I don’t claim to fully understand the power of prayer; I feel as if I’m still barely scratching the surface of this miraculous connection. But I’ve experienced too many startlingly personal moments within those sacred conversations for me to stay quiet.

Most of our life takes place in the middle. It’s not just about our fragile new beginning or our final breaths at the end—what did we do with everything in between? 

With Christ as my gardener, He will help me grow. Slowly, just as I’m meant to. This is the work that He loves—even if it takes forever.

Well, it’s Thursday night, and here I am, running late with my newsletter again. But you know what? I actually don’t think it’s late. I think it’s exactly on time, and here’s why.

Jesus Christ met me in the middle of my messy week, and I know that He will always, always meet you in yours.

I feel so inadequate.

The words replayed in my mind as the water from the shower sprayed across my back, hot and relieving after another long day.

Last week, I started praying over my story.

Some weeks are hard and some are easier than others. All we can do is keep showing up. Keep putting on our shoes. Keep following through.

This is a new chapter in my writing journey. And I’m only on page one.

I don’t know who needed these words today. Maybe it was just me. But these kinds of words are always worth sharing. So read them and believe. And pass them on to someone else who needs them too. Be an answer to someone’s prayer today. 

At the beginning of 2024, I asked God what He wanted for me this year. The answer came quickly. I want this to be your year of letting go.

So often I find myself arguing with God’s timing—sometimes unconsciously, sometimes quite consciously—asking for Him to speed things up or to try out my version of the plan instead.

So here’s to throwing open the doors to our guest bedroom closets. To letting God into every closed-off, forgotten corner of our hearts. To letting the Master Builder do His job. 

Lately, I’ve been practicing staying more present in my body (which, if I’m honest, is pretty difficult for me to do). I’ve spent most of my life trapped in my head, overthinking, overanalyzing, and overcorrecting. And well, let’s just say, I’m over it. 

I think God uses those seasons of quiet to plant something new inside us. He uses the stillness to add fresh soil, to toss in carefully hand-selected seeds.

Line upon line, this book will be written. It may be messy and incomplete, but it will be something. And it will be mine. 

January doesn’t own every opportunity for growth. Resolutions aren’t tied to a single season. We can change any time we want to.

Confession: I’ve always dreaded the days between Christmas and New Year's. To me, it feels like such a strange space to hang out in, an uncomfortable limbo where the exciting thing has already happened, and now we’re all just lying around, covered in candy wrappers, waiting for the next big thing. 

Sometimes God works in mysterious ways, but other times He’s quite obvious. He’s the artist splashing colors across the sky, reminding us to look at what He’s capable of. He’s the Father who sent His Son—the bringer of light and the maker of every sunset—to walk this path with each of us individually.

It’s on those long, slow days when nothing gets done, those days when I am simply existing that this love is put to the test. That’s when I have to dig deep and look for the truth: do I love myself or do I just have a crush on my productivity?