The book looks worn already. And I’ve had it just a few weeks. Pages dog-eared and stuck with post-its. Sentences penciled under, words I want to keep close and not forget.

It was my friend Judy, over coffee at Cafe Barrone, who offered the first encouragement.We sat outside, drinking lattes from porcelain mugs. We were talking about writing and story. About the hard stuff of parenting and marriage. Of being known and messing up. Of connection and isolation. Of future dreams and gratitude for the now.I was in the middle of writing a series on my blog called Voice: A Journey Toward Life in 31 Conversations. And Judy said it could be more than just a series on a blog.Here is how I described Voice to my readers on my old blog page two years ago:"I wonder if you’re a lot like me. I wonder if you’re busy, with a calendar that is filled. I wonder if you want to live a life more fully surrendered to God but are intimidated by what a life of prayer is supposed to look like—particularly, what it may look like to have regular conversations with God.Come participate in a back and forth conversation—a woman’s prayers and heart cries to God, and His responses back, as she listens and writes them down.In the midst of a culture of busyness and to-do lists and trying to prove oneself and get ahead, can a busy woman's regular conversations with God—her prayers and her listening to Him—be the key to claiming the life God has always intended for her to live?"A journey toward life. I still like how that sounds. And when my husband, Justin, a few months later, who had heard me talk about this blog series but never knew the title of it, comes into the bedroom where I sit, laptop in my lap, and tells me he was praying and says, "I feel like God impressed upon my heart something about you writing and some project called 'Voice.' What is that?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing.It felt too good to be true. Too beautiful. . . Read More and enter the giveaway! . . .

Oh, God, what do I even say?This week I wrote and recorded an audio lesson on Romans 8. I read the verses of Romans 8 over and over, asking the Holy Spirit to speak to my heart. I wanted to dig in deep to the promises Paul shares with us. I wanted to explore how the Holy Spirit, when we don’t even know how to pray, intercedes for us. And how Jesus, at the right hand of God, communicates to our Father each word our heart longs to say.We are being fought for, cared for, when our pain, our fear, our worries, make it difficult for us to lift our heads.We may long for God, but we sometimes don’t know how to pray to Him. We don’t know how to articulate what is truly going on in our heart, our life. Or, we may not even recognize what barriers might exist that make it difficult for us to connect with Him. Or, we don’t even believe He is here, listening.We need the Holy Spirit to give us words, translate our heart-needs to our Father. It is so beautiful that this is exactly what He does.But as much as I love this truth—even though it rocks me to my core that God loves us so much that He helps us in our need, I struggled to digest this. . . . Read more and learn about the free audio lesson I created for you on Romans 8 . . .

The dog let out a howl in his sleep this morning at 4 a.m.Low. Weird. Totally annoying. I awoke, startled, but fell back to sleep, dreaming that our oldest, who just started high school, was attending my university alma mater’s rival school across town. No, he can’t go to school there!We are living in a cozy space this fall, displaced from our home due to a house remodel. The kids are in three different schools for the first time. There is a lot of driving now, meetings with contractors, trying to not get overwhelmed by a book launch. Oh, and Justin and I are working on another writing project together, too.In the evenings, with our family crowded into a single room, we watch the Olympics, the TV blaring too late into the night. There have been a few nights, when I have had deadlines, that I have had to crawl into the bedroom closet, across from the bathroom, and write. Earbuds in my ears, cranking up music by Jonathan David Helser or Lauren Daigle.This album is on repeat when I write now.Crazy? Good? Too full, God? Can you help me keep my eyes on You? Read more . . .

I am breathing Eden. Let's declare this together, shall we?I think this is the best hashtag ever. (Okay, I admit: I am totally not impartial.)Throughout the summer, you've heard me share about the release, on October 4, of my new book Breathing Eden: Conversations With God On Light, Fresh Air, and New Things via Zeal Books. You know how I believe this book can help women, in their unique life situation, hear God's response to specific, real-life prayers.I want everyone who needs this book to know about it. And I would love your help.Join the Breathing Eden book launch team!As a member of the team you will get an advance review copy of the book (via mail to US residents), access to a private Facebook group with our team and much more. Read More and learn how to join! . . .

When she asked me if I would share the truth about myself, the story of my beginning, I knew I would have to start at the end.It was the end of me that started it all, the choice to let pride kill a life. Two decades later and forgiveness and grace is the truth I sing.Not death. Although that is part of the story too. Not shame. Although I carried that like an invisible shroud for years. Not silence. Although that is what prompted the belief in other lies I believed about myself too: you have no voice; you are not made to be loved; you are never enough.There is a beautiful book my friend Cara edited and released into the world a few weeks ago. It is called Soul Bare: Stories of Redemption--a book of 31 real-life stories by women who share the things they don't want to keep silent. Stories of the hard and the beautiful, the desperate and the good. Each story points to God, a testament to His presence in the midst of heartache, disappointment, pain.My story is in there. It is called Cold, Dark Ground. I talk about my story with my friends over at the beautiful Mudroom. And I am giving away three autographed copies of the book, Soul Bare, too.Read more and enter the giveaway . . .

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 . . .

I am so grateful for your emails, friends. The ones where you have shared that yes, you are depressed. Yes, marriage is a struggle. Yes, it is a battle to surrender and lay down the urge to have control.No, we are not alone here. I am so grateful for your vulnerability, your courage, your beautiful faith. You are such encouragement to me.It made me want to respond, create something for you--us--that we can use when we feel stuck and we aren't sure how to find the words to pray.So, I sat down last Thursday afternoon, while the kids were at camp and Justin was on an air plane, and created a book for you. It's called, Prayers for the Women of Breathing Eden. It is an accompaniment, a layer of understanding and participation, for the readers of Breathing Eden. 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! . . .