It is cold the morning we climb. Strap snowshoes onto our boots. Head out while still dark. House quiet. Kids asleep.The break has been needed. Away from home. The pace of running too fast, too long. I look up here. White aspens, bare fingers stretch to the most pale blue sky.

"You are not the forgotten one."I hear it--a statement, simple enough, from a Father who pursues. He wants this truth to sink in deep this time. He wants me to believe it: Achievement does not make any person more worthy of love."You are not the forgotten one. You are the chosen one."Oh, Father. Take this heart that doubts your truth. Kill it in me. Give me a new heart. Help me deny the temptations of this world.Yes, something in us has to die to make room for God's truth.

It was days after the launch of Breathing Eden, when my soul was weary, that I began listening to God's whispers.The house dark, a blanket pulled across my shoulders, I sat on the floor, reading Scripture, asking Him what it is He thinks about Advent, this season of both awaiting the birth of Christ and celebrating Christ who has already come.I wondered what God might say if we asked Him how we should celebrate, how we should prepare our hearts, how we can be present with Jesus in this busy season? So I asked Him, and I waited for answers. And like I did with Loop, I wrote it down.Loop AdventAnd these four letters are Loop Advent, four beautiful devotionals, one to read during each of the four weeks of Advent. And there are four unique 8 x 10 art prints inspired by His words--to print out on watercolor paper or card stock, too.I love what the words in Loop Advent say . . . Read More . . .

I know you feel it. Fear about the future. Anxiety about the present. Worry about the unknown.I know it feels like the boat is rocking. Storm blowing hard. Waves pushing fast.You wonder, “How can I move forward, when I can’t see?” You ask, “How do I go back, when I feel alone?”You call out to God, asking for His help, “Where are You? Do You care? Do You see me? How will You help me not drown?”It feels impossible to stop the cycle of fear, once it begins.It pulls us under, an insidious tug on our hearts. We can no longer see clearly, or even hear the truth of God.Do you know the secret to not sinking, not drowning? Do you know what to do when life is hard and we don’t know how to lift our heads?Read More . . .

We were on a walk when she told me.How, in prior years, the darkness blanketed her. How, for months at a time, she was convinced it was swallowing her whole. My stoic, wise, and strong friend spent more than a year feeling trapped, stuck. One thing was certain to her. She could find no way out.The self she used to know was distant—far from her now. The darkness was too thick, too heavy. She could not explain to her family, her friends, what she was thinking, feeling. She was sinking now, surely drowning in the heaviness of it all.“Depression,” is how the counselor described it when she eventually sought help. But yet how can a word, a diagnosis, explain the dark covering of her mind, the despair of her heart?Are you depressed, dear one? Read More . . .

There are stories that have yet to be told, yet to be whispered, even in the dark when we believe no one could possibly hear. But we wonder yet if these words, hidden in secret places, could be gathered up. We wonder if there is a place for them. For the question is about more than words. It's about the claiming of our stories, often the ones most difficult to speak out loud.I know.It's hard to share. There is fear of rejection; we're convinced that the person to whom we share will condemn us. There is shame, the cruel and twisted feelings of humiliation at having sinned. We want to keep the story secret. It's a story too painful to tell. There is disbelief that sharing the story--even a story of beauty, or joy--will help. We think it surely can't bring about any healing--for the person listening, or for us.So we struggle, even, to open up our hearts to God.And sometimes we don't even know what the prayer is, until it is unearthed, the Spirit searching our heart and revealing to us the hidden, fragile places that need to be coaxed into the light.I know.It can feel impossible to discern, sometimes, how to pray. It can feel impossible that the beginning of prayer--sharing our heart with God--can even do any good. I know this from my own experience, and from leading women's groups for years. And I've been wondering why we feel this way.And I've also been wondering what it might be like to walk like Eve did, with God.What would it be like for us right now, in our particular life situation, to hear God's whispers? Read More and learn all about my new book! . . .

You aren't swimming underwater now, waves tossing you so you aren't sure which way is down, or up. But I know this isn't how you feel. You are convinced you are sinking, that she is smarter, that you are slower. That she's prettier, that you're not so special.Come to think of it, you aren't sure what is worthwhile anymore.That job. This home. This struggle to make ends meet.You scream the prayers in the night. Father, where are you, in the middle of the mess? Do you hear my cries? Do you recognize me, even here, where it is surely only dark? Can your light shine on me? I can't find you.I don't even believe I know where to look.You say it again: Why do your words, God, feel hollow, just letters on a page? How is your voice one I can hear? Would you even speak to me? Would you even want to? How can I believe this love you have for this world is love that applies to me? Read More . . .

Across this screen, we are not so far away from one another. Hundreds of miles can separate us, making it difficult to wrap our arms around each other in person. But uniting of hearts isn't something we're in the business of doing on our own. So miles don't matter, really.I have spent this day unpacking duffels and going laundry--and tossing a lacrosse ball back and forth at the park. Not important things, maybe. But this is: I need to tell you how I believe we see and hear God when we claim what is ours to do, with Him. I have friends who crave to hear God's voice but doubt He speaks to them, only because they think they haven't heard it yet. They believe God speaks to other people, sure, but not to them.I don't believe this.Just because we may not have recognized God's voice doesn't mean He hasn't spoken to us.We have all been given different gifts and personalities, and we are not going to hear the Father the way another person does. But I believe that the God who created each one of us is a communicator, a connector, a relationship-builder. He made us, and He likes us. He loves to hang out and be with us. He does not love from afar. Read More . . .