Ailana’s Journal—2026-06-07, Part 2 (and Island Kids) (Patreon)

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STORE RUN by Ailana Geven Keller

Everyone spontaneously decided to meet in the office for lunch. As we do, we’re all bringing something. As we do, everyone is bringing something.

Jason and I decided to bring salad fixings, so we’re just a few blocks away—actually a couple of doors from Dad’s house—at Blue Marlin Supermarket. It’s a full grocery store, and a lot closer than crossing the causeway to Port Isabel.

It was a good week, and the one to come is looking good, too. The big unknown is on Friday, when we have the hearing about Emily’s custody. I’ll say more about that as the date gets closer.

The lawyers Josh hired think there’s little doubt Emily will be allowed to stay. I’m optimistic.

We didn’t change much about going to church today. Emily, Kel, Josh, and Geoni went to Island Baptist like last week—it’s the church that hosts the Youth Group meeting where Emily and Kel’s new friends go. Clay and Sasha went with them today. The rest of us went to Chapel by the Sea as usual.

We haven’t decided what things will look like going forward. I don’t know…

So many things to think about!

But right now, I need to be thinking about a salad, so I’ll close out.

I’ll be back tonight, so see you then.

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DON’T BLOW IT by Emily Amos

After church, there was, like, a big potluck lunch in the office. I told Pops it should be called the condo party room instead of the office. He low-key agreed.

After lunch, Kel asked if I wanted to go walking. We went south to Beach Access 6 this time. We talked about Youth Group on the way there.

When we got there, Kel got a Snap from Mateo asking if he wanted to come over Monday and hang out. Mateo lives one street north of Pops, so it’s an easy walk.

“I like it here,” Kel said to me.

“Me too. We’re really blessed, you know.”

He let the silence hang a second, then said, “I got put into foster care when I was six. It always felt like a cardboard family, you know?”

“I don’t know when I went in the first time,” I said. “My mother got me out in time for first grade, but that didn’t last long. Drugs…and her business. Then I went back until the fall before ninth grade, and you know the rest.”

A family passed by us, so we stopped talking. When they were gone, Kel spoke again.

“We can’t mess this up. If the court lets you stay here, it will be awesome.”

“Why wouldn’t they? I’m not going to mess it up if I can help it.”

Kel nodded. “Same… We just need to make sure they can trust us. I learned that the more adults trust you, the more they’ll relax, and everything’s better.”

“Any tips?” I said.

“They gave us easy rules. We blew it yesterday…forgetting to just check in…so stupid! I’m going to set an alarm from now on. We just need to make it easy for them not to worry.”

I nodded. “I think they really care. Like they want us to be happy and safe. Nobody’s asking us to be perfect.”

“Yeah… Just to be honest, respectful, reachable, and not sneak around.”

I smiled, and Kel came across the walkway. We looked back toward Whiting Street.

“Do what we’re supposed to do. Do what we say we’re going to do. Tell the truth.”

I liked that. “Make it easy for them to relax.”

He nodded. “Yeah… we can’t blow this. The more they relax, the easier everything will be.”

MEETING JASMINE by Sofia Torres

I asked for forgiveness. She offered friendship—and bought me lunch.

GOOD NIGHT by Ailana Geven Keller

Jason and I are north of town just walking and being together. Call it a little respite from the normal daily routine.

We’re near Cameron County Beach, where we parked. We’ve walked a little, slowly northward—because east is the Gulf and west is Laguna Madre, both close enough that you could easily measure the distance in steps.

This feels very right. And…very needed.

I’ll share more about this in an Afterthoughts post on Patreon. Right now, I want to share how this gift…this quiet moment alone came to be.

About three hours ago, Sasha banged on the door—her enthusiasm was a giveaway that she was up to something.

“What’s up, newlyweds?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Emily wants to know if it’s okay to take her phone on the boat.”

“When?” I asked.

“You’re not invited. You should go somewhere and be alone.”

Eventually, she revealed the plan. Clay wanted to “borrow” Kel, Emily, and their friends for a ride on Imagine What. At church, they had met Dan Mercer—Jenna’s father and the Coast Guard chief—and enlisted him as backup teen wrangler.

Sasha went into project-manager mode, called all the other parents, swapped phone numbers, and gave them the boat registration number. Call it “in for a penny, in for a pound”…

You two go do something quiet and away from the Whiting Street chaos,” she said at last. “Don’t come back until after sunset.”

So here we are, just walking and being. I think after the week we had, we needed this.

And with that thought, I’ll wrap up this post and say a preliminary goodbye.

May you have friends who see your needs and take steps to meet them even before you realize you have them.

Good night.

AFTERTHOUGHTS: ENOUGH by Ailana Geven Keller (Patreon Exclusive)

The dunes were good for us.

Jason and I walked until we stopped talking about where we were going. Then we stood still for a while with the Gulf on one side, Laguna Madre on the other, and the wind doing what wind does on the north end of the island. It was not silent because the beach is never silent. There was wind and surf and birds and the little sounds of sand moving under our feet.

But it was quiet inside me, at least for a few minutes.

I needed that more than I knew.

This week was a lot. Emily showed up, and that sentence is so small compared to what it means. She showed up with a backpack, a plan, a story, and a life that had been hurt in ways I still do not fully know how to process. She showed up, and everything changed.

Not in a bad way.

I need to say that first because I mean it. I am glad she is here. I am so glad she is here. I would rather lose sleep and peace and routine every day than have her still out there with our mother. But it was still hard.

It was hard in the normal ways. Work still existed. Writing still existed. Modeling still existed. Messages still came in. Posts still needed to be made. People still needed answers. Laundry still needed doing. Food still needed buying. Life did not pause and say, “Ailana, you have had a complicated family emergency, so everything else may wait politely until you are rested.”

Life just kept coming, and I met the demands of each day.

Mostly.

I think.

That is where my mind keeps getting stuck. I did the things. I answered the questions. I helped make decisions. I listened when Emily needed to talk. I tried not to crowd her when she needed space. I tried to be present for Jason. I tried to keep creating. I tried to keep being normal enough that the people around me would feel normal, too.

But I do not know if I did any of it well enough. I do not know if I was patient enough. I do not know if I was steady enough. I do not know if I was a good enough wife this week.

Jason says yes.

He says he knew who he married. He says he did not marry me because he thought life would be quiet. He says Emily being here does not take anything away from us. He says we are still us.

I believe him. I also worry.

This was supposed to be our first real week of married life. Not the wedding. Not the honeymoon. Not the pictures or the boat or the sweet beginning part that everyone sees. This was supposed to be the week where we started learning the ordinary shape of being husband and wife.

Morning coffee. Shared chores. Dinner without a guest list. Slow evenings. Figuring out the little rhythms.

Instead, so much of that first week was divided. Emily needed help. Emily needed safety. Emily needed people to make calls and ask questions and think ahead. Emily needed me. I wanted to be there, and I still want to be there.

But there is a small, selfish part of me that whispers that this is not fair.

I hate that part. I hate admitting it is there because it feels ugly to look at Emily’s life and then think about fairness for myself.

What happened to Emily was not fair. What our mother did was not fair. What our mother was willing to do next was horrible. Criminal, to be exact.

Emily should have had a childhood. She should have had safety. She should have had a mother who saw her as a daughter, not as a problem or a tool or a way to get something or make money.

I mourn that in a way I did not expect. I knew our mother was broken. I blocked thoughts of her from my mind as much as possible.

I knew she could be cruel. I knew what it felt like to be loved only when love was useful to her.

But Emily’s story still feels like a fresh wound. Maybe because she is still sixteen. Maybe because she is my sister. Maybe because I look at her and see a girl trying so hard to be brave that she does not always know when she is allowed to be tired.

I want to help her any way I can.

I mean that with my whole heart. And still, I was not expecting this.

I was not expecting her to arrive in the middle of the beginning. I was not expecting to feel pulled between my sister and my husband in the first week of marriage. I was not expecting to feel guilty because I wanted one quiet evening with Jason.

But tonight, Sasha saw it before I did. She saw that Jason and I needed to step away. She saw that the house was full of love and noise and planning and teenagers and questions and hope, and she saw that we needed one pocket of stillness.

So she made one.

That is what the walk in the dunes was. A pocket of stillness. Jason held me, and for a while I did not have to solve anything. I did not have to be strong. I did not have to know what Friday will bring. I did not have to know how to be enough for Emily. I did not have to know how to be enough for Jason.

I just had to be there.

And I was.

I wish I could end this by saying the quiet fixed everything. It did not.

I am still worried. I am still resolved to do my best. I am still almost certain my best will come up short somewhere. Someone will need more patience than I have. Someone will need a wiser answer than the one I give. Someone will need comfort when I am tired. Someone will need space when I accidentally crowd them. Someone will need me to understand something I have not learned yet.

That is the part that scares me.

Not that I will quit. I am not quitting. I am not giving up on Emily. I am not giving up on Jason. I am not giving up on this strange, beautiful, crowded, unexpected life God has placed in front of me.

I am just afraid people will be disappointed when they find out I am not as strong as they think I am.

But maybe that is part of the lesson. Maybe enough is not the same thing as perfect. Maybe enough is showing up again tomorrow. Maybe enough is saying, “I am sorry,” when you miss something.

Maybe enough is letting your husband hold you in the dunes because you are tired. Maybe enough is loving your sister even when the timing is hard. Maybe enough is admitting the hard parts without letting them become the whole story.

Tonight, my best was not perfect. It may not be perfect tomorrow either. But maybe it is enough to keep going. Enough to keep trying.

Enough to love the people in front of me a little better than I did yesterday.

And maybe, sometimes, that really is enough.

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