Some stories aren’t written in words—they’re etched in symbols, passed down through generations. My family coat of arms is one of those stories.

At first glance, it’s just a shield, a helmet, a few colors and creatures. But when I look closer, I see legacy. I see strength. I see the quiet resilience of those who came before me.

The arm holding a sword reminds me that courage isn’t optional—it’s inherited. The birds perched below speak of peace and vigilance, watching over what matters most. The crescents and star? They’re not just decoration. They’re reminders that even in darkness, light breaks through.

This isn’t just about ancestry—it’s about identity. My coat of arms tells me that I come from a line of fighters, protectors, believers. And while I may live in a different time, the values are timeless: honor, faith, perseverance.

I don’t wear this symbol to boast. I carry it to remember. To remember that I’m part of something bigger. To remember that God doesn’t just work in my life—He’s been working through my lineage all along.

So when I feel uncertain, I look at that shield. When I feel weak, I remember the sword. And when I feel alone, I remember the birds—watching, guarding, reminding me that I’m never truly alone.

This is my heritage. This is my armor. And with God’s validation and my family’s legacy behind me, I walk forward with confidence.