The most despairing part of the the difficult seasons I have walked through is that goodness seems so very far away.

Often in my hastiness I forget that the in-between places are more necessary than I will ever fully know.

The practice of gratitude is learning to find the "puddles of sunshine," even in the midst of ongoing difficult circumstances.

My mind feeds me constant information. Some of it is true. Some of it is as far from the truth as a lie can land.

We can't play in the graveyard of the person we were before we met Jesus AND be blooming with the new life of Jesus living in us.

Where do you fit in to God's story of love?

With a dozen or more excuses stored in my back pocket, I had gotten good at avoiding the priorities in my life.

Once upon a time the street was lined with beautiful homes and manicured lawns. Now it is a place where dreams come to die.

Past experience tells me it's easier to allow things to stay the same, even as God provides provision for my broken heart to be mend.

God wants to guide me toward that place within myself that is young and wild and free. A place open to God's call.

Sometimes it is child-like faith that is needed to wait patiently for God to answer prayer.

I was no stranger to grief in my life. Profound loss litters my past, and I have learned to wade through those waters with my eyes on Jesus.

It’s much easier to speak up and reveal the vulnerable stuff in our hearts when we have the attention of someone who is listening.

There are moments in my life when I have felt ill-equipped for my circumstances. Yet God always shows up to guide and support me.

Boundaries are just as necessary in human relationships. My friends and family thrive by knowing who I am and what I stand for.

Sleep alluded me that night as I stared into the darkness, putting myself on trial in the courtroom of my anxious thoughts.

Now I find myself left with an aching realization. The option of spending time with my brother has now been removed.

It was much needed after a season of distancing myself from others and trying to walk alone.

It felt like joy had been eluding me. Like joy was a scavenger hunt ,and I couldn’t figure out the clues

Today marks the one-month anniversary of the unexpected passing of my brother, Joe. He was nine days past his forty-second birthday. The Lord called him home sometime during the middle of the night on a seemingly ordinary Saturday. Death almost always feels like a thief, especially when it steals the young or strikes without warning. It is traumatic for those left in its wake, and it has felt like a different level of grief to navigate. In the days following my brother's deat