The sea has always called me. I was born and raised in sunny San Diego. As a girl, my mom took me to play on the beach at Coronado Island where my dad was stationed as an elite Navy diver. Sand buckets and sunscreen, eating sandwiches on the shore - the beach was my happy place, a place where I felt safe, free, and close to my dad while he was working.

In my teen years, we lived in Northern California, trading the warm water and white sandy beaches of Southern California for the dark cold water and black sands. While there was a sharp contrast between the areas, the California coast was still my grounding, bringing me joy, comfort, and a feeling of home.

I became a wife and mother at 21, and thus began my journey of breathing the sea into my children. Over the course of 17 years and four children later, many of our Friday evenings were spent wet and sandy, running and splashing as the sun set in front of us. Summers were spent at beach houses on the sand, winters camping on Coronado Island.

Life was busy and full. The ebb and flow of life brought long days and short years. In 2020, when life was changing for everyone, mine changed in a way I never dreamed of, as I learned I would be a single mom of four. As my mind dulled and my body numbed, I could think of nothing but finding refuge at the sea.

I fled to the coast and stood in front of a violent sea, which still seemed calmer than the way I felt. The wind whipped my hair and my salty tears bled into my mouth. I remember wishing the sea would swallow me as my pain crippled me to my knees. I sat on the sand for hours, shivering, long after the sun had gone and the moon had come. The sound of the ocean soothed the sound of my thoughts. My heart rate slowed as my breath matched the flow of the waves. The feeling of the cool sand in my hands. My prayer that day was repetitive: “God, help me be strong enough for my children.” I prayed this prayer each day for months. Some days I stayed in bed and dreamed of the happier days of my life. And some days, I mirrored my mom, packed up my kids, and went to the water, looking for healing, refuge, laughter, and light.

In the summer of 2022, while visiting Moonlight Beach with the kids, I began praying, asking the Lord how to give my kids a better life. That's when two words came to me, “salt and light,” along with a vision to start a candle company.

Sôlt was born shortly thereafter, and it gave me something I hadn’t expected. It gave me hope back in my life. It gave me excitement and passion I didn’t see coming. It gave me the ambition to dare to dream and plan again. My mind was less clouded by my past and more occupied with thoughts of the future.

The betterment I had prayed for was given to me in hope, which was then given to my children by having their mom be healing and whole. I may never be the girl I remember myself to be, but I’ll be the woman who was knocked down so hard it took her years to stand back up. That same woman is now able to stand strong on her own two feet. I’m able to share my story of losing hope and finding it in a simple candle company that God led me to. It brought me to research the words “salt and light” and apply those lessons to my life, and it’s helped me let go of the old and look to the new.

And through it all I hope you find some of the happiness and joy that I’ve found in Sôlt. I hope the warm light and soft scents help create happy memories with you and yours. Sôlt is my passion and I’m so happy I’ve had the opportunity to share it with you.

Philippians 4:13