But in the meantime, for a lil Sunday Shortie, here are some thoughts from people much smarter than me that I’ve been holding close this month:

Holding Hope in Intercession

“One way to think of Christ’s intercession, then, is simply that Jesus is praying for you right now. ‘It’s a consoling thought,’ wrote theologian Louis Berkhof, “that Christ is praying for us even when we are negligent in our prayer life.’ Our prayer life stinks most of the time. But what if you heard Jesus praying aloud for you in the next room? Few things would calm us more deeply.” - Dane C. Ortlund in Gentle and Lowly

God Uses It All for His Purpose

In 1947, Dr. Paul Brand had an experience with a leprosy patient that led him to realize he was called to serve people with leprosy. His earlier training in construction and engineering became useful in developing rehabilitation tools and surgical techniques. He later became a doctor and surgeon, specializing in reconstructing the hands of leprosy patients. When considering his winding career path - and how it all led him to have the abilities to do exactly what God wanted when God wanted, he reflects, “In hindsight, I have a settled sense that God was planning out the details of my life even when the movements at the time seemed like detours.”

It Is Our Privilege To To Praise God

“O Lord God, holy Father, be You now and forever blessed. For as You will, so it has been done; and what You do is good. Let Your servant rejoice in You, not in myself or in any other. You alone are my true joy. You are my hope and my crown. You are my gladness and my honor. O Lord, what has Your servant but what has been received from You without deserving it? Yours are all things that You have given and have made. Amen.” - Thomas A Kempis

walk into this new week with God’s grace, peace and power. know that He has a purpose and plan for you and that you are wholly and deeply loved.

xoxo always,

paige

Tish writes for those who have walked through seasons of unfulfilled longing and the quiet, faithful practices that sustain us there. She writes about perseverance and resilience: qualities of faith that often feel countercultural in a world that tells us to optimize, move on, and avoid anything that feels stuck.

She says that because we rarely talk about these seasons, we often lack the language and resources to understand what God might be doing within them. We miss what they are forming in us, and we miss where God is present. But when we share our stories of these “winding middles,” we remind each other how to keep going.

This idea of telling stories “from the middle” brought me back to earlier this summer when my pastor asked me to share my testimony. I’ve always felt like I don’t have a very exciting story to tell. There was no dramatic conversion story and, praise God, there has not been a dramatic de-conversion story either. Instead, by the grace of God, my story has been one of returning to Jesus day after day after day - even in the seasons when He feels far away. It has been a story of the Holy Spirit meeting me through the ordinary practices of faith and reminding me that, in the end, nothing is wasted.

Perhaps the reason we need to tell stories of the middle is because these seasons often reveal the deepest work God is doing in us. The places we would most like to hurry through can become the very places where He teaches us a deeper understanding of His love.

You all have given me space in these substack posts to tell my story of the winding middle, and for that I am deeply thankful.

In Tish’s words, “Glory be to the only one who makes beauty from ashes, to the Word, from whom any goodness in our little words flows, and by whom they will be redeemed.”

xoxo always,

paige

As Kelsie and I drove into the canyon last week, I instinctively rolled down the window to “taste the air.” There’s something about the smell of cedar, the sound of the river, and the familiar curves of that road that immediately takes me back. Before we even reached the gate, tears welled up in my eyes. Some places become part of your story, and this place is woven into mine. God has met me there again and again. He taught me how to pray in these cabins. He taught me dependence in the ranch house. He taught me the beauty of spiritual rhythms and the gift of faithful community on the back porch. Within Singing Hills, I’ve laughed harder than anywhere else on earth, and I’ve cried some of the deepest tears of my life. I still find myself longing for golden-hour sunsets spilling across the canyon, crushing juice boxes at Cantina, the nightly mop, and my end of day trek up Tarantula Hill.

I’ve always loved that the camp is called Singing Hills. Every time I hear the name, my mind goes to Psalm 121: “I lift up my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth.” Those hills (and valleys) have witnessed so many prayers. They’ve echoed songs of worship, late-night conversations, homesick tears, and lives changed by the quiet work of God. It has been a place of refuge for generations.

And yet, as I hold tightly to my love for this place, my heart also breaks as we approach the one-year anniversary of the devastating floods just down the road at Camp Mystic, throughout Hunt, and across Kerrville. Our Cambridge community is still carrying the heartache of losing a precious student and friend. With each day, we anticipate passing another anniversary of the text that changed everything, of the weeks of frantic searching and vigils, of funerals.

For the many friends I love who will be reliving some of the darkest days of their lives, I pray that the Lord would continue to meet them with His presence. I pray that He would meet all of us in the places where our shattering and His shaping meet. I pray that our sorrow would not be wasted, but that it would deepen our dependence on Him and make us more aware of His nearness. And when words fail us, I pray we would keep lifting our eyes to the hills, remembering that our help comes from the Lord. He is there, in the deepest gloom, weeping with us.

✨ the content plate! what i read and watched in june 2026 ✨

keep scrolling for the list of what i’ve been reading and watching now that the nba isn’t dictating my content plate!

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There’s just something about sports (especially pop culturally relevant sports) that completely draws me in. I love getting to know the players’ stories, following the rivalries, riding the highs and lows of winning and losing, cheering alongside thousands of strangers, and, of course, the memes!

This playoff run has been so fun! It’s united our city in a way that feels increasingly rare. For weeks, it’s been impossible to walk around San Antonio without seeing Spurs shirts, hearing “Go Spurs Go,” and watching people rally around a group of young guys who were hand-selected for our city and who genuinely seem to love what they’re doing together. For the last few months, San Antonio has all been on the same team. That sense of shared joy and purpose is something I haven’t experienced in San Antonio for a long time. And honestly, it’s made me long for the day when we’ll all be united around Christ, our true and ultimate Victor.

There’s a liturgy in Every Moment Holy for competitors that I’ve thought about often throughout this playoff run. It reflects on how sports can serve as a pattern pointing toward the story of redemption: an active parable of struggle, of hope defeated and hope resurgent, against a real opponent who seeks our defeat. It reminds us that we are to live as disciples: mindful of the clock, eyes fixed on the prize, knowing that our choices matter; and that through training and perseverance, we are shaped into people of greater fortitude, endurance, faith, focus and discipline as we offer our lives in service to God and for His glory. And that we may be gracious in victory and gracious in defeat, remembering that whether we are players or fans, we are first representatives of the Kingdom of Christ.

If you know me - you know I’m not sporty. When I was in eighth grade, I lost field day competitions to a six year old. But I love to watch it, to cheer, to hope, and to rally behind my team.

So yes, I’ll be counting down the days until the Spurs are back… but in the meantime, we’ve still got the PGA, Wimbledon, the U.S. Open, and college football to carry us through! Rest up boys, we’ll see you in October and will keep racing for seis!!

walk into this new week with God’s grace, peace and power. know that He has a purpose and plan for you and that you are wholly and deeply loved.

xoxo always,

paige

looking for more? books i’ve read and love and tell everyone to read:

• east of eden (have read 4+ times, and now it’s going to be a show in the fall - eek!!)

• demon copperhead (continually trying to chase the high of when i read it)

• this tender land (would make such a good movie!)

• lonesome dove (long but worth it!!)

• tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow (you either love or hate it, i loved)

• the prince of tides! (never has a book been so funny while being so sad)

• the dutch house (child of divorce core)

• fearfully + wonderfully made (nonfiction! think about it all the time!)

may the lord incline his ear and answer. may He be near in ways we can sense and know, convincing us of His care and steady the spinning of our worlds.

✨ the content plate! what i read and watched in may 2026 ✨

keep scrolling for the list of what i’ve been reading and watching during the off hours when the spurs haven’t been my entire personality!

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Last year, though, the Lord met me on Mother’s Day in such a tender and unexpected way.

On a day when many sermons understandably focus on Mary, the mother of Jesus, or celebrate the beauty and blessing of motherhood (both of which are true and worthy of honor!), God knew my heart was especially sensitive. And in His kindness, the sermon centered on Mary Magdalene: a woman who was not a mother, yet still lived a life marked by deep love, nurturing devotion, and spiritual motherhood. The message celebrated the many women who mother others every day, whether they are biological mothers or not.

I’m a few days from finishing my 13th year of teaching first grade, and that sermon reminded me that I pour myself into the sacred work of mothering every single day. I brush little girls’ hair before school pictures, rub backs when someone feels sick, celebrate learning milestones, gently discipline when needed, and pray constantly for my students to know Jesus and feel loved.

That sermon helped me recognize God’s fingerprints all over my daily life. It reminded me that even in the waiting, this season still holds purpose and beauty and I still have the opportunity to mother twenty little people every day.

A few weeks ago, one of my students reached over and put a sticker on me that said “Wow” — but she accidentally placed it upside down on my shirt, so instead it read “Mom.” It felt like one of those sweet little God-winks — a quiet reminder from Him that He sees me in this season.

I still pray daily that God will answer my desire to be a wife and mother someday. And I know many others carry that same longing, too. The ache can feel very real. But in the meantime, I’m continually reminding myself that my worth and purpose is not defined by my relationship status or whether I have children of our own (yet or ever). God uses me in deeply meaningful ways right where I am.

And while the longing still exists, I pray that it doesn’t blind me to the goodness and calling God has already entrusted to me in this season. And I deeply believe that He sees me here, too.

walk into this new week with God’s grace, peace and power. know that He has a purpose and plan for you and that you are wholly and deeply loved.

xoxo always,

paige

I loved everything about her: playing with her accessories, dressing like her in a custom smocked dress set made by my talented mom, and, in true Paige fashion, reading every book in the Samantha series.

Later this fall, in honor of 40 years of American Girl, the brand is releasing the first novel for adults, Samantha: The Next Chapter; but for decades, young readers have devoured the stories of their favorite American Girls in history which balance nostalgia with actual hardship. Recently, American Girl series author Valerie Tripp was interviewed on CBS Sunday Morning about how she approached writing about war, poverty, injustice, disability, and child labor for eight-year-old girls. She was asked how she decided what was appropriate, and her answer stuck with me:

“The way you do it is that you do not shy away from even the ugly truths. You reassure your child reader that the world is safe and she is loved… but you don’t shy away from saying really difficult things have happened and really difficult things continue to happen to children. You’re telling your readers that girls in the past suffered and they made it through okay - and so will you. It’s a reassuring note of hope and empowerment.”

Now, as someone who reads children’s literature every day, I’ve noticed a shift from the books I used to read. I love any book that gets kids reading—truly. I think Dogman and Dav Pilkey are the gateway drug to get books in a lot of reader’s hands. There’s absolutely a place for humor, illustrations, and lighthearted stories… but it sometimes feels like we don’t trust kids with harder topics anymore and a lot of books targeted to young readers now lean heavily on simple plots, bathroom jokes, and quick entertainment.

I don’t mean to sound like “back in my day…” but - back in my day - kids also read classic books that asked something of them emotionally! I recently reread The Secret Garden, where grief and beauty exist side by side. In A Little Princess, loss and imagination coexist. The Little House books taught resilience and strength. These stories didn’t protect children from sadness, they walked them through it.

And Charlotte’s Web — a book that often appears on elementary school banned lists because Charlotte’s death is considered too much for children. However this year, our community has walked through real loss and grief and it’s so clear that children are not strangers to love or to its absence. What books like Charlotte’s Web offer isn’t a lesson in how to endure loss alone, but a language for it - a way to sit with friendship, loyalty, and what it means to lose someone who mattered. Even when those moments feel unbearable, they are meant to be spoken aloud and carried together.

Reading these books help us practice what it means to carry grief, recognize longing, and practice empathy — which leads us to more fully understand joy, grace, redemption, and hope. And if it’s true for eight-year-olds, it’s true for us too: hard stories remind us that hardship exists, but so does endurance. And every once in a while if you need to read a little Dogman + The Weenie Wars along the way, that’s okay too!

as this school year comes to an end (thank God) but as the anticipation (and lowkey fear/anxiety of the unknown?) for summer begins to hit, may we cling to this prayer from julian of norwich as she prays, “all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.”

the content plate (on a diet)! what i read and watched in april 2026✨

the nba finals and my uptake in hours logged on espn (gsg) makes for not a big month for the content plate but scroll to see the tidbits - including on off brand show (for me) that I actually really enjoyed!

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• Throughout Scripture, we see stories of longing where people’s pain is not minimized, but described in detail and taken seriously.

• Throughout Scripture, we see the character of God and that in His perfect wisdom, He is gracious, and as a loving Father, He gives what is truly good according to His will.

This week, I was reading the story of Hannah in 1 Samuel. Hannah was unable to have children - something that felt outside of her control, but ultimately under the Lord’s sovereign hand. Yet, she had to watch as her husband’s other wife, Peninnah, bore many children. Peninnah provoked her, even during times of worship. Hannah was repeatedly and publicly reminded of what she lacked even in settings that were meant to be sacred and communal.

With all consuming grief, she asks the Lord to remember her — which apparently has become a theme word for this year as I also wrote about the Lord remembering here and here! Eventually, her circumstances do change - BUT it’s important to notice that Scripture gives more space to her anguish and her prayer than to the resolution.

The point isn’t simply that she received what she asked for because she prayed hard. It’s that her pain was seen, expressed, and brought into relationship with God. She trusted that He lifts up those who are low and has the power to reverse what seems fixed. She had faith that even in the darkness, the Lord saw her and would remember her in His perfect timing. Her story ultimately points to a broader hope: that God sees and takes the pain seriously, in His perfect wisdom, governs and responds according to His will.

A few things I’m reminding myself of this week:

• Waiting is a central experience in Scripture. Faithful people often live through long stretches of unmet desire, under the hand of a sovereign God.

• Even when the world defines you by what you lack, your identity is not determined by your circumstances, but by the God who knows you and calls you His.

• You are not outside of faith because you are still hurting. Grief belongs in the presence of God - we are invited to come honestly, repeatedly, and fully before Him.

• We can watch for evidences of His grace, trusting that He is at work in every circumstance.

• Something I’m trying to remember, more than anything, is to have gratitude because that what I take for granted is the heavy hearted prayer of another.

The Lord has been kind to me in so many ways. Even as I grieve and walk a road I didn’t expect, His goodness has not departed from me. And I’m thankful that even when my faith feels unsteady, His faithfulness never wavers.

walk into this new week with God’s grace, peace and power. know that He has a purpose and plan for you and that you are wholly and deeply loved.

xoxo always,

paige

Every time I begin to think, “Maybe this is it! Maybe the thing I’ve been praying for is finally coming,” it closes. Not just one door, but another, and another. Nevertheless Holy Week always has a way of correcting my vision and to trust God who holds ALL things in His sovereign care.

Speaking of being behind closed doors… this week, I’ve been obsessed with the new PBS version of The Count of Monte Cristo.

If like me you haven’t read it since High School, let me remind you that in the novel Edmond Dantès is imprisoned for a crime he didn’t commit. He’s held in the fortress prison of the Château d’If with only silence and stone walls for over a decade.

And yet, despite how STUCK he is, the course of his life is quietly redirected. What looks like an ending becomes, in time, the beginning of something he could not have imagined. Years later, when he finally (spoiler alert) escapes, his story is still marked by loss and grief. It’s only at the end of the novel that he can say that he has learned to “wait and hope. That human timing is not ultimate; that suffering is not without purpose.

As Christians, we don’t wait on fate but on a faithful, covenant-keeping God. Not a distant force, but a Father who “works all things according to the counsel of His will” (Ephesians 1:11). Even the doors that seem closed are not random; they are governed by His wise and holy providence.

From the disciples perspective, Good Friday must have felt like a door slamming shut. It must have felt like everything they trusted had collapsed. They had left everything to follow Jesus. They believed He was the promised Messiah that would save them and now He’s arrested, crucified, and dead.

On that day, they did not yet understand what we now confess: that the cross was not defeat, but victory. Not the failure of God’s plan, but its very fulfillment. The very moment that seemed most dark, senseless, and closed was an integral part in God’s plan of redemption. This was no contingency plan. Christ was “delivered up according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God” (Acts 2:23). Even that darkest hour was governed by divine purpose.

So in that moment when all felt lost, in that space between Friday and Sunday, we must remember that God often does His deepest work where we can least perceive it. The kingdom advances not by what we can control, but by what He has ordained.

Each day this week I have reminded myself that closed doors are not signs of God’s absence nor of His indifference. They are often the very means by which He shepherds His people - redirecting and refining us according to His will. If God is willing to endure the ultimate cost of sacrificing His son for our redemption, then it is true that every trial we face is under His careful, loving authority.

Because if the cross teaches us anything, it’s this… what looks like the end is often the place where God is most powerfully at work.

in these weary days of lent, may you trust that even when you feel alone, the Lord has not abandoned you. may you trust that even when your faith falters, the Lord will be faithful to you. and most deeply, may you believe that god will not leave you in a place of despair. cling to the hope of the mystery of faith -- christ has died, christ has risen, christ will come again. for now, let that be enough.

the content plate! what i read and watched in march 2026✨

to all the girls i’ve hooked on to summer house in the past few years YOU’RE WELCOME because now you get to participate in the year’s most crazy pop culture moment that is westmandoval! and all the memes that go with it!

scroll more for what i’m watching and reading because you better believe my finger is on the PULSE (she says while watching shows on PBS lol)

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She often wrote about suffering, patience, and surrender, emphasizing that hardship can shape character and deepen trust in God. She encouraged believers to accept difficult circumstances with faith, viewing them not as meaningless pain but as part of a larger purpose. Her reflections continue to resonate with readers who are navigating loss, uncertainty, or waiting.

This past week I have been praying this prayer, commonly attributed to her:

Loving Lord and heavenly Father, I offer up today all that I am, all that I have, all that I do, and all that I suffer, to be Yours today and Yours forever. Give me grace, Lord, to do all that I know of Your holy will. Purify my heart, sanctify my thinking, correct my desires. Teach me, in all of today’s work and trouble and joy, to respond with honest praise, simple trust, and instant obedience, that my life may be in truth a living sacrifice, by the power of Your Holy Spirit and in the name of Your Son Jesus Christ, my Master and my all. Amen.

walk into this new week with God’s grace, peace and power. know that He has a purpose and plan for you and that you are wholly and deeply loved.

xoxo always,

paige

I’m currently taking a class at church walking through the events of Holy Week, and one comment my pastor made has stayed with me all week.

We’ve heard the account of Jesus cleansing the temple - when He overturns the tables of the money changers (Matthew 21; Mark 11). It’s often preached as a moment of righteous anger against corruption in worship. And it certainly is that. But there’s another layer to it.

In college I studied the layout of the temple in my Judaism classes, but somehow I never connected the physical structure of the temple with this moment in the Gospels.

The temple was intentionally designed with a series of courts that moved progressively inward toward the symbolic dwelling place of God.

At the center was the Holy of Holies, representing the very presence of God, where only the high priest could enter and only once a year on the Day of Atonement. Outside of that was the Holy Place, where the priests ministered. Beyond that was the Court of the Priests, where sacrifices were offered on the altar. Next came the Court of Israel, where Israelite men gathered in worship. Outside of that was the Court of Women, where Jewish women could worship.

And beyond all of these was the Court of the Gentiles.

From our modern perspective, it’s easy to look at that structure and assume that the Gentiles were pushed to the margins. But my pastor pointed out something I had never stopped to appreciate: the temple actually made intentional space for the Gentiles. Even within this covenantal relationship with Israel, there was still a place purposefully set aside for those who were not ethnically Jewish - a place where the nations could come near and seek the God of Israel!

When Jesus overturns the tables, He quotes the prophet Isaiah: “My house shall be called a house of prayer for all nations.” (Isaiah 56:7). In other words, Jesus is defending the very space meant for the Gentiles to approach God.

So what we see in Holy Week is not a sudden expansion of God’s plan, but its fulfillment. The temple itself had already hinted that the nations would come, and in Christ, that invitation is thrown open even wider. In fact, Jesus does more than simply defend the temple’s purpose. He ultimately replaces it with Himself! Throughout the New Testament we see that Christ himself becomes the true temple, the place where God and humanity meet. And through union with Christ, the church becomes the dwelling place of God by the Spirit. Access to God is no longer mediated by courts, boundaries, or ethnic identity, but by the finished work of Christ alone!

In one of the most dramatic moments of Holy Week - just days before His crucifixion - Jesus was doing something profoundly covenantal. He was clearing space for the nations. By grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone - we have been brought into the presence of God - AMEN!

may march bring rest. may this lenten season reveal truth and bring us to experience the deep love of christ. may we see that God is present in every detail, He is calling us for something higher, and that He loves us beyond measure.

the content plate! what i read and watched in february 2026✨

you know i love pop culturally relevant tv more than most… but my hottest take is the pitt is the most overrated show on tv. yall never watched ER and it shows!

scroll for more hot takes on the shows and books i loved and loathed this month!

what i’ve been watching!

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“Oh that you would hide me in Sheol, that you would conceal me until your wrath be past, that you would appoint me a set time, and remember me!” — Job 14:13

At this point, Job is in the deep pits of despair. He’s lost his children, wealth, health and dignity. It feels as if God has gone silent and yet Job pleads. He still sees God as the one who protects, even while he feels crushed by Him. And then comes the emotional center of the verse: “appoint a set time and remember me.”

For those that read last month’s shortie (except let’s be real they’re long-ies lately) we are mindful that in Scripture to remember means to act, to restore, to show covenant faithfulness. Job is asking for future redemption even if he can’t imagine how it works yet. He is asking for his suffering not to be the end of the story.

Job doesn’t possess a fully formed theology of resurrection, but he reaches toward the idea of God setting a time and returning. That arc - hidden, waiting, remembered - will later become central to biblical resurrection hope.

When God finally answers Job, He does not explain Satan’s challenge. He does not offer any answer. Instead, He reveals Himself with a question: “Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?” Job had begun to measure God’s care by the scale of his pain and God reminds him that divine providence is bigger than the galaxies.

This verse, and the Holy Spirit’s nudges, have opened up my eyes more not only to God’s remembrance but also to viewing being hidden as shelter.

Seasons of waiting and feeling hidden often feel painful because it feels like being unseen on purpose. But in Scripture, God sometimes hides His people (Moses, Elijah, Jesus!) not because He is done with them, but because He is still working beyond what they can see.

We believe that the God who remembers does not misplace His people. He keeps His covenant. And in His timing He reveals what He has been sustaining all along.

walk into this new week with God’s grace, peace and power. know that He has a purpose and plan for you and that you are wholly and deeply loved.

xoxo always,

paige

There’s something electric about these early moments. We don’t yet know what the defining scenes of these Olympics will be. What meme will take the internet by storm? What stories will tug at our heartstrings? Who will become a household name and, perhaps most importantly, who’s on the fast track for the next season of Dancing With the Stars?

Right now, it’s all expectation. In a few weeks, we’ll have answers. But in this moment, anything is possible. We’re standing at a threshold. A threshold is the point where something quietly but definitively shifts from one state into another. It’s the line you cross between what was and what comes next.

For better or worse, I’ve always put a lot of pressure on January to be a threshold. Maybe it’s because my birthday is in January… a double whammy: a new calendar year and a new year of life. I want January to mark a clear beginning, a moment I can look back on and say, this is where everything started to change. But more often than not, there isn’t a dramatic shift. Lately, it’s felt like I’m living less on a threshold and more in the middle of the meantime, an interim.

John O’Donohue writes about interim time and compares it to the minutes after sunset. As the light fades, “even the trees seem groundless,” he says. Life sometimes feels like this too, when clarity is withheld and everything is suspended. The in-between can be disorienting, especially when it stretches longer than expected.

Just as the early Olympic moments are filled with possibility, our own thresholds invite us to step forward with anticipation and trust. I deeply believe God exists in the not-yet, and that these waiting periods are profoundly significant. Scripture shows us that God often sets aside time, or a person, for pause and preparation. The liturgical calendar reflects this pattern, offering seasons of waiting, reflection, and anticipation. Lent, which begins just weeks from now, is one such season.

Ash Wednesday marks the start of Lent - not with celebration, explanation, or reassurance, but with a pause. It is a time to fast, to set things aside, and to enter into quiet reflection, unsure of exactly how the next forty days will unfold, yet trusting that it will end in the joyful turn of Easter.

This is the mystery of faith. As we wait for Christ’s return, we stand on a threshold between the kingdom that has already come in Christ and the fullness that is still to be revealed. We proclaim: Christ has died, Christ has risen, and Christ will come again. We are not fully in the past, nor fully in the promised future. It is right here, on this threshold, that we trust God holds the way forward - inviting us to step boldly, live faithfully, and bear witness to the hope He has promised.

May you be filled with peace as you wait in expectation, trusting that even the quietest moments hold deep significance. As you stand at the threshold of what’s to come, may you move forward with hope, knowing that God is faithful in every season, and His promises are sure.

the content plate! what i read and watched in january 2026✨

someone cue the round table music! what a month for appointment tv! what a month for the content plate! scroll for books + shows i liked, loved, and loathed!

what i’ve been watching!

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In Genesis Chapter 30, during all of the Rachel + Leah drama (or as I like to call them, The Real Housewives of Paddan Aram)... we read in Chapter 30:22 “Then God remembered Rachel; He listened to her and enabled her to conceive.” This short, seemingly throw-away verse, is the answered prayer, fulfilled longing, and realized hope of all that Rachel had waited for in her life - and it hits me so deeply.

I checked various translations and nearly all of them used the phrase “Then God remembered Rachel.” Some translations add nuance: “Then God remembered Rachel’s plight” (NLT), or “Then God took note of Rachel” (NET). I also looked into the Hebrew word zakar (זְכֹּ֥ר), which is used in key moments throughout scripture, such as when “God remembered Noah” after the flood (Genesis 8:1) and in the Noahic covenant with “I will remember my covenant” (Gen 9:15).

This concept of God remembering, feels so intimate. But, it also creates a tension with our theological understanding — does this mean an omniscient God can forget?

Call a rabbi, time to beit midrash!

I think the number one way that the enemy tries to distract me is by leading me to wonder if God has forgotten about me. Maybe all of this is linked to a deeper theological question of “Does God ever forget about me?” or “Is there ever a point when we are not on God’s mind?”

But honestly, I believe the answer is no. God never forgets us. The Bible is full of promises of His constant presence, His never-failing love, and His attentiveness to our lives. Scripture attests to His faithfulness, both to the covenant He made with His people and to His individual care for each of us. From Genesis to Revelation, God’s faithfulness is repeatedly emphasized. He is a God who remembers His promises.

One of my teachers described this language of remembering as having more to do with acknowledgement than with cognitive recall or memory. It’s like when someone remembers your birthday. It’s a personal act of connection. It’s not that they forget the other 364 days that you were born — but they acknowledge you on this occasion and make a point of special attention. It’s level of knowledge but more so an act of design with care and attention. God’s remembering is not a reaction to our circumstances. God is celebrating the purpose of His will and His plan for our lives at just the right time (even if the timing doesn’t make sense to us).

So this I’m holding to be true, God is a personal, sovereign God, and Genesis 30:22 confirms that He doesn’t just remember you vaguely. God remembered Rachel. God remembers you by name. He acknowledges and knows you. This year may we cling to the truth that the God of the universe remembers us.

walk into this new week with God’s grace, peace and power. know that He has a purpose and plan for you and that you are wholly and deeply loved.

xoxo always,

paige

For example, I was totally captured the first time I heard the line where Tolkien writes that Sam, “knew all the arguments of despair and would not listen to them.”

Tolkien refers to this as “a hope without guarantees.” It is a hope that does not collapse in the face of despair, that stands firm before a lost cause, that defies darkness even when the powers of hell are doing their worst. It is a hope that persists without certainty of success.

Over this past year, I’ve been walking closely with a friend enduring chronic illness and extreme, daily pain. There is no guarantee of her healing. When you accompany someone in that kind of suffering, you quickly discover how inadequate most of our language feels. Silver linings feel empty. Even prayers can feel fragile. And so what we are left with is hope - not the hope that things will necessarily get better, but the hope that God is present, even here.

On December 23rd, we had a healing service for her at my church. We prayed boldly. We begged God to heal her. We anointed with oil. We sang hymns. And we also knew that even though God could completely heal her in this moment, that her healing might not come in the way we longed for or in the timeline we desire. The service did not erase her pain. But it made room for the presence of the Holy Spirit. It made room for hope that knows all the arguments of despair and will not listen to them.

I confess that a lot of times, I operate in a cause-and-effect confidence of “if I do the right things the good outcome will eventually arrive.” But there is danger in this kind of false certainty because sometimes our “not yet” never comes. Biblical hope, on the other hand, is the expectation of a better future even when our desired outcome is uncertain or unlikely. It is a hope that can seem entombed by death and defeat, and yet still triumph afterward with Resurrection and Life. The Gospel anchors our hope in the finished work of Jesus Christ: a redemption accomplished once and for all, secured not by our faithfulness, but by God’s sovereign grace.

As we begin a New Year, may we hold tight to the daily practice of hope. May we commit to the act of blessing. That’s why I always write a benediction at the end of my emails to you. It is a discipline of hope. It’s my way of saying: May God meet you in the life you are actually living. A blessing doesn’t promise less suffering - but it names it and then entrusts it to God.

So let us not lose heart. May we rejoice in hope. May we trust that God is capable of doing what we cannot. For He builds His Church with the rubble of sinners and somehow makes it a temple. May we trust that God will never abandon us, that He will work all things - even our defeat - together for our good. And one day, He will return and remake this world into something new - far more beautiful and wonderful than we can possibly imagine.

xoxo always,

paige

✨ new years reads from days of yore

✨the content plate! what i read and watched in december 2025✨

the content plate has been on a bit of a diet as of late but still i rise! scroll below for a hodge podge of books and shows and movies i loved, liked, and loathed!

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There is, however, one Western series that is allowed not only year-round, but especially in December: the Little House on the Prairie books. Growing up, I had a box set with gingham-checked borders, and I spent more time than I’d like to admit organizing them by gingham color. I loved the books - and the show - and recently reread parts of the series during a power outage, which felt fitting, reading by candlelight.

As a young girl who dressed up as a pioneer for Halloween - not once, but twice - I was deeply fascinated by life on the prairie. I was captivated by the Ingalls’ resourcefulness, discipline, and resilience.

One detail that has always stayed with me is how Ma made soup from bones. In the sixth book, The Long Winter, food is painfully scarce. Ma stretches what little they have by boiling bones into broth, creating nourishment from nothing. Making bone broth, in its essence, is the act of turning scraps into sustenance. And that, at its core, is the story of God. The story of redemption. Throughout Scripture, God makes water spring from rocks, brings life out of death, and calls dry bones to rise again.

This fall, I have walked closely with people carrying deep grief, chronic pain, undiagnosed illness, loneliness, and profound sadness. This fall has felt like a valley of dry bones. And yet, in His goodness, the Lord keeps showing me (quietly, patiently, and sometimes after long periods of silence) that in His timing He repairs and redeems. He takes what feels lost or hopeless and turns it into something new for His glory.

As we participate in these final days of Advent, we trust that God is already at work. Even when all we see are bones in a pot, we can boldly claim the truth that the angel Gabriel said to Mary: “For nothing is impossible with God.” Advent reminds us that God in His kindness, will create something Holy where we least expect it.

May the LORD train our eyes and hearts to notice the small mercies by which He whispers: I am already at work. As we keep watch, may the steady grace of Christ make us faithful in our waiting and courageous in our hope. Dear one, may you walk into these days with the peace of our Coming King, whose arrival is certain. For unto us a child is born - and beloved, He will come again!

let’s look back!! here are some of my favorites from 2025! thanks for scrolling with me!! xoxo always paige

I spent about three weeks soaking in the “peace” chapters and, admittedly, skimming many of the “war” ones, but somewhere along the way, I developed genuine attachment to these characters:

Pierre — philosophical idealist, big softie, richy rich by inheritance
Andrei — broody, emotionally distant, and (in my mind’s eye) extremely handsome
Natasha — impulsive, naive, and sorry but a little annoying
Marya — resilient, devout, steadfast, and my personal MVP

As their stories unfold, Tolstoy keeps returning to this idea that ~inner peace~ is something entirely different from political or circumstantial peace. The characters are emotionally, morally, and spiritually fragmented and each is searching for a deeper sense of wholeness. They each long for something they can’t fully articulate, yet deeply desire.

It was halfway through the novel that I realized, somewhat unexpectedly, that War and Peace was a perfect book to read right before Advent. The novel, in its vast scope, repeatedly places its characters in the in-between: waiting, hoping, and growing in the midst of uncertainty and unrest. Advent, too, is a season defined by hopeful waiting. Dietrich Bonhoeffer once wrote, “Waiting is an art that our impatient age has forgotten… [but] for the greatest, most profound, tenderest things in the world, we must wait.” Advent invites us to reclaim that art. It reminds us that waiting is a holy act, that hope requires discipline, and that we can acknowledge absence while still trusting in what is coming.

The Lord is continually teaching me (whether I want to or not) about living in the space between promise and fulfillment. And what I know to be true is this: our waiting is never the result of divine neglect. God, abounding in steadfast love, leaves His fingerprints of faithfulness everywhere and continually reveals that He deeply longs to meet us.

Unlike Tolstoy’s characters who search for wholeness amid chaos, may our hearts be deeply rooted in the mystery of faith: Christ has died, Christ has risen, Christ will come again. Our longing, our hope, our perseverance - all find their anchor in God’s covenant and the finished work of Christ.

May the LORD train our eyes and hearts to notice the small mercies by which He whispers: I am already at work. In the stillness between promise and fulfillment, may we become a people who lean into mystery with deep trust. May every quiet hope and hidden sorrow bring us closer to the Lord. And as we keep watch, may the steady grace of Christ make us faithful in our waiting and courageous in our hope. Dear one, may you walk into these weeks with the peace of our Coming King, whose arrival is certain. For unto us a child is born - and beloved, He will come again!

✨the 2025 content plate runneth over! ✨

move over spotify wrapped - the real year end list is here! my favorite things i watched and read in 2025!

xoxo always,

paige

The first was that she would grab my name badge and ask, “What’s your name?” Now, she knew my name. In fact, she knew my full name, my birthday, and even the last four digits of my social security number that I type into the door keypad. But still, she asked every day, all day.

Her second question was, “Are you my mom?” She knew I wasn’t her mom. She’s smart. She knew I was her teacher. But she would still ask. Sometimes she’d ask, and then within minutes ask again. After a week or so, when I had run out of creative responses and wondered if this would ever stop, I reached out to her mom (who is amazing!!). Her mom explained that these questions were her daughter’s way of connecting - her way of starting a conversation. Instead of saying “hi,” she asked my name. And by asking if I was her mom, she was reassuring herself that while she was at school, I would take care of her.

Recently, I realized that I do the same thing with God. I come to Him again and again with all sorts of questions, but underneath them all are really the same two questions my student asked me thousands of times: What is your name? and Are you going to take care of me?

I find myself constantly asking God: Are You someone I can trust? Do You have a plan for me? Can You show me again? I need continual reassurance that the disappointments and pain I face are not signs that God has rejected, ignored, or forgotten me.

Tim Keller wrote that when we have questions and no clear answers, we can look to the cross and know at least what the answer isn’t. When we look at the fact that God sent His only Son to die in our place, we know that the answer to our suffering or confusion can never be because God doesn’t love us.

When we see Jesus on the cross, we see the fullness of God. There is no shadow side to Him; no deception, no darkness. The God we pray to, the God we question, loves us endlessly, patiently, and powerfully. And in the meantime, He allows us to ask Him questions. He knows we need to ask. Through prayer, fellowship, and Scripture we learn - and re-learn - His name. We internalize His character. We remind ourselves why we can trust His love.

And one day, we will ask our questions to the Lord face to face and finally know, with absolute certainty, the unchanging reality of His love.

This year, I see my sweet student - now a big second grader - in the hallway every afternoon. Now every time instead of asking my name, she shouts it: “MISS PERRY!!! YOU WERE MY FIRST GRADE TEACHER!! I LOVE YOU!!” And I pray that my faith is strong enough for me to do the same with God: to see His face, shout His name, proclaim all the ways He has cared for me, and scream, with joy, that I love Him.

walk into this new week with God’s grace, peace and power. Know that He has a purpose and plan for you and that you are wholly and deeply loved.

xoxo always,

paige

Every morning I’ve been praying the Prayer of Metropolitan Philaret: Lord, give me the strength to greet the coming day in peace. Help me in all things to rely on Your holy will. Reveal Your will to me every hour of the day. Bless my dealings with all people. Teach me to treat all people who come to me throughout the day with peace of soul and with firm conviction that Your will governs all. In all my deeds and words guide my thoughts and feelings. In unexpected events, let me not forget that all are sent by you. Teach me to act firmly and wisely, without embittering and embarrassing others. Give me the physical strength to bear the labors of this day. Direct my will, teach me to pray, pray in me. Amen.

In the night, I repeat the words of the evening prayer from the Episcopalian Book of Common Prayer: Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work, or watch, or weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who sleep. Tend the sick, Lord Christ; give rest to the weary, bless the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the joyous; and all for your love’s sake. Amen.

These last few weeks, no scripture has felt more comforting than Romans 8:26-27: In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. And He who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God.

And somehow that is enough.

xoxo always,

paige

Another book I’ve loved, Hamnet by Maggie O’Farrell, came out in March 2020. A story about the loss of Shakespeare’s son and the shadow of the bubonic plague was released during the early weeks of the COVID-19 global pandemic. Not exactly what O’Farrell planned. But again, somehow, the timing made the story hit harder. The novel holds space for grief, for the complicated ache of mourning a child, and for the way a community’s response can either deepen the wound or begin to heal it.

By every standard of marketing or momentum, these books had terrible timing. And yet there’s something unmistakably providential about their release. As though the timing wasn’t random at all. As though the world was being prepared to receive them with hearts cracked wide open.

It reminds me of Genesis 28:16, “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it.”

These are Jacob’s words, spoken as he wakes from a dream of a ladder stretching from earth to heaven. In that moment, he realizes something astonishing: the ground beneath him, the ordinary dirt where he had laid his head, was sacred. God had been there all along. He just hadn’t seen it.

We look for God in the obvious places: in worship, in beauty, in clarity. But Scripture reveals a God who often meets us where we least expect Him: in the eye of the storm, before oppressive kings, in the wilderness, among the forgotten, at the death of His friends, and ultimately, on the cross.

His presence is in places we thought He had forgotten. The release of a book into a world for which it was unknowingly written. The release of tears we’ve kept hidden. The release of our tight grasp on trying to understand God’s timing.

We often want clarity, but He offers something deeper - wisdom wrapped in mystery. We ache for immediacy, but He moves with eternity in mind. What looks like silence may be mercy. What feels like delay may be protection. What we call withholding may in fact be the kindest kind of giving because it’s shaped by a vision we cannot see.

So hold on, dear one. With trembling hands and honest prayers, we hold on because Emmanuel means God with us not just in the resolution, but in the wrestling. Not just in the release, but in the waiting. And that’s what I want to trust: not that I will always understand His timing, but that He does. That the God who sees the whole story is still writing mine, and His timing, though often hidden, is not random or careless. It is always guided by His glory.

walk into this new week with God’s grace, peace and power. Know that He has a purpose and plan for you and that you are wholly and deeply loved.

xoxo always,

paige