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Years ago, I judged another mother for arriving late to preschool with her twins. I did not know the weight she was carrying. Then, one morning at my own child’s school door, God allowed me to experience the grace I had once struggled to give.

A conversation about control, surrender, and learning to trust the Author and the FINISHER of our faith...again. “God is writing the story. Stop stealing the pen.” I almost stopped in the middle of that winding road. I literally grabbed my chest with one hand, and struggled to hold the wheel with the other. It was truly momentous…breath-taking, and it left me speechless. “Father I’m guilty. I’ve done this! I’ve done this so many times…forgive me!” Those were my words, and alo

Come to the Table: An Invitation to the BRIDE Will you remain busy, or will you come commune with the One who invited you to take a seat? For many of us as mothers who cook every meal, prepare every snack, clear the table, and wipe away the crumbs in preparation to do it all again…life looks this way. Many meals require me to scoop, pour, serve, wipe away, clean…and repeat. ‘Please, Mom, I want more,’ and ‘Oops, I spilled my milk,’ are common announcements among my children a

I’m at the part of my journey where God is testing every single word I wrote. The waves around me are checking my heart to see if I actually believed the words I spoke…I sang…I silently wrote… I’m embarrassed to say that my most recent responses, and behavior indicated otherwise. I looked and sounded like the person that needed to actually go back and read the letters, hear the prayers and the WORD God spoke to me AGAIN. What My Heart is Saying... My journal echoed perfectly

Dear Momma, I see you quietly tiptoeing to the kitchen, eyeing the coffee maker and trying to quickly determine if you’ll be able to make a cup without making the only sound needed to wake your sleeping baby… I see you passing up the sweet invitation to join your baby for a nap that your body so desperately needs… I see you up late, choosing to write another page in the book you’ve been silently working to finish over the last few years… I see you choosing the wee hours of th

Just 4 months after the twins were born, I battled depression in ways no one truly knew except for my husband. Just two months into my last teaching job…the morning I arrived at the daycare with only three of my four children wearing shoes…I stood frozen in place between the decision to cry nonstop on the side of the road…or scream in my car with no idea if I could stop. That was the day that I made the decision to surrender to what I am doing at this very moment. Nothing was