I feel so lucky to share words with you every week; it is a privilege and gift. Today I’m just thankful that God has brought us together. It’s a little miracle if you sit and think about it. Out of all the billions of people on this planet, you and I get to walk together. 

This song has become a kind of anthem for me this year, a much-needed reminder that I’m experiencing a season of transition, a season of growth and change and rebuilding.

But my Father in Heaven wasn’t done parenting me. I felt His Spirit nudge me to say something else. This was an opportunity for me to not only demonstrate truth for my daughter but also for myself—and God didn’t want me to miss it. 

At first glance, it seemed as if my prayers about writing this book had fallen on deaf ears. But as I move in closer and look again, I not only see a God who’s been listening this whole time, but a God who invited me to His table and actively sat with me, preparing me for more words to come.

I’ve been feeling that same achy feeling lately. A new kind of growing pain that keeps me up at night.

Isn’t this the ultimate paradox? By giving up our burdens and letting go of our heavy things, we become stronger in Christ. Our God is asking us to engage in a different kind of strength training. He’s asking us to surrender and discover His rest.

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.