Taylor Made Triumph

04/18/2026

Sometimes the most powerful thing you can say…
is nothing at all.

When someone is grieving, words often fall short.
There is no perfect thing to say.
No sentence that can fix what they’re feeling.

But a hug…

A real, unhurried, present hug…
can say everything words cannot.

It’s not just comfort —
it’s medicine.

It says,
“You don’t have to carry this alone.”

And even science shows…
it takes about 20 seconds of a hug
for your body to begin releasing calming, feel-good hormones.

So don’t rush it.

Don’t be the first one to let go.
Let them pull away.

Because in that moment…
they may need that connection longer than you expect.

If someone in your life is grieving…
this is your reminder:
just be there. 🌻

💬 Comment “HUG” if you’ve ever had a hug that said more than words ever could. 🫂

A veces, lo más poderoso que puedes decir...
es no decir nada en absoluto.

Cuando alguien está de duelo, las palabras a menudo se quedan cortas.
No existe una frase perfecta para decir.
Ninguna oración capaz de arreglar lo que sienten.

Pero un abrazo...

Un abrazo real, sin prisas, presente...
puede decir todo aquello que las palabras no pueden.

No es solo consuelo;
es medicina.

Muestra:
«No tienes que cargar con esto a solas».

E incluso la ciencia lo demuestra:
bastan unos 20 segundos de abrazo
para que tu cuerpo comience a liberar hormonas calmantes y de bienestar.

Así que no te apresures.

No seas tú quien se separe primero.
Deja que sea la otra persona quien se aparte.

Porque, en ese momento...
es posible que necesite esa conexión durante más tiempo del que esperas.

Si alguien en tu vida está pasando por un duelo...
este es un recordatorio para ti:
simplemente, estate ahí. 🌻

💬 Comenta «ABRAZO» si alguna vez has recibido un abrazo que dijo más de lo que las palabras podrían decir jamás.

04/18/2026

Grief doesn’t just live in your heart… it lives in your body too.
So today, I chose something simple—
fresh air, real food, and a moment to breathe.

You don’t have to fix everything… just support yourself in small ways 🤍

If you feel comfortable sharing… what’s one small thing that’s helped you lately? 🌻
Emily Van De Ven

04/17/2026

PEOPLE ASK ME:
“Do I really need Jesus to go to heaven?”

Meanwhile…
I’m over here like —
you need Jesus just to survive Walmart 😝🛒

Life is chaotic.
The world can feel loud, overwhelming, and out of control…
especially in Walmart.

But also…
especially in grief.
Especially in trauma.
Especially when you’re carrying the kind of pain that doesn’t stay behind when you walk out the door.

But peace?

That doesn’t come from perfect circumstances.
It comes from Him. ✝️

Not a peace that removes the chaos…
but a peace that holds you steady in the middle of it.

Even in the storm.
Even in Walmart. 😂

If we need Him for Walmart… imagine how much we need Him for life.

Be honest… what’s the craziest thing you’ve seen in Walmart? 🤪👇

04/17/2026

This is my happy place. 💃
The dance studio became more than just a place to learn…
it became a place to heal.
When you go through trauma or grief,
your body holds onto it—
the stress, the pain, the tension.
And movement?
Movement helps release it.
It lowers cortisol.
It quiets the mind.
It brings you back into your body.
You don’t have to be a dancer.
You just have to move.
If you’re going through something heavy…
this is your sign to get up, move, and give your body a way to breathe again. 🌻

04/14/2026

Grief doesn’t wait for big moments… it finds you in the smallest ones.
Sometimes it’s something so simple—
like filling out a form.

Single or married.

And somehow…
checking single
feels like a quiet dishonor
to a love that still lives inside you.
No one prepares you for that part.
And then, out of nowhere—
years later—
grief rises like a tidal wave.
But here’s the truth I’ve come to understand…
It’s not because you’re broken.
It’s because the love never died.
That’s the cost of loving deeply—
it stays.
And so does the ache.
The depth of your grief
is simply a reflection
of the depth of your love. 💔

As always, at Taylor Made Triumph…
I see you. I hear you. And you are not alone.
Here in this community… this is where tragedy is transformed into triumph. 🌻

04/07/2026

Easter looked different this year.
Surrounded by celebration… while carrying absence.
Grief doesn’t disappear just because it’s Resurrection Day.
But neither does hope.

So even through the tears…
I choose life.
I choose to keep breathing.
To keep loving.
To keep showing up.
Because if you’re still here -
your life still has purpose.
And even if you feel like you’re not far enough along in your healing…
there is always someone behind you who needs your light.

You are not alone. 🌻

04/04/2026

This song is 🔥… the words hit so deeply for anyone walking through grief - especially the loss of a spouse.
Daniel Dax is incredibly talented 🎶

”God, can You hear me? (Can You hear me?)
Can You hear me? (Can You hear me?)
And if You can, could You show me a sign?
Give me somethin' to grab, a glimmer of hope
I'm right on the edge of the mountain of grief...
God, can You hear me?
I'm screamin' at the top of my lungs
Barely breathin'”

There were so many moments over the past 5 years where I cried out to heaven…
and the only response I felt was silence.
A silence so heavy
it stole the air from my lungs.
But I’ve come to learn -
it is often in that stillness…
that God speaks the loudest.
He meets you in the quiet.
He calms the storm within -
even while outside the flames threaten to consume you
and the waters threaten to drown you.
It is in the middle of the storm
that you discover a peace
that truly passes all understanding.
You are not alone 🌻

Esta canción es 🔥… sus palabras calan muy hondo en cualquiera que esté atravesando un duelo, especialmente tras la pérdida de un esposo.
Daniel Dax tiene un talento increíble 🎶

«Dios, ¿puedes oírme? (¿Puedes oírme?)
¿Puedes oírme? (¿Puedes oírme?)
Y si puedes, ¿podrías enviarme una señal?
Dame algo a lo que aferrarme, un destello de esperanza.
Estoy justo al borde de la montaña del duelo...
Dios, ¿puedes oírme?
Estoy gritando a todo pulmón,
apenas puedo respirar».

Hubo tantos momentos a lo largo de los últimos 5 años en los que clamé al cielo…
y la única respuesta que sentí fue el silencio.
Un silencio tan pesado
que me robó el aire de los pulmones.
Pero he llegado a comprender que...
a menudo es en esa quietud...
donde Dios habla con mayor fuerza.
Él sale a tu encuentro en el silencio.
Él calma la tormenta interior,
incluso cuando, afuera, las llamas amenazan con consumirte
y las aguas amenazan con ahogarte.
Es en medio de la tormenta
donde descubres una paz
que verdaderamente trasciende todo entendimiento.
No estás solo 🌻


Short:
https://youtube.com/shorts/ht9BVR46DO8?si=YGafjn-dbB6Qseuf

Full song:
https://youtu.be/6S4abTpJFRo?si=BhBUEN5hsIUUpusI

"God Can You Hear Me?" was a legitimate question I had. I'm praying somehow this song and video can answer it for others and it reaches those who need it.Sha...

04/04/2026

Jesús podría haber evitado el Viernes Santo. Podría haber convocado a todos los ángeles del cielo para aniquilar a cada persona que estaba de pie, gritando: ¡Crucifíquenlo!. No lo hizo. Él sabía que, para que hubiera un Domingo, tenía que haber un Viernes. Sabía que, para experimentar la alegría, hay que cargar con la propia cruz. Él sintió todo ese día. Sintió cómo se te partía el corazón en mil pedazos cuando tuviste que ver morir a tu bebé. Cargó con el peso de la pena que has sentido desde que falleció tu cónyuge, haciendo que la vida ya no parezca tener sentido desde entonces. En esa cruz, Él sostuvo al violador y al asesino, al pecador y al santo. Niveló el campo para todos y declaró: ¡Todos ustedes valen la pena!.
Él nunca prometió que la cruz que cargas en esta vida no sería pesada. La suya no lo fue. Su promesa es que el Domingo está por llegar.
Sin importar cuán pesado sea el Viernes: ya sea financiera, emocional, mental o físicamente. El Viernes es pesado. Esa cruz te está abrumando y sientes que estás a punto de desmoronarte bajo su peso. Su promesa fue, sencillamente, esta: no te hará cargarla a solas. Oh, sí que es pesada. Tan pesada, a veces, que crees que no podrás dar ni un paso más. Pero alza la vista, porque el Domingo está por llegar.

04/04/2026

Jesus could have stopped Good Friday. He could have called every angel in heaven to demolish every person standing and shouting "Crucify Him!" He didn't. He knew in order to have a Sunday you have to have a Friday. He knew in order to have joy you have to carry your cross. He felt everything that day. He felt how your heart broke wide open when you had to watch your baby die. He carried the weight of the burden you have felt since your spouse died and life just doesn't seem right since. On that cross he held the ra**st and murderers, the sinner and the saint. He leveled every playing field and said ALL of you are worth it.
He never promised the cross you carry in this life would not be heavy. His wasn't. His promise is that Sunday is coming.
No matter how heavy Friday is. Financially, emotionally, mentally, or physically. Friday is heavy. That cross is weighing you down and you are about to crumble under its weight. His promise was simply this - He won't make you carry it alone. Oh yes it is heavy. So heavy sometimes you do not think you can take one more step. But look up, because Sunday is coming.

04/02/2026

When a spouse dies, you’re not only left with a tangled web of paperwork, legal issues, and financial mess…
you’re suddenly handed a second full-time job.
Everything your spouse once carried is now on your shoulders -
with no preparation, no training, no warning.
And you’re expected to navigate it all with widow brain -
when your mind feels foggy, overwhelmed.
When your brain has literally shut down, trying to protect you from the weight of it all.
Losing a spouse doesn’t just break your heart -
it touches every single part of your life.
And some days, you realize you can’t hold it all together.
So you stop fighting the waves…
and you let them roll in.
And in that surrender -
you lean on God to carry what you can’t.
🌻 You are not alone.

Emily Van De Ven
*This picture was taken of me in Pontevedra, Spain on the Camino de Santiago.