What a 39-Year-Old Mother of 5 Taught Me About Conviction

On the week of my 39th birthday I was ruminating about being almost 40 when I came across the jarring story of a woman who was 39 years old when she was tragically murdered by the Klu Klux Klan in 1965.   

Viola Liuzzo had just participated in a march, led by Martin Luther King Jr, toward the Alabama capitol to fight for the right of African Americans to register to vote.  The marchers were brutally and murderously intercepted numerous times by state police. While driving an African American teenager home after the march, Viola was chased down, run off the road, and fatally shot by Klan members. Her tragic shooting brought national attention to the cause as the only white woman to be killed in the Civil Rights Movement. Her death created enough of a stir to directly influence the passing of the Voting Rights Act of 1965.

Viola Liuzzo wasn’t a lifelong civil rights activist—she was a housewife and student who felt called to action, and she left behind 5 children. 

Upon reflection on Viola’s death, and my tenuous motherhood at 39,  I felt compelled to examine my commitment to courageous action and answering my own calling.  As a single mother, my devotion to my two children was paramount and unquestionable.  Without diminishing the sacred role of motherhood, I still had to ask myself: Would I be willing to risk that fragile station in order to fully live my truth?

Just 60 years ago, people were putting their lives on the line to confront the glaring injustices of racial inequality and demanding freedoms many of us now take for granted. Brave men and women risked everything—some paying the ultimate price—to advance the cause of human rights and personal freedoms. Theirs was a courage so potent that it reshaped society.  And I couldn’t help but wonder: Why am I so afraid to share my convictions as if they are so revolutionary?

I am thankful for the courage and legacy of a 39 year old women that made a decision to stand for truth. Her sacrifice, no doubt, left a huge wake in the midst of her young family.  I am sure the pain of that loss still echoes through their lives to this day. Her death was not in vain. Viola Liuzzo, a 39-year-old mother of five, acted from an undeniable conviction in a better and more equitable society—a conviction that led her to risk everything for justice.

My birthday has rolled around a couple more times since I happened upon this inspiring story.  Unlike Viola, I am fortunate to have lived 2 years past my 39th.  Two years ago, I asked myself: Do I believe in anything so deeply that I’d be willing to sacrifice everything for it?

Now, at 41, perhaps the question has shifted: “How fully am I willing to LIVE–in alignment with my Truth, even without permission, recognition, or certainty?

I’ve drawn deep inspiration from Harriet Tubman, who, despite achieving her own hard-won freedom, refused to settle into a life of comparative ease and safety. Instead, she risked everything—again and again—to lead others toward the same liberation she had struggled to gain for herself against all odds.

Like Viola and Harriet, I found myself standing at a crossroads—not one of life and death, but of purpose and conviction. Their courage compelled me to ask: What am I willing to risk, not for survival, but for the fullest expression of my truth?

I can see that version of me at 39, just stepping into the work of sharing, trying to elbow my way into visibility—feeling this deep, urgent desire to cut through the noise and cry above the commotion: This way out, folks. Here’s how we get free… Except, I didn’t even have a complete map myself. And who was I to lead the way?

But the pain of my own long-repressed potential fueled my determination. I didn’t need to wax eloquent—I just needed to take action. Messy action. Uncertain action. But action nonetheless.

From that moment of decision, I see the twists and turns that followed: First, I thought I’d make a living as a blogger (as if that’s a thing—well, it is, but… who, me?). Then I considered getting my master’s in counseling. Then I was sure the right next step was to become a full-time life coach. And somehow, after two years of searching, I circled right back to where I began—non-negotiably expressing my soul through writing.

It took me two years to unlock the key to this activation: to release the destination.  To simply act with no insistence on the outcome, to follow inspiration even in uncertainty.  Not at the risk of my life—only at the risk of my sensitive ego. And my children will still be clothed and fed…

I’m continually learning to balance this action with trust, inertia with surrender.

Viola Liuzzo, Harriet Tubman, and countless others answered the call without knowing where it would lead. Their courage shaped the world in ways they would never fully see. This year, I chose to answer the call of my Soul—to show up, take the next step, and trust the process. To abandon a lifelong quest for approval and place my hand firmly on the proverbial plow—tending to the work without demanding a reward beyond the satisfaction of self-expression. To move forward, not for recognition or validation, but for the pure, undeniable need to express what is truest and most alive within me.

• What does it mean to answer the call of your soul, even when the path is uncertain?
• What might unfold if you stopped waiting for certainty before taking the next step?