“You are stronger than you know.”She hears the words and wants to throw them back in his face. She wants to yell, spit, run.“What do you know?” she thinks. “How can you tell me I am strong when I struggle to maintain a job, or look put together, or be the mother my kids need me to be?“She can hardly believe the response, “What defines ‘success,’ my love?”“I do. I define success. My success” she tells him. And then she runs. She doesn’t want to hear him anymore.So she runs far away, as far away as she can. Deep into the place where she’s convinced she can’t be seen. The place that is deeper and further away than any physical location on a map. It is the place in her heart, deep inside her, where she tucks herself away.“No one. Not one person can find me here,” she insists. “Not unless I want to be found.” Read More . . .

I am in the tension. I miss my home.The smell of a burning candle. The creak of floorboards under bare feet. The windows opened wide in the morning. The bluejay in the primroses outside the kitchen.The kitchen itself is torn up, the first place I would head to each morning. Tiptoeing to open the shutters, letting out the dog, waiting for the light to flood in while the house still sleeps.My soup pot is tucked away in storage. My baking sheets in boxes with my spices and mixing spoons. I miss cooking. I miss baking. I miss the familiarity of simple things: walking our dog around our neighborhood, going across the street to get the mail each day, visiting Berta, my ninety-two-year-old neighbor, playing music through the speakers while I write and then make dinner, leaning on the counter while my kids eat a snack and tell me about their day. Read More . . .

“I am unlovable.”It’s the whisper that feels true, more true than anything else: How can I be loved, right now, like this? How can I be considered "beloved"?Meet Aliza.Aliza is 25 years old. Works as a barista. Struggles to believe she has what it takes to make it in a world pushing achievement, salary, perfection. Cutting is her response. Digging into her skin—with anything she can find—the answer to her pain. How can she not try to do something to wake herself up, or do better, or at least inflict self-punishment—for her failing to not deserve love?God has something to say to her. Read More . . .

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 am lost,” is what she says. But she is stronger than she knows.She is beautiful but doesn’t believe it yet. Rather, she is convinced of a lie: there is no hope for her; she can never be found.Who would look for her? Who would come for the daughter who flounders, doubting her role, her purpose? How can she find her way?Who will hear the questions she whispers in the night?I am restless, God. How do I get more of You?Where are You when it is eight o’clock and my patience is gone and I’m wondering how to keep loving people while feeling completely spent?How do I pray to You when I don’t know the words?When did that lie come in, God—the lie that I’m not enough?These are the questions of the women of Breathing Eden. Do you ask these questions, too? 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 . . .

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 . . .