There are flakes falling softly outside.
The first snow of the season. It will be a dusting at most.

Ever notice how quiet everything is in snow? The world muffles the cacophony and you’re immersed in silence and calm. There is a scientific reason for it of course. Because snow is porous (more space between the snowflakes when accumulating together), it muffles the sound. The science is lovely and the calm is comforting.

Taken today, personal photo, backyard.

I am thankful for how my back sliding door is in a great position so when I pull back the curtains, I have a peaceful view of the trees, falling precipitation and yard.

Right now, I have music on, decaf coffee, a nervous dog beside me and comfy clothes. I took a half day but it doesn’t feel like it. The time passed quickly and I wanted to use the time wisely. To read, to write, to journal. This isn’t even going to be a worthy post, I can tell. I just wanted to do something. Advance this. For myself.  Read More

It’s a rainy Thursday.
We have had days of significant rainfall. Windy, thunderstorms, hail. It’s the recipe for a cozy day indoors.

Most often we don’t get to participate in the relaxation instinct. We have jobs to go to, chores to finish, things to do. Rest is just that elusive thing only a fraction of people get to do, right? Read More

I took a “mental health” day today.

No work. No obligations.
There were things I needed to get done (laundry, grocery shopping, laundry, changing my name over to my married name, laundry) but I tried not to make any promises I couldn’t keep and I tried to allow myself the introvert time in which I could soak.

Those that know me may not find it easy to believe that I’ve grown deep into introvert roots. I cultivate a healthy balance now. Read More

Have you ever prepared for a move or begun Spring Cleaning and come across something you’d almost forgotten existed? You brush off the dust and for a split second may even forget how to use it — like an old instrument (I’m looking at you, Elementary School recorder).

That kind of feeling is what I’m experiencing. Read More

I know.

It’s been….a long while. I’m honestly going to be incredibly surprised if there is even a “you” reading this. I may have lost the small pairs of eyes I did have, due to this belabored absence.

So much has occurred. Beautiful things. Excruciating things. Life.
We all experience it.

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There is cognitive dissonance which exists when a writer ceases to write. For any period of time, not participating in one’s passions can cause a myriad of reactions, one of which is the rationalization that “I don’t have anything worth saying”.
It devalues that which it once held as highest esteem – most cathartic and noble of efforts. It is a subversion of reality.

It’s hokum…

…and I do it all the time. Read More

Soon, I’ll fly to a state in which I’ve never been. Then I’ll be a passenger in a car to another state I’ve never been.

I’ll be one in only 40 women in a secluded spot, staying in what used to be a convet. A holy space that will be the same for us. 

I’ll get to hug a woman I admire whom I, in blessing, finally met face-to-face over a year and a half ago. 

I’ll get to finally embrace a kindred spirit for the first time, where we’ve been connected across the time zones for years now. Writing can bring those who share passions, so very close. 

Refine, the retreat, comes in two weeks. 

My insides stir in anticipation for the quiet, the connection, the wisdom seeking and worship pouring. I crave these times. Set aside for journaling, fellowship mixed with introvert hours – perfect for growth and recuperation. 
Kris has hosted these days before and this will be my first time joining. I love the vision for keeping it small, intimate, low-key and filled with Spirit. My heart longs for that environment. 

He awakens me in such spaces. Though His pursuit is unceasing – in the every day of life as well as the carved out weekends. 

I am not truly myself when in dry seasons of writing. 

I am the only one to blame for those spells. Yet He graciously gives me times to return. And I sit in thankfulness. 

So soon I go. We gather. He moves. 


*On October 7th,  I had the abundant honor of guest posting at author Kris Camealy’s blog for the release of her then upcoming book Come Lord Jesus: The Weight of Waiting. I wrote the piece which appeared on her site. I wanted to post it here as well, for though the book as released and Advent has passed, these pages of hers and her Father’s stay with a person. I don’t think one has to wait until a hard point on the calendar to come. To sit. To be silent and wait for His glory. For His coming. So I post on my site now, for the reminder of how the book spoke to me then. How I believe it will speak to you. Not just in November through Christmas day, but all year. Even today. Even this moment. Buy the book, I sincerely suggest. 


There is an added excitement when you know something is coming.

Surprises are great (I, personally, appreciate them), but there is eagerness, hope, anticipation when you know something good is ahead.

Do you remember being a kid and shifting limbs all the hours leading up to your birthday party, or leaving for a family vacation, or arguably quite the biggest of all – waiting for the morning after Santa had come?
The not-knowing what you would open mixed with the knowing the day would actually happen left the wonder bursting through our eyes for days (if not weeks).


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There are dry seasons to everything.
Drought rather than rain.
Stagnation rather than growth.
Silence rather than flourish of writing/communicating.
Complacency where there used to be drive, striving, reaching.

Everyone goes through these at various and repetitive points in life. I have not met one who is immune.

I think there’s a solidarity, no matter the culture, race, gender, education of a person – that we can all understand that experience. The still. The calm before the impending something.


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I kept all of my literary books from College.
If it was an English class, or my contemporary theater class, or the one time I took a class on Joseph Conrad without really knowing what I was getting into…
No matter the topic, those books stayed with me, and have made every move thereafter.

Call it what you will; it honestly boils down to my sheer inability to part with the written word. Because I believe it has far more to teach me than what I extract the couple of times I open its binding. From all experience, I can come back to a book I’ve either opened a handful or hundreds of times before – and it will show me something new. It will evoke a feeling previously unnoticed. It will teach me all over again. Read More

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