Hard to believe I started writing here over a decade ago.
Seasons change and we change with them. We grow. We ebb and flow, and old words and worlds fall away.
Winter comes. Sometimes our stories need silence to become what they truly are.
Stories reduced down to truth lived out. Stories with skin made real in the seasons that leave stretch marks on our souls.
I don’t write to give answers. I write with the wild hope that sharing my journey might somehow become an invitation for you to embrace more of your own.
What ever that journey looks like. Wherever these words find you. However they encourage or challenge you. Take the ones that give you life. Leave the rest.
I’m not here to tell you what you should think or believe. I’m not here to convert you. Or to debate a million debatable things.
I’m here in the sacred hush between letters and lines to offer a space where your soul can breathe. A space to become.
I’m going to talk about faith. About finding it in unexpected places. Having it stretched and shredded and shattered. Then reframed and renewed and reinvigorated. All in ways I’d could never have imagined.
Jesus is central to my story. But not the neatly packaged, very white, GQ Jesus I saw in Sunday School books and films. Not the Jesus with a doctrine ruler sternly checking to see if I said the right words and measured up to the standards. Rather, my story is about the Jesus who has met me again and again in the middle of my deepest fear and pain. The Jesus whose eyes only held love. This Jesus who looks so different from many of the institutions that bear his name.
I know a fair amount about these institutions. Learning to navigate them was, at times, an occupational hazard. I worked and led in ministry settings for over 2 decades, on or between 3 continents. I saw wonderful things and met some of my dearest friends. But I also experienced a system whose shards desperately wound the very people it claims to serve.
It cost me deeply, but it also has made me who I am today. For that I am grateful.
But I am also profoundly grateful my journey has led me out of the settings I once worked within. I turned in my ordination, shuttered my faith-based nonprofit, and stepped into the unknown. This is the story of my undoing, and my becoming. This is the story of finding my voice, and the courage to use it.
In my day job, I work as a content strategist, creative director, and educator for creative entrepreneurs. I’m also an abstract artist, TBI survivor, expresso aficionado, and super-grateful poodle mom.
Whatever you believe, however you identify, wherever you are as you read these words, you are welcome here.