It’s a phrase that found me — not when I was at my strongest, but when I felt most uncertain.
It came in quiet moments: sitting alone after a long day, holding back tears in front of a classroom, picking up the pieces of plans that didn’t go as expected.

It’s not about being fearless. It’s about choosing to show up anyway.

Choosing to speak gently when it would be easier to stay silent.

Choosing to start again when it would be easier to give up.

This crown wasn’t handed to me — it was built over time, through motherhood, divorce, reinvention, and leadership.
And while it doesn’t shine like gold, it holds something far more precious: the grit, grace, and growth of a woman who chose to rise.

That’s what it means to be crowned in courage.
Not flawless. Not finished.
Just faithful to the journey—and proud of the woman I’m becoming.

As an early childhood leader, life coach, and mentor, I’ve seen how the lessons I teach children — resilience, regulation, reimagination — are often the ones we need most ourselves.

This blog is where I teach what I’ve lived. Where I write through the messy middle. And where I hope someone out there feels a little less alone in their own becoming.

If you’ve ever had to start over with shaky hands and a steady heart… this space is for you.

A pause, maybe a sigh… and then — they start again.

They don’t call it resilience. But it is.

In my classroom, resilience looks like:

• Trying again after a fall.

• Speaking up even when it’s hard.

• Saying sorry and making things right.

And somewhere along the way, I realised—I had forgotten how to do that.

As a mother, mentor, and early childhood leader, I’ve walked with others through change.

But when my own tower tumbled down, I froze. A few years back, the marriage I painstakingly built fell apart after 16 years... it seems almost impossible to rebuild. I lost almost everything - my identity, my dreams, my hopes, my "perfect" life...

"What would people think of me?"

Then I thought of the children.

They didn’t wait for perfection. They didn’t need applause.

They just tried again.

That’s what I did and I'm still doing it with shaky hands, and a heart full of hope.

To anyone rebuilding:

You don’t need to have it all together.

You just need to begin — one block at a time.

You are still growing.

You are still learning.

One day, you'll be crowned with courage.

Many years back... it was one of those mornings — emails piling up, a staffing issue unfolding, and a last-minute parent request waiting at the door.

I didn't sleep well. I had a big fight with my ex-husband the night before. And, I hadn’t even had my breakfast yet.

I remembered walking into a classroom where a teacher looked flustered, and a child was in full meltdown mode — tiny fists clenched, tears streaming.

Before I could speak, the teacher turned to me and said, “Can you handle him, Ms Vivian? I need to serve breakfast to the rest of the children. ”

I felt it rising in me — frustration, pressure, the sting of being expected to solve everyone's problems.

And for a split second, I wanted to react.
But then I caught the look in that child’s eyes.
Not defiant. Just overwhelmed.
And it dawned on me: He’s not giving me a hard time — he’s having a hard time.

So I did what I often ask my teachers to do...
I paused. I breathed.
I knelt down beside him and gently said,
"It’s okay. I know that you're really sad. I'm here and I can help you. Do you need a hug?"

That moment stayed with me — not because I handled it perfectly, but because I nearly didn’t.

And it reminded me of something powerful we often forget as adults:

Regulation isn’t just for children.
It’s a lifelong skill we keep practicing — even as leaders.

In early childhood, we model emotional regulation constantly:

• Naming feelings (“You look upset.”)

• Offering choices (“Do you want to sit here or hold my hand?”)

• Co-regulating with warmth and patience.

But sometimes, the best lesson isn’t what we teach.
It’s what we live in the moment —especially when things fall apart.

That day, I wasn’t just managing a centre.
I was managing my own emotions, in real time, with little eyes watching.

And maybe… that’s what leadership really is.
Not being perfectly composed.
But being present, human, and willing to model the calm we hope to create.

Two years ago, if you had told me I’d be lying on my sofa and talking to a guinea pig named Long Long — I would’ve laughed.
But here we are.
(And yes, I named him Long Long because he came into my life during the Year of the Dragon. 🐉)

I’m not what you’d call a “pet person.” I’ve spent most of my life focused on people — children, families, teams. Animals weren’t really part of the picture.

But here I am.
Learning how to care for this furry little creature for the very first time.

What surprised me most wasn’t how much work he is — but how much wonder he brings.
The way he squeaks when he hears the fridge opens (it's meal time!)
How he responds to gentle tones and touches.
The way he’s helping me slow down, notice small things, and soften.

And suddenly, I understood why so many children light up around animals.
It’s not just about the novelty.
It’s about connection. Curiosity. Imagination.

In early childhood, we talk a lot about learning through play.
But I think we forget that reimagination isn’t just for children.

Reimagination is the gift of seeing the world not as it is, but as it could be.

Sometimes that looks like turning a cardboard box into a spaceship.
Sometimes it’s making up stories about cloud shapes.
And sometimes... it’s welcoming a guinea pig into your home at a stage in life when you thought your routines were already set.

Long Long reminds me daily that it’s never too late to reimagine joy.
That “firsts” aren’t only for children.
And that the softest companions can sometimes teach us the loudest lessons.

So here’s to reimagination — in childhood, in adulthood, and in the quiet squeaks of unexpected beginnings. 🐹✨

As an Early Childhood Leader, I’ve spent years creating space for my team to pause, reconnect, and grow — not just as educators, but as whole people.

Now, I’m opening up these heart-led coaching workshops to anyone seeking purposeful growth — whether you’re in education or not.

✨ Workshop Highlights:

• Vision Board, Heart Board
  Find clarity and direction through guided journaling and creative reflection.

• The Inner Child Doll
  A gentle, hands-on journey to restore joy and energy when your heart feels tired.

• From Burnout to Brilliance
  Energising team-based games that renew purpose and connection.

• Colours of Me
  Discover your personality and express it through art jamming and colour play.

  
  

🗓️ Weekend sessions available for individuals and small groups

📍Singapore-based

💰 Rates:

🔹 Parent-Child Workshops:
• $60 per pair
• Early bird: $50

🔹 Adult Reflective Workshops:
• $60–$90 per pax
• Bundle: 2 workshops for $150

🔹 Preschool/Corporate Bookings:
• Half-day (3 hrs): $500–$650
• Full-day: $900–$1200
(Includes all materials and facilitation)

Special price for non-profit organisations. These workshops have touched the lives of many educators — and I hope they’ll uplift you too.

🎤 Looking for a speaker, host, or emcee?
I'm also available to speak, host, and facilitate at team events, retreats, or conferences.

Let’s create something meaningful together. 💛

📩 DM me to learn more or collaborate.

Verse 1

我离开时所拥有的不多，

惟有祢的爱作依靠。

三个小小的他们， 愿你亲自看顾。

没有蓝图，没有剧本，

只有颤抖的双手。

我站在祢所命定的线上，

疲惫落泪。

Lalalala

Verse 2

他们问我，力量从哪而来？

不是掌声，也不是喝采。

不再小小的他们， 你依然在看顾。

从混乱中被祢更新， 在破碎中重新微笑。

我站在祢所命定的线上，

带着信心前行。

Chorus

Crowned with Courage，

不在顺境或荣耀中，

双膝祷告无数次，脚下的鞋已走破。

是祢恩典托住我，让我能勇敢前行。

每一个“不可能”，祢都亲自开路，

即使在枯萎之地，生命依然会苏醒。

Bridge

我的故事不完美，却是美丽的旅程，

如今我站立——抬头仰望新天地。

Chorus (Repeat)

Crowned with Courage，

不在顺境或荣耀中，

双膝祷告无数次，脚下的鞋已走破。

是祢恩典托住我，让我能勇敢前行。

每一个“不可能”，祢都亲自开路。

Ending

平静安稳，戴着冠冕勇敢前行。。。

[Verse 1]

I walked away with little but love

Three little hearts and a sky above

No map, no plan, just trembling hands

But I stood where life had drawn the line

I gave my all, I gave up me

Built a home on memory

With lullabies and whispered hope

I stitched the cracks I couldn’t show

[Chorus]

And I’m crowned with courage, not with ease

Worn out shoes and scraped-up knees

But I’ve learned to rise, not just survive

To hold my heart and still be kind

I wear my story in every thread

Of dolls I’ve made and tears I’ve shed

For every “no,” I found a “how”

I’m softer, braver now

[Verse 2]

They ask me where my strength began

It wasn’t in applause or plans

It came in mess, in broken days

In finding light in ordinary grace

From preschool floors to dinner plates

From lesson plans to twist of fate

I found the child I left behind

And held her hand back into life

[Chorus]

I’m crowned with courage, stitched by grace

By laughter lines and paper tape

By falling down and showing up

And calling every scar enough

These dolls I make are pieces too

Of every start I walked back through

They carry stories just like mine

Of holding on — and choosing shine

[Bridge]

This isn’t perfect

It’s something real

A love that dares to fully feel

No gold, no throne

Just thread and bone

And a heart that finally came back home

I’m crowned with courage, crowned by choice

By every time I found my voice

By every time I dared to stay

And make the pain a softer place

So here I stand — not done, but whole

A mother, maker, healing soul

If you need hope, come sit awhile

You’ll find it in the gentlest smile