Happy birthday to me yesterday. Forty-nine seems like a big number in my brain, but I’m glad to be here with that big number, celebrating the life given to me by the breath of God.

Yesterday was one of those good days, a day filled with reminders that life is better when you remember the Joy.

And isn’t that the truth
even this morning, 
even after the birthday festivities,
even after the flowers and gifts
and love and special treats
meant to usher in a new year
of being alive?

Life is filled with both:
Pain and beauty,
sorrow and joy,
suffering and celebration.

My forties have been full of those suffering moments. Yet, in the same breath, I recall the loveliness. Milestones for my kids, longevity of a solid marriage that’s faced the storm, and personal growth that can only come through the creative hand of God. These transitional years of motherhood, having the support of loving family, embracing friendships old and new, meeting new sides of Wisdom, at long last becoming a published author, just to name a few...those have all been Very Good Things.

And through it all, faith, hope, and love.

These three remain.

So here, on the day after my 49th birthday, let me focus on Your Goodness, Lord. You are my Guide, my Protector, my Everything. I give this year to You, trusting You are present and alive now just as You always have been and forever will be.

And, just in case You forgot, I would like life to err on the side of Goodness this year. It’s kind of a lot more fun.

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I find myself in a strange season of life.

A season formed by the one
that came before
yet daily shaped by those
required life transitions 
that come with womanhood
and motherhood
and marriage
and getting older
and all the human things
we go through in a life.

Life “as it was” is not an option.
It just cannot be what it once was.
Yet life “as I expected” is also not
where I’m headed.
It’s constantly being reshaped
by things out of my control.

There are things I would have joked my way through
before
but menopause doesn’t feel funny
when chemo forces it on a body too early.
There’s very little “I can’t believe this is happening”
among friends 
because—oh—I’m already there.

And cancer redefines relationships,
yes, even marriage,
in ways that are difficult to comprehend.
I’m not in a very humorous mood these days.
I’m more serious, more mellow,
more tired from the whiplash
of the past few years
and I find myself
in quiet, contemplative moods
that don’t easily laugh
or find energy to engage.

And life goes on.
My kids are getting older
as they’re meant.
I’m happy for them,
proud,
just not ready for these changes
to my mothering life.
But I know that is normal,
it's the way things are meant
to be.

I often feel I’m spinning my wheels
in this strange new season of life,
turning up mud as I try 
to move ahead
with what happens
now.

And even as life looks different,
I wrestle with those same old things,
louder now in my spirit,
the ones that
breed
on insecurity
and comparison
and wishing I was more.
I struggle
to be brave,
wondering how to jump back in,
to find where I belong
in this altered landscape
of my life.

So here I am.
Standing.
Trying.

Forward and back,
a step here and there,
keeping in mind
there are seasons,
and this must be another one,
hard in its own way
yet beautiful
all the same.

I guess every season is strange
in its own way.
That is nothing new
for anyone.
Every season has hard,
and every season has
beauty.

I know I’ll find Life,
I am meant to find Life,
as I keep looking out 
for
the 
Beauty.

Held: When Ground Gives Way

And here it is:

Held: When Ground Gives Way

Available at moonglow.press, Amazon, and by order anywhere books are sold. 

The hardest things in life happen when we least expect them, but we’re never alone. God Stays even in our wrestling, our questions, our very real tears. And we are Held. 

Please share with anyone going through a hardest thing. 

If you’d like to help launch this book well, please leave a review on Amazon! It really helps!! And if you’d like to join my street team to get the word out, send me a message! I’ll get your name to my manager aka husband. 

Happy book birthday, Held!! I’m proud to offer you to the world. And so grateful to be a #publishedbookauthor.

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I’ve spent a solid number of hours scrolling Instagram videos this week. More than I’ll admit. But I was feeling low and nervous and I suddenly realized I’d gotten wrapped up in watching musicians sing their songs. 

I was enamored. Inspired by all these voices making their way to my ears. 

It moves me to watch artists singing. On all kinds of stages, in all sorts of environments, nervously or confidently committed to performing a song for others to enjoy. 

Sometimes it’s revolutionary. Sometimes it’s a song I’ve heard a hundred times. Almost always it’s a reminder that wow, people are so gifted. People have such talent. 

People change the atmosphere, the energy, around them when they follow the spark inside and share it with the world around them. People affect my heart in beautiful ways I would not know without their offering. 

Music and art and painting and words have incredible power to light up this world in ways only humans, made in the image of a Creative God, could ever do. 

And so, in these days of being moved by the willingness and bravery of so many people I’ll never meet—here I am. A little more confident. A lot in awe. Ready to share my own words in the hope that someone is moved to understand a bit of the extraordinariness of God simply because I’m willing to share. 

My book will release next week. It’s been a labor of love. And therapy. And grief and wisdom and so much more. 

It is a song from my heart, a painting from my mind, a courageous sharing from the depths of who I am. 

I’m ready. 

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I’ve been putting off this post for weeks. 
Why?
Who knows. 
The human heart is human. 

Scared of vulnerability?
No. 
Scared of reactions to 
vulnerability?
Yes. A bit. 

Imposter syndrome?
Absolutely. 
Who am I 
to do this thing
the great writers do?

Stuckness?
A little bit. 
Life keeps happening 
and so do 
the feelings,
the experiences,
the navigating 
and the figuring out. 

Best I can do is
recalibrate. 
Reengage. 
Rededicate
myself to trusting God. 

We’re about to send this book for its proof copy and I’m nervous. It’s not the best time of year for a book release.

But I’ll do it anyway because this is how it’s done when life happens. 

Held: When Ground Gives Way. Coming soon. I hope it helps people going thru their own hard things. 

More to come. 

xoxo

Laura 

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I worry 
a lot
that I did it
all wrong.
That I missed
the big things
and made too much
of the little ones.

You’ll notice this
as you get older.
You’ll recognize these places
where I missed the boat,
where I made too big a deal
or not enough.
And you’ll wonder
why and how
and wish I had
done it differently.

I worry,
with all my misses,
that you won’t
find your own path
with God.
That you won’t know
the things I really wanted
you to know,
the things it’s my job
as a mom
to make sure you know.

Yet in the middle of my worrying,
I believe you’ll know
more than I know,
more than I could teach you,
more than I could think to hope
you would one day know.

Because God.

Because as much as I’m your mom,
as thoroughly as you come from me,
you come first from Him.
From His image,
His design,
His purpose, 
His hopes.

He knows you
and He loves you.
He cares for you
and He holds you
so very close.

I could never
get it all right.
But I trust
He will.
He will meet you
and lead you,
refine you
and reveal His goodness
to you and for you.

And really,
that’s what I want for you,
to see His goodness,
to run to Him,
to seek Him out
on your dark days
and notice His joy
on your good days
and rely on Him 
for all your days.

Because He is good.
He is faithful.
He is closer to you
than the breath you take
and nearer
than you could ever know.

So I will turn my worries
into prayers.
Always.
On your behalf and mine.

Because God.
Because God.
Because God.

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I cannot carry the world. 

But You can. 

I cannot hold the weight
of desire and grief 
and making it all right. 

But You do. 

I do not need to lead
a revolution 
or shout my own name 
from the rooftops
or seek approval
wherever I go. 

My calling is simple:
to join You
at work in this world.  

To follow As You Walk
and Rest in Your Presence.

To trust
You carry it all,
and You carry
me too.

To honor
this Gift
of You 
calling
me. 

You are the One
Who Gives Life. 

In you 
I find myself. 
I find This Life. 
I find myself living.  

Today 
I align
my soul
with Yours

Today 
I find
Breath. 

Today
I give it
all
to
You.

Hey Kiddos!

Today is album release day for Bud, and as we celebrate, it brings to mind wisdom Dad and I have taken to heart.

You were born creative. It’s in your DNA. You’re human. You’re made in God’s image. God is creative. You are creative. 

Creativity is both a human and divine part of your life here on earth. 

It’s embedded in your soul to be like this Creative God. You tap into Who God is when you join Him in this spiritual act of creating. You access energy and life when you exercise your creative muscles. 

I’ve always loved witnessing your personalities in what you make. It’s always brought me joy to experience your drawings, art projects, words, handwriting, songs, stories, and so much more. You are vibrant, intelligent, amazingly creative people in all kinds of ways. 

I believe in each of you. Deeply. I admire you. I love you. I want to be like you when I grow up.

Producing art, whatever its form, grounds your heart. It reminds you of God’s image in you and affirms to your brain you’re uniquely made to add beauty and goodness to this world in only-you ways. Wherever you are. Whatever paths you follow. Whether you think you can or fear you cannot.

So here’s me encouraging you to keep making art. 

When you’re not sure what to do—be curious. Wonder. Explore. Dive into things that spark that quick thought of “I wish I could” or “I’d really like to” in your spirit. And then just try it. Even if it’s hard. Even if it’s new. Even if it scares you. Even if you think it’s not important.

You might find it’s foundational and brings you face-to-face with Life.

Then celebrate. Celebrate what you’ve made. Celebrate this gift you’ve been given to create something. Celebrate yourselves and celebrate each other. 

It’s a spiritual practice to intentionally celebrate each other. 

Celebration encourages your heart. It reveals God to you in positive, uplifting, unexpected ways. 

Celebration is a sign of strength and maturity. It draws our family together. You were made to root for each other. 

Intentional celebration is part of the beauty of creativity. 

So today, we celebrate you, Ethan Ryan, and your amazing new album and all the hard work and artistry and passion that have gone into making it a reality. 

Your album is a thing of beauty and a gift to the world. 

Your creativity reminds us to be creative too. 

Love you kiddos,

Mom

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Maybe someday is now.

That day when all will be well
and joy comes to stay.

I’m always waiting for the better time,
the better way,
the better moment once all is made whole
and sorrow cannot cloud
the sunlight
and tears no longer crowd
the laughter
into hard-fought-for corners
of relief.

But maybe this gift of heaven-come-to-earth
is joy in the middle of sorrow,
flowers that rise 
with obstinate glory
inside the messy cracks of life
with all its difficult realities.

Can I be okay with that kind of joy?
Can I seek that kind of joy?
Can I be content to know this joy along the way?

I hope so. 
I don’t want to miss it. 
I don't want to lose
the essence of myself
in maybe-somedays.

Maybe someday is now.

Give me eyes to see
the glory 
right in front of me. 

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The weeks have flown by
even as life slowed to a crawl.
Wondering,
waiting,
facing reality
even as we prayed
for the most miraculous
recovery
and yearned
to go back to life
as we knew it
with you.

Hope and sorrow
have intertwined,
grief and love
have poured out
in tears,
laughter has come
in the middle of pain.

I’ll always be grateful
for those hospital days.
The ones that gave us
just a little more time
with you.
The ones that reminded us,
even as it all changed,
that you were still you.

Through it all, 
you loved
and laughed
and sang
and drew our family together
in that only-you way.

I’m sad to miss you now.
To have you gone to that place
where only Jesus can see
your face for awhile.

It hurts.

Yet I’m grateful
for the beauty.
For the love.
For the way 
you guided me
and refined me
and showed me 
that McCullough
way to live.

I’m honored 
to have known you and loved you. 
To have been loved by you,
a proud and doting
father-in-law who 
generously welcomed me
into your family
and treated me 
like a daughter.

I’m honored 
to have held you close
in my heart,
to carry on your legacy
by raising my children
and their children
to understand
the gift you have been
to our world.

And I’m honored 
to write this post 
in honor of you.
As a symbol of my love.
As acknowledgement
that you saw in me
a gift with words
and always, always
encouraged me
to write.

You were a great man,
Philip Allen McCullough.
In all the ways that mattered.

Thank you for a life well lived.

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Hello 2026.

I’m grateful you’re here.

You came a little quickly, if I’m honest. 
But time seems to do that these days.

I’ve learned enough now in this life of mine to understand you’re gonna hold it all—the good, the hard, the old, the new, things I love—and things that require a whole lot of grace and mercy.

Isn’t that the complex, mysterious beauty of life?

So I’m sure you’ll understand, in these first new days of January, that my heart doesn’t need the striving or the ambitious goal setting or anything else that pulls me in a hundred directions.

I need One Thing.

I need God Who Stays.
As long as I have Him,
I’m gonna be okay.

So I greet you with calm anticipation and quiet determination to do what I can and appreciate the days you bring. 

And Lord, to You I offer what is in my hands and heart—the good, the bad, and all the rest—with hopeful trust and quiet confidence that You will be in 2026 the One You’ve always been—Keeper Of My Heart, Holder Of My Days, and the One I trust to guide me through it all.

Hello 2026. 

I’m grateful you’re here.

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I often get stuck on 
I forgive you.

Maybe that’s because
They don’t know what they’re doing 
needs some room in my heart.

I can forgive them.
I can speak the words.
I can say, 
You don’t get to own me,
I’m releasing your power 
to control
my heart.

But they don’t know what they’re doing,
that requires humility.

That’s the one that 
sees the injustice,
sees the better way,
understands what should have been,
holds the hand to bleeding wounds,
and offers those forgiving words
to God
anyway.

Can I accept
they're blind to what is right
and good and holy?

Can I lay down my superiority 
of knowing the better way?
Of seeing the righteous, 
justice-infused way,
that they blatantly refuse to follow
with no concern for me or mine?

Can I lay my pride
beside the pride
of the One Who Humbled Himself, 
agreeing they don’t know
and, yes, they were so obviously,
absolutely,
wrong?

Can I sit with Him 
in His knowing humility?
Can I accept that their
not knowing
leads gut-wrenchingly to death
in my life and theirs
and say those forgiveness words
with Jesus
anyway?

Because as He said those words,
those they don’t know what they’re doing words,
He knew it was unjust,
He knew death was about to happen,
He knew evil was asserting its ugly privilege
to steal and kill and destroy.

And He said them anyway.

Because God. 

Because they had no idea
what was dead
was just about to rise,
what looked like power
would fall,
impotent,
at the feet
of the One Who Came Alive.

Father, forgive them…
They don't know what they're doing.

I don’t know.

It requires more of me 
than I’m able to give
on my own.

But I believe
He came alive,
and I believe
His Living
will make it all right
in the end.

Somehow.
In some way
that means Life
for my soul.

And that gives me
the strength I need
to 
try.

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America needs her mothers. 

Mothers
who hold children,
who hold influence over adults,
who understand what it means 
to nurture and soothe,
to correct and guide. 

Mothers
who speak wisdom,
who know the deeper way,
unafraid
to call out
the better things. 

America is hurting. 
America suffers. 
America forgets
what it means
to be alive. 

It’s personal,
within reach 
of our mothering arms.
The need is etched
in the faces 
of those 
we meet every day. 

Share the message:

Life holds Goodness. 
Life holds Meaning. 
Life is precious. 
And every face,
every heart,
is included
in this Life. 

When we see behavior 
that harms
and degrades
and attempts
to shred the dignity
of people’s hearts and lives,
it is our job
to redirect
and remind
and speak
into existence 
a Better Way.

Words matter. 
Empathy 
and understanding 
matter. 
The way we show up,
wherever we are,
matters
in personal,
communal,
even global
ways.  

Today, 
as a mother,
I align my voice
with this
Mothering Way. 

If you have 
nothing kind to say,
be quiet. 
Use your words 
to heal,
not to tear down.

Power is a pseudo-god. 
Money is a pseudo-security. 

Selfishness
and destruction 
are the way
of the weak,
too often 
disguised as strength. 

America,
where you
find yourself
wounded and broken,
when you need
reassurance 
that you, yourself,
are loved,
turn your attention 
to the wisdom
of your nearest mother. 

There are lots of us. 
We’re not hard to find. 
And you already know
what we’re here to say:

Love is the Way Forward. 
Love never fails. 

Always and only,
choose Love.  

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Forgiveness.

It came up in Bible study this morning. 
And it reminded me it’s time for a forgiveness cleanse.

Life is messy.
Filled with people
who, at their best,
live in harmony,
seeking to build up,
and at their worst
buy into the lie
that tearing down,
in word or action 
or some distorted view 
of life,
brings power
and superiority. 

But looking at Jesus, 
I cannot find reason
to hold grudges.
I cannot find an excuse
to live in the tearing down
or the harboring resentment and ill wishes
or the seeking revenge. 

I only ever see Him forgive.

“Father, forgive them…”

It’s a personal challenge to join my voice to His by saying these words. 

It’s a necessary faith practice to say, “I forgive.” 

Even when I don’t want to. 
Even when I cannot. 
Even when “they don’t deserve it.”

I am the “them” in Jesus’ words, yet He forgives me. 
Completely. Willingly. Always.

It is good to practice forgiving others 
in the quiet of my own relationship with God.

“for they know not what they do.”

I have hurt, and I have harmed, both intentionally and unknowingly. 
Yet He always forgives me.

So it is good for me to get quiet with Jesus, to ask Him to bring to mind those I’m harboring resentment toward, those who hurt my feelings or wounded me or glanced over me in some way, whether they recognized it or not.

I hold grudges I don’t even recognize in my mind and heart. 
But when I enter this intentional space, these few short moments of asking God to bring to mind those I need to forgive, then literally saying “I forgive ____,” 
I am changed. I am softened. 
I am restored to an understanding of what it means to be forgiven.

Forgiveness is not a magical spell. 
It’s not reconciliation in harmful spaces that must be avoided. 
But it is a sacred practice 
that guides my heart and mind to a Better Way of Living.

A conscious decision to let go.
Reclaiming my emotional well-being.
Shifting from vengeance to compassion.
It is for my good. 

I seek these Good Things in life.
Often, it takes some intentional participation,
imperfect though it may be.
But when I do what He says,
when I practice forgiving,
I am internally healed,
little by little,
one small forgiveness at a time.

So today I’ll practice that forgiveness.
I'll ask Him to cleanse my soul.
I'll ask for strength to forgive others.

And I'm confident,
through His forgiveness of me,
and as I fumble my way through forgiving others,
those Good Things 
will continue 
to grow.

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Hey Kiddos,

I hope these letters are a gift to you, whether now or someday later. They’re one way I decided to connect with you, to give you the gift of my voice, when I came face to face with the fragility of life. 

As your mom, I bear responsibility to form you, to shape you, to share my life so you understand the foundation you’re building on and always, always, know you are loved and cared for and known. 

Sometimes I hear a phrase that strikes a chord in my soul. “Swimming in the shallows.” That’s one I heard yesterday. 

Dad and I have raised you in deep waters. Depth of thought and knowledge and faith and character. Deep understanding and experiences. Deep wisdom that has led us through our own lives, that we’ve done our best to pass on to each of you in meaningful ways.

You’ve spent your lives understanding depths that many don’t experience until late in life, if at all. 

You are meant to know these depths. It’s part of your legacy. Part of your inheritance to draw on throughout your days.

Yet, at times, you’ll find yourself swimming in the shallows. 

There’s nothing inherently wrong with the shallows. Many people spend their lives there.

But when you’ve known the wonders of the deep, and you find yourselves swimming in the shallows, you might find yourselves gradually unsettled by the shallowness around you. 

There have been signs in my own life when I’ve gotten caught up in the shallows and forgotten that life is found in the depths. It usually comes out as anger. Irritation. Indifference. Complacency. Boredom. Jealousy. Pride. It might look like that for you, too.

I pray, in those moments, you remember the deep places you come from. The wisdom and understanding you’ve been given. The nourishment you have gained from swimming in the depths.

The deep waters are part of you. You only need to be aware, to turn your hearts toward them, and you will find yourselves headed in the right direction.

I love you all. You are my cherished ones. 

Mom

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Some days I force myself to write
after days and days
of not writing.

Something.
Anything.
Stringing words together,
reassuring myself that it’s still here,
this drive to put voice
to the feelings and thoughts
that swirl around and around in my head.

Time passes.
Time without writing.
Time without speaking.
Frozen time, 
standing at the edge
of something versus nothing
until one day I wake up
and realize
I've been gone.
I’ve given in to the void again,
the void of wandering around in my head
without giving the words 
an exit from my brain
and an entrance to the page.

So I relax my shoulders,
sit up straight,
and tell myself
to just do it,
just write it,
just take the action,
even though I feel like an imposter
holding a pen
with nothing of note to say.

And as I do,
the voice quiets,
the one that says it’s too late,
I missed my shot.

What does that voice know anyway?

It’s never too late
to try again.

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I easily forget the things I want to do.
The things that call to me
and light me up inside
and remind me 
that I’m
alive.

I easily embrace the things I don’t want to do.
The things that seem 
obvious to avoid,
that drag my spirit down
and taunt me
with futility
and lifelessness.

Every day
I face
this age-old
human
conundrum.

Every day
I wrestle 
and contemplate
and try to win
yet often
lose.

I spin my wheels
where I’m stuck.

I lay flat on my back
unable to get up.

I wallow.

But I am not made to wallow.

I am made
to hold the hand
of the One Who pulls me up
out of my stuckness,
the One Who puts me back on my feet,
the One Who walks with me,
speaking Life
and Hope
and Goodness,
reminding me
that all the Beauty
is found in Him.

So I grab hold of His hand.
Again.

And 
at last
I find breath
for my weary soul.

Today I am tired. 
I am emotional. 
I am frustrated 
by my own limitations. 

I am overwhelmed 
by things I cannot control
and disheartened
by things I cannot ignore. 

This world
can be cruel
and I’m not sure 
I have what it takes
to stand upright
against the onslaught
of its hardness. 

I find it tiring
to maintain 
this body
that refuses to work
as it should. 

I find it difficult 
to root out 
the ugliness
in the shadows
of my own best intentions. 

I find it challenging 
to understand
my role
in this world
that needs 
every hint
of Light. 

I am wrapped up 
in the confusing tangles 
of life. 

Yet these three remain:
Faith
Hope
and Love. 

So here I am. 

Trusting in Your existence. 
That You are Good
and You hear
every voice 
in a world filled with shouting. 

Confident 
that the future
holds Joy
I cannot comprehend. 

Holding fast to the Truth
that Love
is the Foundation
and the Means for Beauty
in this Life
You so intricately designed. 

Here I am. 

Here I am. 

Here I am. 

May Your Kingdom come
and Your Will be done
on earth
as it is
in Heaven. 

Is it Who is God
or what does Jesus look like
or how did He behave
so how should I
or is it 
contemplating
what a human is
at his or her best

Is it asking every human 
to dig deep within
to find a little faith
and help transform the world 
now
which seems
impossible
but also
The Greatest of Plans

Is it cosmic or is it personal
found written in the stars 
or Mysterious 
and Divine
and placed in the hands
of people who often fail
but yearn
inside their souls
to be loved
and
to get it right

And where is 
the standard
anyway
where is 
the Church
who holds 
the real banner
the one
that announces to the world 
a Kingdom-Worthy Hero 
to know
and to follow
and to hear 
and to kneel in front of
with awe

The only answers I know
for sure
are in 
the One Who said
to love Him
and to love my neighbor
most of all

So
today
as I’m wondering 
again
what in the world
is happening
and why
and how long
will the madness
linger
and I’m thinking 
of all the ways
this world will never 
thrive
but secretly 
Hoping
that I’m wrong
and actually
it’s all gonna be okay

I will do
what That Guy
Who broke into time
and turned the world 
upside down 
said to do

The One Who said He Was God
and ended up dying 
but instead 
He Lives
because
He Really Was

As often as it is up to me
I will love That God
and love my neighbor

Those two things matter

If He said it
it must work

And Lord knows we 
desperately 
need
Something That Works

So instead of
only
weeping in despair
I’ll answer my 
desperate questions
on the path
He has shown to be True
by loving Him
and loving my neighbor 
by looking for
by trusting
by following 
by imitating
The One Who Promised
It Will Be Alright

At least I’ll try

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To my darling children,

You are growing so quickly. It’s hard for me to keep up. I’ve had to reorient myself to the changing dynamics of what it means to be your mom in the last couple of years. As you’ve all gotten so much older. As I’ve resurfaced in the world after such a long and challenging season. 

It’s not been easy for me, mentally. You see the physical challenges. You sometimes see my tears. But I wrestle a lot. About who I am. What life is all about. How I’m meant to show up in this precious life. How to lament but also how to be inspired. How to get excited about Who God Is in this culture of people-don’t-trust-Christians and everybody ’s-losing-their-minds.

I often find myself afraid that I haven’t shown you the Goodness of God. That I haven’t done the right things, said the right things, modeled the right things. All the things. Whatever the things are. But God Loves us anyway. He pursues us. I can trust Him as He chases me, and I can trust Him as He chases you. 

Because it’s all about invitation. About inviting us to the Table. Drawing us to His side to be in relationship with us and make this world what it’s meant to be.

There’s More. So Much More. More than we see in the distortions of Love around us. But how do I know that? How do I grasp that? How do I hold onto Hope when life has been so hard and there are so many loud voices clamoring for our attention? 

As I wrestle, and try to remember who I am, and discover the version of me who’s been through cancer, and been married for 28 years (so long, right?), and has 4 teenagers/young adults (#mybabiesaregrown), and wonders who she is after being knocked down for a while - I realize that I find myself in a similar season to each of you. You’re also trying to figure out who you are, wanting there to be Goodness but not sure what that means, and if it is Something Good, then what does that mean for your lives?

I’m reading a book. Surprised by Hope by N.T. Wright. There are a lot of profound thoughts there. You should read it someday. But for now, I’ll share some words that struck me with Hope. That gave me a Sense of Purpose. That reminded me of the vision of Love that has infused our lives. 

I hope you find some Beauty in them too:

This gives me direction. It reminds me of who I want to be. Of how I want to live. Of why Beauty is so important to me.

I hope it helps you, too. You’re all brilliantly gifted, divinely imaged, and so unique that it takes my breath away. I’m so excited to see how the Breath of God inspires your lives.

Love you all, 

Mom

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