The 2016 story of us

When I was 25 I dated a guy who loved it when I would tell him the story of us: how we met, what I felt then, when it changed, and he would interject, winding his version of the story into mine.

It’s one of my favorite past times: with coworkers, with friends, family.  Sharing first impressions, memories, shifting intimacy, growing connection: all of us telling our version of the story of us.  I do this with Jesus too.  Sometimes it’s the full epic version, and sometimes it’s the story of us that day or year.

Some new year new resources

I love new years.  Not New Years Eve or Day, but the concept of a new year.  I think it’s because it feels like an ebeneezer: a mark in the ground to say – we have made it another year.  And I’m also a big fan of looking backwards and considering, thanking, learning from our failures and celebrating our gifts.

Each year I spend some time answering questions that help me think through the year gone by and dream for the year ahead.  This year, I built out some worksheets that help me consider my goals in light of my values (and incorporate some of what I’m learning about right now in school!)

Words from the wilderness: christmas

[A year ago, I wrote the words below in an email to a few unspeakably precious friends. It’s uncharacteristic, but I have nothing I would edit about it.  The best thing about the wilderness is the way Jesus meets you there.  I pray its truth finds you today. I pray He finds you today.  And if you are in a dark place, know this – He is there too.  Louder, and more tangible and more yours than you ever imagined.]

Words from the wilderness: the encouragement of pain

[I have been stuffed full of words for so long, I thought they would pour out of me onto this blog, but this week, as I have been sorting through the thousands and thousands of words I have written over the past year, I got a little stuck.  Which ones do I share first? Share at all? maybe they’re a little bit too dark? Too sad? Too hopeless? Too intense?

New blog

Welcome to a new blog.

I started journaling before there were blogs – in 1989, scribbling thoughts in a red leather notebook my Aunt bought me with one of those pens that would change colors if you just clicked down on the top. When the internet arrived I became aware that there was a name for a writer like me: a blogger. That was back in the live-journal days – pre-Jesus – dark pages covered with typed angst, encrypted posts to pseudo boyfriends who didn’t care to do the decoding.