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There are some days when the memories I am presented with on Facebook feel like they are there to…

There are some days when the memories I am presented with on Facebook feel like they are there to remind me that the big changes I am terrified of in my present are not so much different than things I’ve survived before.

A not insignificant part of me would trade those pandemic days for these days when it feels like we are fighting the virus of hate and exclusion. While we didn’t know if COVID was on our groceries or packages, we could wipe, sanitize, and take comfort in knowing we had done all we could. Now, though, we have to examine harder things… digging into Scripture and using reason to explore the lived experience of so many who have been hurt by the traditions the church has upheld for so long.

I am so thankful to serve a God that already knows. A God who loves us despite all our failures. A God that has given us the free will to keep growing and figuring out how to love others as He does.

Even though there does not seem to be a point on the horizon, we can live in obedience to the call into the unknown. Even though there are no easy answers, we can love.

I’m praying for the church of my heritage. Believing that God is at work. Doing my best to live in peace, knowing that love will always be enough…

I love you, friends.

April 19, 2023
I can’t explain circles in a text post. It’s not complicated, but neither is it a few sentences…

I can’t explain circles in a text post. It’s not complicated, but neither is it a few sentences that I could summarize and do any justice.

But tonight, all my circles settled into an incredible balance that just leaves me so thankful to have done the work that has led here.

Sitting around a fire as the sun set, the only thing that could have been better would be if all the people had been in one place.

Just know… if you’re reading this… I probably wished you were around tonight. No matter how long it’s been, you’re always welcome, and I miss you when it’s very long.

Here are the colors of the evening. Darkening blue sky with the first star. Red coals. And my favorite purple tree.

I love you, friends.

April 14, 2023
Today, I spent the day in a couple of different places, talking to a couple of different people abo

Today, I spent the day in a couple of different places, talking to a couple of different people about a couple of different things. On the heels of yesterday, when I spent the day in one place talking to one person about one thing, this was a solid improvement. That may seem like a dig at the one person, and praise for the couple of people… but this is not really the case.

Both statements and the declaration of improvement from one to another are really more about the growing sense that Kansas City only offers as much of a home as I am able to find within myself… and the importance of the growing community in which I find safety.

Last night was heavy, and I fell into bed exhausted and uncertain. Today was much different, and I head to bed one class closer to my masters being done and several hugs closer to heaven. I’ll take today… and yesterday because it brought me here.

Know that you know what you know, friends. Even if no one around you does.

I love you.

April 12, 2023
Happy Easter! After so many Easters in Texas, this year was very different. We were thankful to…

Happy Easter!

After so many Easters in Texas, this year was very different. We were thankful to have been able to make it back to Kansas City last night so that we could be with our local church family today.

It was a good day, though. Pancakes with neighbors, and having Gram and Annette join us for church really made the day special. Then lunch with the rest of our motley crew and home for calm.

Easter held more meaning in this year. Many places where hope had long seemed buried, it was renewed. But as is the norm in life, that hope is not without some new recognition of the costs. Good and bad, happy and sad; life is made up of all the things in between.

Hold the tension. Find the peace. Live in love.

I love you, friends!

April 9, 2023
I’ve had an empty space above the TV since we moved in. During the Christmas season, we stuck a nat

I’ve had an empty space above the TV since we moved in. During the Christmas season, we stuck a nativity up there… but before and since, there has just been a hole.

Yesterday, I went on an adventure with my big brother. When I was a kid, that was the dream. To be included in the big kids’ stuff. These days, it’s a more mundane kind of adventuring. But sometimes, there’s still treasure to be found.

This sign was that for me. In the midst of so many big things; big grief, big dreams, big changes, big adjustments; it’s easy to get overwhelmed. The scary sets in. And sometimes, I forget that good things happen, too.

The hole is filled now. We’re cleaning house and paring down for sanity’s sake. But this message was needed front and center.

Don’t miss other highlights… There’s hope, the expectation of good things coming. There’s always love, especially for people who don’t get enough due to things beyond their control. And there’s a tiny sign below that reminding us that we’re not alone. Sometimes the clouds come, but the stars don’t leave.

Hold on, friends. Have faith, keep hoping, live in love.

I love you!

April 4, 2023
I posted this last year… and I couldn’t have even begun to imagine what would be changing as we…

I posted this last year… and I couldn’t have even begun to imagine what would be changing as we moved.

Tonight, though, I very much feel the same as this post.

But I wore a shirt today that says, “hope is defiant,”… and I’m holding onto that. In defiance of what seems to be coming, I believe God is love. In defiance of what things look like, I believe He is good. In defiance of all of the voices otherwise, I believe He has called me.

I grieve what has come, and I hold onto what is coming.

Be kind. Hold onto hope.

I love you, friends.

March 29, 2023
I have this book that Sean’s grandfather gave me. It’s from 1930. Well-loved, pages creased, spine…

I have this book that Sean’s grandfather gave me. It’s from 1930. Well-loved, pages creased, spine weak. And it is one of my favorite books.

It’s called Songs for Courage. Written by a woman living through some very dark days, it is dedicated to “those who are walking, for a while, through the dark.”

I took it to Africa with me, and have carried it and flipped through it many times when I approach a day or a task that I don’t want to face. It’s a short book. Only 30 pages or so. But it often has something meaningful to remind me of.

This morning was no different. It caught my eye as I was walking out the door, and I grabbed it. Looking for some courage for the task ahead, I came upon this prayer.

I don’t know, anymore, where each day is leading. If I’m honest, I never did. And I will not pretend there is ease in the steady journey forward. Especially since the crowd I used to journey with now often feels like the current against which I move.

“I only know that I may go

Unquestioningly with Thee,

Remembering that what Thou wilt

Is best for me.”

Each new day, each new task, each new experience brings with it a chance to grow. And swimming against the current is not pleasant, but the longer I do it, the stronger I am.

I’m preaching today. And the pulpit is not where I choose to be. But I go where I’m told. And I go believing that God will be there first, will speak through me, and will do a much greater work far longer afterward than I will even be alive. There are nerves, and old tapes playing that I have to record over… but overall, there is peace.

And when I am still… when I stop to listen… I hear the far of voices from the cloud cheering me on. It’s only a whisper. Today, it is enough.

I’m cheering for you today. Whatever it holds, I believe in you. And if you’re also in a place that feels a bit unsteady, wondering what the long hours may hold…

Be still for a moment.

Place your hand on your heart.

Lower your eyebrows.

Drop your tongue from the roof of your mouth.

Relax your shoulders.

Take a deep breath.

And know you are loved.

March 12, 2023
Last week I was in Phoenix. Part ministry, part work, part personal therapeutic time… it was a…

Last week I was in Phoenix. Part ministry, part work, part personal therapeutic time… it was a long hard week. I got home late Monday night after a long day of travel and a lot of emotions.

Sean’s grandfather had been steadily declining since Wednesday, but it sounded like he had somewhat stabilized. I was going to go see him Monday night, but felt like I needed to sleep first.

Bright and early Tuesday morning, I went to pick up a rental to replace the van that’s having major warranty work done and went to see Richard. He was sleeping when I arrived but looked much frailer than when I left. I sat down in his living room and worked for a while until I heard him stirring.

I went in to see if he needed help getting around, and he looked up at me as if he were looking beyond…

Just a few minutes later, all was quiet, and he was gone.

It didn’t seem like he saw me Tuesday morning. If I had to guess, I would say he was seeing a lifetime of friendly faces welcoming him to a place we can only dream of.

Today, we finished cleaning out his apartment here. Three months ago, we moved him into this place. My how life has changed since then.

Thanks to family for hauling me around, helping care for kiddos, for rescuing Ean while we finished up, and to everyone for holding us up as we adjust again suddenly.

Richard will be greatly missed. I learned a lot from him about life, love, and family. Getting to really know him these last couple of years gave me a much better window into who Sean is and where he came from. And I am thankful to have been gifted such an amazing lineage through marriage to support my given family.

March 1, 2023
I found myself contemplating life this week. Coming to a place where I’ve worked hard to speak…

I found myself contemplating life this week. Coming to a place where I’ve worked hard to speak truth and find myself, there was very much a sense that I had more to do when I arrived.

Having the opportunity to reflect on the doors that have opened and closed to get me here, this sculpture near Old Town Scottsdale gave me a practical place to sit in that reflection this morning.

I sat with the uncomfortable reality that I still don’t want to consider all of the doors. There were things I thought had been dealt with that were knocking at the door from the past and things I was terrified to admit knocking at the door to the future.

The doors to the past, present, and future all looked the same, which is a scary thought on its own. I had to trust that I was able to stand firmly in the present, acknowledge the past, and walk toward the future.

I had to be able to see with clarity how I am impacted by triggers and choose to encounter the painful things as an avenue of healing.

I had to lean into the balance and make a choice… because doors can become walls if they are never opened. And learning how and when to walk through them is an important part of the journey.

In choosing to move through them, I was greeted by the beauty within. There are things that I may have to push back out the doors, things that belong in the past or the future and are not to be dealt with today. But in learning to live in the balance, I am able to center myself in who I am, surrounded by the doors that look so tenuously placed, and look up.

The reflection of heaven awaits… and in that reflection is hope.

Hope that the balance of the past, present, and future will have meaning.

Hope that the blood, sweat, and tears poured into this life will have eternal meaning.

Hope that me, myself, and I will be strong enough to continue to stand in the center of the circle of life with the God of community who planted us there with them…

There is much more to come, friends.

And the doors aren’t as precarious as they seem.

Lean in, look up, and love yourself.

I love you!!!

February 26, 2023
I attended Ash Wednesday mass today. That was a new experience. When I realized I would miss the…

I attended Ash Wednesday mass today. That was a new experience. When I realized I would miss the service with my church family this week because I was out of town, I determined to find somewhere to gather with the body.

And the time there, the whole experience… it was another new way to encounter the God of healing in the middle of a desert.

Trusting the gathered body isn’t always something I would choose to do alone. But intentionally seeking it out and choosing to sit quietly in my discomfort created space to meet God in a whole new way today.

I came to quiet the voices today.

Voices that tell me that the dust

is evidence of needing more work.

Divinity met me there,

whispering sacred words of welcome.

I sought out the stillness today.

Stillness that is often hurried away

in the rush of “normal” life.

Productivity came along in the

business of rest.

I prayed for energy today.

Energy to press on

through endeavors that shout loudly of past failures.

As I admitted exhaustion,

God granted the deep longing of my heart,

fostering connection and removing shame.

I went this morning searching for hope.

Hope that the grief, the loss,

the feeling of complete emptiness would pass.

Instead, grief greeted me like an old friend,

reminding me that pain is not hopeless.

Today, I felt the weight of the ashes on my forehead,

the impact of the cross on my life,

and the reality of the work that is still to do.

Instead of crushing me with the reminder,

the dust was a welcome call to press on.

May you, too, find strength and space to lean in.

I love you, friends.

February 22, 2023