All Glory to God — From BI-RADS 4B to Benign and Breathing

I don’t even know where to begin except here:

All glory to God.

Because today, I got the call—the kind of call that makes your whole body go still—and my biopsy results came back benign. No cancer.

And the relief?

It’s overwhelming in a way I don’t think you can understand unless you’ve sat in that waiting space… where time slows down, your mind goes places you don’t want it to go, and every “what if” feels just a little too real.

Let me tell you how serious this felt

This wasn’t a “just in case” situation.

This was a BI-RADS 4B.

If you don’t know what that means, I didn’t either at first. But I learned real quick—it means moderate suspicion of cancer. Not low. Not “we’re just being cautious.” It’s serious enough that they say, “We need to biopsy this.”

So I did.

They took three samples. Ultrasound-guided. Clinical. Quiet. Professional. And still… terrifying.

And then came the waiting.

The kind of waiting that changes you

You keep functioning. You still show up. You still take care of your responsibilities. You still get your child to school, answer emails, make dinner, take care of the house…

But underneath all of that?

You’re holding your breath.

Because there’s a version of your life that could be about to change forever.

And for me, that weight was heavier than most.

Because my mom… my mom died at 51 from cancer.

And I am her age.

So this wasn’t abstract. This wasn’t hypothetical. This was personal. Deeply personal.

And then… the moment

I pulled over to read the results.

Just pulled over. Couldn’t even wait.

And Adelyn—my sweet girl, my future daughter—was right there.

And she looked at me and said,

“God answered my prayer from last night.”

I don’t even know how to explain what that felt like.

It wasn’t just relief.

It wasn’t just joy.

It was something deeper.

It was peace.

What this means moving forward

It means I get to keep going.

I get to move forward with my life—fully.

With work. With school. With everything I’ve been building.

And most importantly…

I get to move forward with this foster-to-adopt journey, if that’s where it leads.

No planning for surgeries.

No pausing life.

No stepping away from the future I’ve been working so hard to create.

Just forward.

If you’re reading this—please hear me

Go get your mammogram.

Go to the appointment.

If they tell you to get the biopsy—GO.

I know it’s scary. I know it sounds terrifying. I know the words alone can make your stomach drop.

But a BI-RADS 4B is not a sentence.

Today proved that.

And catching something early—or ruling it out—can change everything.

Tonight

Tonight, we celebrate.

Not with anything fancy. Not with anything over the top.

Just… gratitude.

Me and my future daughter are going to church.

Because there is no place I’d rather be after a day like this than sitting in that quiet, sacred space, saying thank you.

Final thoughts

To everyone who prayed for me, checked on me, stood with me—thank you. Truly. You carried me through something you may not have even realized the depth of.

And to anyone walking through a scare like this right now:

Hold on.

You are not alone.

You are seen.

And there is still hope.

All glory to God. Always. 💛

Standing on Faith in the Middle of a Storm

Tuesday will mark one month since my life shifted into an entirely new season.

Thirty days of early mornings, long workdays, school assignments, appointments, laughter, a few tears, and the beautiful chaos that comes with building a full and meaningful life. It has also been thirty days of realizing that the life I hoped to create is actually taking shape right in front of me.

Our little household—me, my rescue dog Pippin Took, and my rescue cat Finnian Elijah—has settled into a rhythm here in our cozy two-bedroom, two-bath home in Great Falls. Church activities, community events, summer plans, work, school, and the normal day-to-day busyness of life have filled the calendar in the best possible way.

It’s a full life. A happy life.

And in the middle of all that goodness, life threw one of those “wait and see” moments my way.

This Tuesday I’ll be having a breast biopsy.

If you know me, you know I believe strongly in doing the responsible things when it comes to health. Self-exams. Mammograms. Following up when the letter says something needs a closer look. I hadn’t had a mammogram since 2021, so when this one came back with a question mark, the next step was simply to check it out.

The good news is there are a lot of encouraging signs going into this biopsy.

No symptoms.  

No discharge.  

No pain.  

Healthy tissue otherwise.

The only reason for the biopsy is that one small area appears irregularly shaped on the imaging. And interestingly enough, I started my cycle the very next day after the exam, which can sometimes affect breast tissue. So right now we are simply in that space where we don’t know until we know.

Just to be safe, I also have an appointment scheduled with a breast surgeon afterward to review the results and talk about next steps—whatever they may be.

But here’s the thing.

I’m standing firmly on faith.

No matter what the results say, I will deal with it.

Our bodies change. Life throws curveballs. And part of being an adult is learning to care for ourselves, pay attention to our health, and follow through when something needs to be checked.

That’s why self-exams matter.  

That’s why yearly mammograms matter.  

That’s why follow-ups matter.

If my journey reminds even one woman to schedule that appointment she’s been putting off, then something good will come from it already.

So if you’re reading this, I would be grateful for your prayers.

Prayers for Tuesday’s biopsy.  

Prayers for clear and healthy results.  

Prayers for all the women right now who are sitting in waiting rooms or opening letters with that same knot in their stomach.

Because despite the uncertainty, life here is beautiful.

We’re busy.  

We’re laughing.  

We’re planning ahead.  

We’re showing up for life one ordinary day at a time.

And apparently, I may be one of the only people in Montana actually looking forward to the storm that’s rolling in.

Sometimes a good storm reminds you just how strong your foundation really is.

With gratitude, faith, and a very full heart,  

— Samara

With a Grateful Heart, I Move Forward

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the life I’ve built — not with fanfare, not with shortcuts, and not with anyone carrying me — but quietly, steadily, and with my own two hands.

I did this on my own. With faith. With grit. With tears no one saw and prayers spoken in whispers. And when I look around now, I know — in the deepest, calmest part of my soul — that my parents in heaven are proud of me.

I’ve loved. I’ve lived. I’ve laughed — sometimes through the pain, sometimes because of it. I’ve given my whole heart in this life and I’ve never apologized for doing so. Loving fully is not a weakness. It’s a choice. And I’d make it again.

I have a sweet dog and a sweet cat who greet me like I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to them. I wake up every day grateful — not because life has been perfect, but because it’s been real. God has been faithful to me in ways I couldn’t see while I was still healing old wounds I should have tended to long ago. Better late than never.

I’ve made mistakes. Plenty of them. I haven’t been perfect — not even close. But where I could, I apologized. Where I was given the opportunity, I made amends. And where I couldn’t, I released it. I’ve forgiven myself. God has forgiven me. And that freedom is something no one can take away.

The last several years have changed me in ways people might not recognize. And that’s okay. Growth often looks like becoming unfamiliar to those who knew an earlier version of you. I’ve made peace with every decision I’ve made — not because they were all right, but because I faced them honestly and learned from them.

I’m closing a chapter now. Fully. Finally. With peace in my heart. I did everything I could. I showed up. I tried to be the friend. I tried to live with integrity. And that’s enough.

What matters most now is this: continuing to build a life rooted in faith, purpose, kindness, and peace. A life where the people around me know they are safe, valued, respected, and loved.

Because the world doesn’t need more noise.

It needs more goodness.

No matter your faith. No matter your politics. No matter where you come from — kindness still matters. Forgiveness still matters. Loving Christ, loving one another, and showing empathy still matter.

For the last six years, I’ve tried to add value to my community and my state while quietly healing wounds that ran deep. I’m grateful for every lesson — even the bittersweet ones. I’m thankful for every person who has ever been part of my story, even if they aren’t in the next chapter.

I wish everyone — and I truly mean everyone — the very best life has to offer.

And now, with my chin up and my heart at peace, I move forward. I don’t look back. I’m not Lot’s wife.

This chapter is closed. Gently. Gratefully. For good.

Big news (sort of): I’m moving!

Big news (sort of): I’m moving!

Just kidding — I’m not leaving town or even the neighborhood… just heading across the parking lot. 😄

On December 17, I’ll be trading my one-bedroom for a bigger two-bedroom, two-bath in the next building over at Talus Apartments. Same complex, same floor plan — just more room to actually live a little bigger.

More room for hosting friends. More room for company and overnight guests. More room for dinners, holidays, game nights, and the kind of home where people feel welcome the second they walk through the door.

At 51, I’ve realized something important: home is not just where you sleep. It’s the atmosphere you create. It’s the conversations around the kitchen counter. It’s laughter echoing down the hallway. It’s having enough room to say, “Stay a while.”

And honestly? That’s the kind of life I want to build.

I’ve worked hard for it too. Quietly. Steadily. One step at a time.

Life is moving forward in beautiful ways. I found a new church home at Victory Church, and it’s been such a blessing. I officially joined, and my Next Steps classes begin in January.

I’m also finishing my paralegal certification, and when I do, I’ll combine that with my notary commission to offer mobile notary and paralegal support services across Great Falls and the surrounding rural communities. I won’t be an attorney and cannot give legal advice, but I can help people navigate paperwork, organization, filings, and practical processes that often feel overwhelming.

What matters most to me is accessibility — helping people who are elderly, homebound, disabled, or simply struggling to get where they need to go. Sometimes the smallest acts of service can lift a tremendous burden off someone’s shoulders.

And yes, since I’m also an ordained minister, I can officially marry people now too — which still makes me smile every time I say it.

So 2026 is shaping up to be a year of faith in action, service with purpose, meaningful work, and building a life that feels grounded, peaceful, and full.

I think that’s what this move really represents.

Not running from anything.

Not starting over.

Just expanding. Growing. Making room for joy, community, connection, and whatever blessings God places next in my path.

And honestly, I cannot wait to decorate this place for Christmas. 🎄

With gratitude,

Samara 💛

A New Chapter in Great Falls: Fresh Beginnings, Warm Traditions, and Big Dreams

There’s something deeply grounding about signing another year’s lease in a space that finally feels like home. I just renewed mine here in beautiful Great Falls, and I couldn’t be happier about it. This apartment has become more than four walls—it’s a sanctuary, a workspace, a foster home, and a place where I can recharge and build the life I’ve always envisioned.

The past few weeks have been a flurry of activity and gratitude. The biggest news? I rescued a kitten! His name is Finnian Elijah, a spunky little black kitten with the kind of personality that fills every corner of a room. To my relief (and joy), he and Pippin, my loyal rescue dog, are getting along wonderfully. Watching the two of them bond has been such a heartwarming reminder of what patience, love, and second chances can create.

On the foster front, I’m preparing my home and heart for what I hope will be a new baby placement soon. The state came on Wednesday for my monthly inspection—everything went smoothly—and now I’m just waiting on a call from the social worker. It’s been quite some time since my last placement, and during that season of transition, I gifted most of my baby gear to my last foster baby’s parents and donated the rest to a friend who was expecting a grandchild. So, I’ll be starting from scratch—new crib, bottles, clothes, and all the essentials.

To stay ahead of the curve, I created an Amazon Wish List specifically for the foster home. That way, as soon as I get the call, I can hit “purchase” and have everything here in short order. I’ve also created separate wish lists for my paralegal studies and for home comforts, because if I’ve learned anything over the years, it’s that creating order and warmth in your surroundings fuels every other part of your life.

Professionally, it’s been an exciting season of growth. I submitted an application (and was approved) to the Carnegie Hero Fund, through which I have a full scholarship for my upcoming Paralegal Certificate Course. Classes begin in January, and by April, I’ll officially be certified. Education has always been one of the best investments I can make in myself, and this next step is a key piece of the long-term goals I’m setting in motion.

On top of that, I became a Notary Public, officially commissioned through the Montana Secretary of State, and I also became an Ordained Minister so I can perform weddings—something that fits perfectly with my desire to celebrate love and connection in all its forms. To tie it all together, I’m in the process of forming my own LLC, “406 Covenant & Seal”, which will bring together notary, officiant, and professional document services under one umbrella. It’s practical, professional, and deeply personal—just how I like it.

And yes—because no milestone is complete without a touch of holiday cheer—my apartment is fully decorated for Christmas. The tree is up, the lights are glowing, and the sense of peace that comes with the season is settling in. Between the scent of pine candles, the sound of Pippin’s paws on the floor, and Finnian’s curious kitten antics, it’s impossible not to feel thankful.

This next chapter feels rich with purpose and promise. There’s work to be done, goals to meet, and a heart full of anticipation for what’s next—whether that’s a new foster baby’s laugh filling the home, the satisfaction of earning my paralegal certification, or the joy of building a business from the ground up.

For now, I’m taking it one day at a time—grateful for stability, proud of the progress, and excited for what’s coming. Here’s to growth, gratitude, and good things ahead in Great Falls.

A Chapter Closes, A Life Unfolds

In just a few short weeks—maybe even sooner—I’ll be saying goodbye to a tiny little soul who has, for a season, called me “home.” The baby I’ve been fostering will be reuniting with her family, and with that, my time as a foster mom will come to a close. This chapter, full of lullabies, bottle warmers, midnight snuggles, and unspoken bonds, has been one of the most profound experiences of my life. And it’s one I walk away from with equal parts pride and heartbreak.

Fostering was never meant to be forever for me it seems-it was meant to be enough. Enough to hold space. Enough to help a family heal. Enough to give a baby stability until it was time for them to return to the people who love them and need them most. And now, that time has come.

So what comes next?

I plan to live. To travel without a diaper bag. To stretch out in my bed and maybe even sleep past 6 a.m. To chase joy in all the corners I’ve been too tired or too busy to explore. I’ve worked hard to build a phenomenal career—and now I plan to enjoy the phenomenal living that comes with it.

And I’ll be doubling down on the work that’s long held a place in my heart: standing shoulder to shoulder with Montana’s law enforcement and first responders. I’m looking forward to doing more ride-alongs with city police, sheriff’s deputies, Montana Highway Patrol, and sit-alongs with our dispatchers. I want to spend more time out on the reservations with Tribal Police—listening, learning, and finding new ways to support them even better than I have over the last five years. The more I learn, the more I can serve—and that mission is far from over.

This next chapter? It’s about freedom, fulfillment, and maybe even finding a man I can cook for, clean for, and spoil with love—because despite the armor and the ambition, I’m a nurturer to the core. I want a partner to share my world with—someone who is strong where I am soft and soft where I am strong. And maybe this is the season where that becomes possible.

To everyone who’s been part of my life up until now—thank you. I miss you. For different reasons, in different ways, and with no bitterness. Whether we were meant to be forever, just a moment, or only a memory, I carry your imprint with grace. If we were friends and lost our way, I hope you’re flourishing. If we’re still friends, I’m grateful we had the maturity to redefine what “us” could look like.

And to those I’ve loved and let go of: I cherish what we had. Every laugh. Every late-night talk. Every plan we made that didn’t quite come true. I treasure those memories every single day.

This is not a sad goodbye. It’s a beautiful turning of the page. One chapter ending, another one beginning—with clarity, confidence, and just enough sass to keep things interesting.

Here’s to what’s next.

With love,

Samara

Let it burn, but not too loudly

 “Let It Burn, But Not Too Loudly”

If I smell the smoke and say,

“There’s fire on the way,”

They roll their eyes and mutter low,

“That’s not her place to say.”

If I shout, “Get out! Get clear!”

As flames crawl up the walls,

They frown and ask, “Why yell like that?

Her tone was uncalled for, after all.”

If I drag someone through the door,

Their clothes still catching heat,

They say, “That wasn’t her assigned task.

How dare she leave her seat?”

If I cry, “The roof is falling in!”

They whisper, “She’s too much.”

“She overreacts, she stirs things up,

She’s far too loud, too tough.”

If I ask, “Why weren’t we warned?”

“Who forgot the alarms?”

They hush me like a problem child,

Like truth could somehow harm.

They want me calm while chaos grows,

To smile while people choke,

To pass out paper towels and mops

While everything goes up in smoke.

But I was not made of plastic parts,

Of fake concern and grace.

If a fire’s coming, I will scream—

Even if it’s out of place.

Let them sigh and scold and glare,

Let them call me names,

I’ll carry bodies from the flame

While they play their small, safe games.

I ask what any sane soul would—

They act like it’s a crime.

But I won’t sit pretty and let things burn

Just to be liked in the meantime.

By, 

Samara Sant