Bible Teacher. Author. Coach.
I help women who are burnt out on religion learn how to walk with Jesus in everyday life.
Scroll
God is good and kind, even when your circumstances say otherwise.
the books
recent articles
Featured
2021 was a gut-wrenching year for our family, but it didn’t start that way. On a late January evening, my husband and I went on a much-needed date, talking over tacos and margaritas. I remember thinking that my period was late, and when we got home from our date, I took a pregnancy test “just to check.” We had been trying for our second baby, and I wanted so badly to be pregnant.
I took the test, and to my utter delight, it was positive. My husband was incredulous, as it had taken nearly two years to conceive my son. We were completely thrilled and grateful that it only took a few months for this little girl to make her home in my womb. We called our daughter, who was 17 at the time, into the room, and she was overjoyed—she had been praying for a little sister.
I live in Georgia, where the summer heat is real and the humidity is plentiful. On any given day, I can find myself grinning with gratitude at the sunny skies or cursing them with frustration when the heat just won’t relent. We have all been home much more than normal, and our routines are just different (or nonexistent). It’s easy to make time for the Word when the circumstances of life are simple. But when things are complicated and there are seemingly one too many curveballs thrown at you, the discipline of opening God’s Word can seem like just one more thing to do instead of a delight.
At its best, summer can bring with it a carefree sense of wonder. At its worst, it can feel long and unorganized. After a week of brutal July heat, I was relieved to see that the weather forecast held rain—and lots of it. Rain refreshes and replenishes what has been dried up by drought. Our time in the Word can feel stale when we approach it with a sense of duty or obligation. But when we see the Word for what it truly is—the God-breathed and inspired message of hope and deliverance for our souls—we are changed and refreshed.
“You are the salt of the earth, but if salt has lost its taste, how shall its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything except to be thrown out and trampled under people’s feet” (Matt. 5:13).
One of my favorite snacks is chips and guacamole. Sometimes in the afternoon, I slice an avocado, mash it with a fork (but not too much, because I like my guac chunky!), add a bit of lime and cilantro, and eat to my heart’s content. After living in Mexico for two years, I am a little snobby about my guacamole. One of the biggest things that can make or break guacamole is the salt content. If there isn’t enough salt, the flavors don’t reach their full potential, and you’re left with a bland, mushy dip, which isn’t appetizing to anyone.
Last year, my husband and I felt a tug on our hearts from God. This tug was a call to become foster parents. You see, we had been “trying” for several months to start our family and weren’t having any success. Foster care had been on our hearts, but it was always something that loomed in the distance. We would become foster parents after we had “our own” kids. We would become foster parents once our lives calmed down. But all of a sudden, God said to stop waiting and start moving.
“If I have to live in a house I don’t like because it makes me more like Christ, I’m ok with that.” An older, much wiser friend of mine told me this after her dream house suffered a fire that rendered the home uninhabitable. The words stuck with me and are something I have pondered over the last several months.
In our culture, more is better, and we are constantly buying things we don’t need to impress people we may or may not like. It’s exhausting, isn’t it?
When we first moved into our home, we were grateful to have found a place to live in the craziness of the housing market in 2021. I gave thanks for our incredible backyard and our sweet cul-de-sac. But over time, I began to loathe our kitchen. Much to my disgust, the previous owners painted wood cabinets brown, which I will never understand.