Meet Michelle
Founder of Storybrook Ministries
Chaplain • Christian Counselor • Author • Speaker
Hi, I’m Michelle.
I have spent much of my life listening to people’s stories.
Some have been shared across a counseling table, over cups of coffee, in churches, and in those conversations that begin with, “I don’t usually tell people this, but…”
I have listened to women trying to make sense of grief, change, relationships, faith, identity, and lives that turned out very differently from what they once imagined.
And then, of course, there is my own story.
That may be the most important thing I can tell you about me.
I Haven’t Always Felt Qualified to Tell It
I wish I could tell you that loving God and wanting to serve Him meant I always got things right, understood what He was doing, or lived a life that unfolded neatly.
I didn’t.
I have loved Jesus for most of my life. I have served in ministry, studied theology, taught Scripture, raised children, prayed for people, and genuinely wanted my life to honor God.
And I have still gotten things wrong.
There are chapters I would have written differently if I could. Decisions I questioned. Relationships and circumstances that became complicated. Times I worried far too much about what other people thought of me.
For a while, those things almost convinced me to walk away from ministry altogether. Not because I stopped loving God.
I was afraid I had disappointed Him too much to still be useful to Him.
I understood grace beautifully when I was talking about somebody else. Accepting that same grace when I needed it myself was much harder.
And over time, I began to realize how many Christian women carry some version of that same fear. Sometimes we become so concerned with being the woman we believe we should be that we become frightened by the woman we actually are.
What will people think if they really know?
Did I ruin something God had planned for me?
Am I still qualified?
I know those questions because I have asked them.
Working through that season changed me. It made me less interested in polished answers and much more interested in what is actually happening underneath them. It taught me that a woman can sincerely love God and still be grieving, confused, angry, ashamed, disappointed, afraid, or trying to understand a life she never expected to live.
It also deepened something I now believe very strongly:
A difficult chapter can shape your life without becoming the final definition of who you are or what God can still do through you.
That belief is woven deeply into the work I do today.
My Heart for Storybrook
Storybrook was born where my own story, calling, wounds, healing, faith, imagination, and ministry began coming together.
It was not built from theory. It was built from a life. A life of loving God and learning that He does not only meet us in the polished parts of our stories. He meets us in the honest ones too.
My years as a hospice chaplain and bereavement counselor shaped me deeply. So did losing my own mother. Both taught me that people do not always need someone with the perfect answer. Sometimes they need someone who can listen, stay present, and not be frightened by what hurts.
But grief is only part of what brought me to Storybrook.
My own difficult seasons taught me something else: being changed by what you have lived through is not the same thing as being disqualified by it.
And after God began helping me work through those places in my own life, I knew I wanted to create something for other women who might be asking some of the same questions.
Why I Created Storybrook
I created Storybrook for the woman carrying more than people can see.
The woman who has been strong for a very long time and is tired.
The woman grieving someone she cannot stop loving.
The woman standing in the middle of a major life change wondering, Who am I now?
The woman who has spent years carrying shame, expectations, roles, or beliefs about herself that no longer belong.
And the woman who simply wants somewhere she can tell the truth without feeling as though someone is keeping score.
I never wanted Storybrook to become a place where women felt managed, rushed, spiritually corrected before they had even been heard, or handed easy answers for complicated lives.
I wanted it to feel more like sitting across from someone who is willing to listen long enough to understand.
Someone who loves Jesus, believes Scripture, tells the truth with compassion, and understands that faith does not make a life uncomplicated.
You do not have to impress me.
What You Can Expect From Me
If we sit down together, I am going to listen.
I will probably ask questions. Sometimes very good ones. Occasionally one that makes you look at me and think, Well, I was not planning on thinking about THAT today.
But I am not interested in interrogating your life or handing you a list of everything you should have done differently.
I want to understand you.
What happened. What you believe about it. What it changed. What you are carrying because of it. What you are afraid of. What you hope for. And where God fits into all of this—even if your answer right now is, I honestly don’t know.
I will not agree with everything simply to make you feel better. But I will not use Christianity to shame you either.
I believe grace and truth belong together.
I believe Scripture is alive and trustworthy. I believe prayer matters. I believe the Holy Spirit is still at work. And I believe Jesus is not frightened by grief, questions, tears, anger, regret, confusion, or complicated circumstances.
So Christian care should not be frightened by those things either.
A Little About My Background
I take the responsibility of caring for people seriously, and education has been an important part of preparing me for the work I do today.
But my degrees mean something very personal to me too.
When I was seventeen, someone asked me what I planned to do with my future. At the time, college did not even feel like a realistic possibility. I was trying to figure out transportation just to get to work; imagining myself earning a degree seemed like something meant for somebody else's life.
Life took a few turns before I eventually found my way into a college classroom.
By then, I was a single mom with responsibilities that did not disappear because I had homework. There were seasons when schoolwork happened after my son was asleep, the chores were finished, and everything else that needed me that day had finally become quiet.
So when I tell you that I hold a Bachelor’s degree in Christian Counseling and a Master’s degree in Theology, those degrees represent more to me than education.
They remind me that beginnings do not always tell us what is possible. They remind me of perseverance, calling, and a God who had plans for parts of my life I could not yet see.
My education and experience have prepared me professionally, but earning those degrees also reminds me personally of how much can change between the future we once thought was possible and the one God eventually opens before us. But I never want credentials to create distance between us.
You are not coming to meet my résumé. You are coming to meet me.
And When I’m Not Doing Any of That…
I’m a wife and a mom, and both of those roles have taught me considerably more about myself than I expected.
Brett and I are building Storybrook together on twenty wooded acres in Southern Indiana, which means there is almost always something being repaired, moved, planned, dreamed about, or mysteriously added to a project list that was already too long.
My family matters enormously to me.
I love writing, old things with stories attached to them, wandering through antique stores, a really good cup of coffee, trying new recipes, creating spaces that feel like home, sitting on the porch, walking our property, and dreaming with Brett about what Storybrook might someday become.
I can be deeply serious about something one minute and laughing over something completely ridiculous the next.
There are usually too many tabs open on my computer, I rearrange things more often than necessary, and I am rarely short on ideas. And Brett has learned to be suspicious when I begin a sentence with, “Okay, hear me out…”
And there is a very good chance Meadow, our long-haired German Shepherd, will be approximately six inches behind me while all of this is happening.