sweet boy with a very different personality. We’re taking time to grieve Lulu and to love on Duncan. Loss has a way of making you grateful for what you have. So in this season, I’m most grateful for my own nucleus of a family: Ricardo and Duncan. Ricardo is not only my husband, he is my partner, my friend, and my most trusted confidant. His birthday is in 9 days. 

Due to COVID and Lulu’s passing, we’ve opted for small family gatherings. Ricardo’s will include a few others but I’ve asked for a low key celebration with my immediate family. Sometimes you just need to be encircled by that kind of love. If anything I’ve learned in this season, is how important that love can be as a pillar to stand you up when you cannot on your own strength. We’ve been in a season of mourning and grieving and I suspect will be in one for a while longer. Yes she was a fury family member but she’s not the only thing we mourn in this season. 

What I am most assured of is that this season is for a time and that a new season will arrive. Not worried about what is to come or how things will resolve. I’ve seen this played out before in my life. It’s all in the perfect and capable hands of one who is greater and that allows us to rest at night and for the moment, give thanks and celebrate another year of life. For all the ways we’ve been blessed and for the time of peace to mourn we’ve been granted, I’m extremely grateful! 

All things...

Won’t He Do It

Powering me the last few weeks. 

The Way Maker revisited

In light of the events of these last two weeks. This is largely where my heart is. 

Justice is what love looks like publicly. ~ Cornel West