About Laina

I wish for you to walk with courage and quiet strength, guided by light and anchored in truth.
May you discover joy woven into the ordinary rhythms of your days.

May these stories be a gentle fire along your path—beacons for those seeking safety, hope, and belonging.
May you feel seen here, held in the knowing that you are worthy of daily wonder and inspiration.

I wish for you to live in revelation, remembering the truth you carry:
you hold light.
You may be someone’s miracle.

And never forget—
you already are one.

My life has been shaped by adventure and struggle, by quiet perseverance and unexpected wonder. I grew up in Boise, Idaho, surrounded by music—playing violin in my high school orchestra and singing in an a cappella choir. I even took voice lessons, not out of ambition, but out of a friendly rivalry with my orchestra stand partner. If she dared to try something new, so did I. That small, human competition taught me something lasting: growth often begins when we stretch just beyond what feels comfortable.

When I was fourteen, my parents divorced. My father struggled, and home was not always a safe place. On the hardest days, my mother reminded me that I was protected—that I had a guardian angel, and that I could reach for light through prayer. Those words became a quiet anchor, carrying me through more than I could understand at the time.

Motherhood has always lived at the center of my dreams. When I look back now, my truest joy is found in the moments shared with my children, in serving the youth of my community, and in offering help where I can. Writing became my way of giving thanks—to those who shaped me, taught me, challenged me, and walked beside me when the path felt uncertain.

I am grateful for who I have become.
And I am grateful for you.
Truly, you are among the most remarkable people in this world.

Dreams have always been one of the ways stories found me. Through my mother—who taught me an intuitive way of listening to dreams—I learned that visions often arrive carrying meaning, not answers. That understanding led to my first book, Do Butterflies Dream?, a welcoming guide for those beginning to explore the language of dreams and symbols.

My mother’s influence reached far beyond the dream world. Our relationship—woven with tenderness, complexity, and transformation—eventually called me to write my memoir, The World of Us: My Life with Mom. That book became both tribute and healing: an honest reflection on a bond that shaped me, challenged me, and guided me toward becoming the woman—and writer—I am today.

Later still, a series of vivid dreams introduced me to a young man called to save his homeland. From those night-visions grew my fantasy trilogy, The Heroes of Wamara. Within its pages, a hero and his companions face an encroaching darkness that threatens all they love. Along the way, they learn an enduring truth—that choosing light often looks like kindness, integrity, courage, and the quiet decision to keep going.