Grief Filled Grace

My entrance into motherhood was anything but pretty. It shattered every elegant notion and bliss-filled fantasy that I had held onto in my 9 months of waiting. I don’t know why I was shocked when reality came crashing down… my wedding experience was no different.

This is how God has refined me time and time again; in the shattering of my perfect laid plans that my mess has become my message – where God has humbled me, stripped me raw and taught me grace, compassion and love for others, as well as myself.

I had been praying for the last year that he would heal me from the things that still held me hostage after years of trying everything [in my strength] to fix myself and for the first time in my entire life I believed he would, with every fibre of my being.

And a strange knowing told me motherhood would be the beginning of that journey.


It started with my pregnancy roller coaster: the inability to control my every changing body, not being able to run or workout past 12 weeks, facing my fear of food to discover it as fuel, and weeks of tests and complications that had no answers. All the while I felt alone, like I didn’t know who to trust or turn to for answers. Was there a right one?!

I was slowly accepting the reality that only God knew. As much as the doctors could tell me one thing, God was ultimately in control of this pregnancy.. of my hearts condition … of my healing journey.

My delivery was point 2 seconds in before my birth plan got ripped to smithereens and as I grieved my loss of control there [like I had any in the first place over this!] God began a work in my heart preparing me for the trauma of what was ahead.

Labour and Delivery

I never dreamed I’ve be hooked up to IV’s, summoned to a bed and without [any] food or drink for nearly 48 hours. I never dreamed I’d hear the words “undiagnosed pre-eclampsia. You might want to call your family. ” or that a weeks recovery in the hospital would be just the beginning; that my daughter would spend that same duration in intensive care, subjected to test after test asking a “why” that still isn’t answered. That I’d blame myself or that this would open the flood gates of grieving the loss of my 6 month old brother when I was 6 years old- a pain I’d never been able to touch.

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I feared every day that my daughter would die. That God would take her from me and I’d be a heap of nothing on the floor forever….

And while anxiety surged hourly panic attacks through my veins and my fear bore witness to a woman unrecognizable to those who love me most, it brought about a vulnerability I’d never dared let anyone see- not my husband, my family or even God. It ushered in conversations I’d played out in my head for years, confessions of anger and frustrations and most beautifully, the asking of forgiveness for the ways I’d judged, blamed and harboured resentment for years- some my entire life.

And it was there, in the midst of my ugly brokeness, that my healing began. That I came to the end of myself and finally took Gods hand admitting defeat. And like a switch, my heart changed and I surrended. Fully surrendered to whatever God has planned for me.

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While I wish I could tell you things got easier from that point on, they didn’t and I’d go on to walk 8 weeks of darkness before the sun would shine again; the anxiety still plagued me, worry was my best friend, tears were my comfort and a quiet numbness kept the Kailey of yesteryear seem far far away. Yet God felt near and more real than ever before. I could feel his arms hug me, his palm cup my face and his whispers sing delight over me.

With every new dawn, I would extend a trembling open palm accepting each day as grace; every messy, unknown part of it.

And slowly but surely, my standing turned into walking and my walk into a run; my murmurs to grumbles, my grumbles to signing and signing to shouts of praise.

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A mere 3 months in, I still go back to that place when all feels hopeless and my weakness seems all consuming in this thing called motherhood. But Im learning what it truly means to lean on God, to know his strength rather than my own and to keep glued my eyes on him while everything else grows gravely dim.

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I’m settling into the passengers seat and for the first time, enjoying the ride.

Dear New Mommy in the Trenches

Dear New Mommy in the trenches.

I love you. Oh how I love you and know where you’re at.

I know how you’re so overwhelmed you don’t know where to start and how you’re knee deep in unchartered waters, hardly recognizing the woman in the mirror.

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But here’s the thing…

You’re not crazy and the array of emotions that seem never ending and uncontrollable are completely normal! Any normal person will feel insane with sleep deprivation and would hardly care about anything other than catching the next wink and making it through another day of  feed, play, sleep, repeat. And don’t panic when you can’t connect with any of the things that used to make you happy. This too shall pass!

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Yes, we all judged. We made assumptions and determined not to do this or that. But hear me when I lovingly say, we’ve all eaten crow and are humbled as we do everything we quietly scolded others for. We too dreamed of what kind of mom we’d be, but truth be told, you’ll likely throw every caution to the wind and be the mom you swore you’d never be.

Let go of expectations …of yourself and of your precious bundle; just ride the wave of everyday. Let come what may and let them guide the way. There’s no right way to hold them, to feed them or to soothe them. So don’t compare. You know your child best and your mommy instinct will kick in soon enough, if it hasn’t already! You’ll find it right there before you, the minute you tear up all the handbooks and burn your expectations. When you love the “don’ts” and revel in your weakness.

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You can cross check every mommy blog and harbour every opinion. But in the end its just you and them that need to be united. So stop googling long enough to be still for a moment, take note of your child, and ask yourself “what do I think they need?”  It’s like riding a bike. Sure you’ll get it wrong a few times, but after a while, you’ll start learning their cues and sounds, seeking a “Mommy well done!”

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Go ahead. Pat yourself on the back when you’ve found somewhat of a routine or identified the resemblance of a pattern, but don’t hold yourself hostage to it or get frustrated when the next day it dissipated. Because just when you think you’ve “got it” they’ll change, grow or have a fussy day. This doesn’t make you a bad mom! This too, is normal and there will come a time, when the change starts to slow down. For the time being, just lap it up… all of it. Every morsel of newness and unknown. Because hidden in the overwhelm and tiredness is beauty and joy so all consuming..

Hold them. Cuddle them. Rock them to sleep. Sleep with them. Don’t train them. Do whatever makes your mommy heart soar! This too, won’t break them and in mere weeks they’ll change their likes, yet again and by that time they may be too big to just lay on you. Plus, next time [if there is a next time] you’ll have a little running around, to steal your focus and sacred still moments. So saviour it, memorize it; every way their frame hugs your curvature.

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Savour the moments they’re awake. Play, laugh and study their every feature. This time is never wasted and soon they’ll be the minutes that pull you through. So sit, lay and lounge for hours. Know intimately lazy pajamma days that roll one into the other! Never again will you be able to do this, with zero expectations of you but to soak in your baby and harbour in your heart these new feelings of love, so overwhelming. And when those feelings of inadequacy creep in, tell them to stuff it where the sun dont shine.

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Its true. Little things will replace big things and accomplishments will consist of showers and days of no shed tears. But celebrate every first, regardless of how trivial or silly your old self would have scoffed at!

Take help. All the help you can get. From meals, to housework, to dog walks, feedings and everything in between. And don’t forget to take time for yourself. Ask someone to watch wee one so you can take a bath or enjoy a few extra ZZZ.

Eat, enjoy and thank your mommy body. Wear those scars and squishy spots with honour for they gave you lifes best gift. And as you look out the window and long to be “back at it,” know that day is coming and you’ll feel more grateful to be active and outdoors then ever before!

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You may feel disconnected in your marriage, even forget what you used to do and talk about for hours. You may long to return home just when you’ve been given the chance to date solo and wonder when those old feelings will return. But your marriage isn’t over and your flame isn’t broken. Time with soothe you back to a place where you’ll discover a new man, you’re even more in love with than before.

It may seem dark some days-  as if you’ll never feel like yourself again, but there is light at the end of the tunnel. There will come a day not so far away, just when you can’t take another day, that things will change. Your heart will shift and suddenly hope will bring forth light. In the mean time, hold onto the love, the smiles and the precious moments in between.

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And hold onto God, talk to him often and thought out the day, even if it’s mumbles or single pleaded prayers for help. Don’t feel guilty or scrutinize yourself if your faith looks different right now! No matter what they say or how they look at you, you are not back sliding! This new season will look different and you will crave things you may not have for years or cling to beasts you banished years ago, but it doesn’t make you a bad person. God is gentle with new mothers and he is SO PROUD of how you’re doing! Just think: the way you feel about your bundle of joy, he feels JUST THAT for you. I bet more!

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So when you feel all alone and like you’re the only one experiencing this chaos, imagine me right beside you whispering these words.. grabbing your hand, looking you in the eye and telling you joy comes in the morning.

Love you my friend and praying for strength, rest, recovery and love all consuming!

Dear Jennifer Lawrence | Pornography isn’t “Normal”

Pornography makes me want to rage against the machine – The machine of culture that tells us Porn is normal and should be accepted.


…. That it isn’t the cause of heartache, pain or the warped identity of so many women.

…..That it doesn’t form addictive and destructive paths of desensitization in the brain 

…. That it’s irrelevant to rape culture, the abortion rate, sexual abuse, human trafficking or child molestation 

…. Or responsible for the lack of intimacy, bonding in marriage, not to mention the high divorce rate. 

Because it is in so many ways. 
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Porn threatens to ruin the divine purposes and integrity of the gift of sex and all God intended for it to be; because at it’s root, porn leads the individual to bond to the act of pleasure fulfilment over the individual.

It becomes an idol and the man (or woman) is subconsciously seeking fulfilment of a physical need or want, over a desire for their spouse or to be intimate; a wanting of sex more than the person. And it takes a miracle of healing by the Lord to rewire this way of thinking.

The rampant (and fairly unacknowledged) addiction of our society to pornography  is something that has affected me deeply, both in my teen years and in my adult life. It has brought me to the feet of Jesus over an over, for both healing and forgiveness.

It’s led me to a place of fighting for the sexual integrity of our youth, through volunteering with local organizations that go into high schools and talk to teens about sex, their worth and the state of our cultures dangerous addiction to sex.

Dear Jennifer Lawrence | Porn

Reading this article, I felt the familiar flame of holy justice rise inside me.

It’s closing statements deserve to be written on every heart, billboard, social media wall and shared in every home.


“Never accept porn as a normal part of any relationship. It is harmful material that addicts the brain, damages relationships, and pushes warped perceptions about sex and intimacy into society.

You should never be expected to do anything for fear of a partner turning to porn or think its normal for them to do so.

Real love is sexy. Anything else is a counterfeit.


I pray today that whatever your experience with pornography- whether single, dating or married- that God would reveal his heart to you on this topic and that you would have the courage to respond.


Obeying Even When You Don’t Want to

I remember the day like it was yesterday…

I had spent hours fussing over my home ensuring it was just the right mix of clean, pampering, homey and presentable. I’d surprisingly won at baking the most labour intensive goodies I’d ever attempted. I had laid out everything for high tea worthy of my inner critic and most importantly, sat humbly for hours, begging him to simply show up and show off.

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My stomach turned with the biggest case of nervousness meets excitement.

Because to be honest, I didn’t want to do this! 

I’d never led a bible study and felt it perfectly humorous that he would even call me to do such a thing. Why? Because so many times in our lives, we try and call the qualified. But God alone qualifies the called and its undoubtably where the impossibilities of man leave room for possibilities only with God that he moves on it… and powerfully.

That evening,  in an effort obey what I felt God was calling me to, I opened my home to perfect strangers.

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Over the course of one year, my heart has been changed in ways my words will fail me.

As Abby shared last night,

“This past year, being a part of this group has wrecked me, challenged me, molded me, and reshaped me. I’ve never been more reliant on my faith, stronger in my convictions, more confident in my identity, or passionate in my devotion.”

He’s taught us what it looks like to live and love in community; something I am selfishly terrible at when it’s not convenient or it’s difficult.

…To accept both the person of today while simultaneously speaking over them in faith, the person God see for tomorrow.

…To humbly admonish and correct in love when necessary.

…To cheer on, pick up and have hope when another’s seems lost or broken.

…To speak truth, no matter how difficult and encourage each other to place God first and foremost in everything.

…To live outside our comfort zones and follow Jesus even when it’s hard.

…To give our lives away in time, money, talent and possessions.

…That our faith was meant for so much more than us, but for the lost and broken, the hurting and the scared.

We’ve wrestled together through the things that hold us back in bondage, walked hand and hand as we faced the things we idolize and chase in vain pursuit, bravely chose gratitude even when we didn’t want to and humbly submitted to marriages meant to make us Holy, not happy.

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He’s taught me what it means to lead by humility. To be genuine with struggles and honest with my weaknesses; being quick to confess and desperate for his presence.

Because, if I’m honest with myself, it wasn’t until this year that I learnt my greatest strengths are also my greatest weaknesses when it comes to living out my faith.

… a will that wants to lead, is a heart that longs for power.

While God’s given me gifts of leadership, he’s called me simply to be a vessel for him to live in, speak through and direct my steps. There is simply no room for me, my plans, my ways or my desires.

All I need is less of me and more of him. 

Over the past year, I’ve come to depend on not only our weekly gatherings, but on these women to not just show up but love me in return, even when it’s difficult and I’m completely undeserving. And to be able to say that, knowing in certainty they will do so, is the most beautiful and incredible gift from God.

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Today, I give thanks for the ways in which God has made himself incredibly real to our wee woman’s group and taught us how to flourish in community.


The most grateful and joyful of Happy 1st Birthdays to our Seeking Grace Women’s Group.


Ps: If you live in the Vancouver Lower mainland or surrounding areas and have felt the nudge to join a women’s group, we’d be thrilled to welcome you with open arms! More info and to Sign Up...

A season of symptoms

Things have been quieter than normal around here and all for good reason!

Fair Warning: This is an honest look into my past 4 months for those with intrigue and a love for “Too Much Info”….


May 2014

In a panick, I sprung from the dream declaring out loud that I was pregnant. I woke Dave.

“God told me I was pregnant in my dream.”

He looked at me half awake before rolling over back to sleep.

The next morning I asked him if he remembered. Gently he nodded yes but said nothing.

“I know. It’s sounds crazy doesn’t it.”


I’d been frantically trying everything for months to get my cycle back on track. Not only for the purpose of starting a family one day, but for my body’s own health. Fourteen years of being on birth control had left it’s marks on this a-type rule keeper.

I’d just started to get the hang of hiding the daily breakouts, when the acne threw a curve ball. To my back. Life a 13 year old boy who’d just hit pubertity.

I figured this was the last hurrah before the toxins were gone for good.

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June 2014

As wedding season unfolded, I couldn’t keep my wits about me. Depression seemed to loom and steal joy from every moment.

Ho hum. How I described myself most days.

I’ve never been the one to need something to cheer me up, simply revelling in life and counting daily ways he loves me.

But nothing felt good and everything seemed dark. My devotional time. Work I was usually passionate about. New projects on the horizon. Time with friends and family.

I was Ok once I got going, but in the stillness all was silent. Even Him.

I determined it was a season, one of testing and of waiting. Of obeying when I didn’t “feel it” and learning to wear faith through the trials.


Then rage beseeched me like a wild fire, running viciously through my bones. In the day and in my sleeping, I’d wrestle with my tounge. Heaven knows it wasn’t me. The world had just gone stupid!

For two weeks.

I couldn’t control the moods of furry.

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With family we talked of kids; the good, the bad and lovely. Of times these folks loved and cherished most when raising me and my sister.

From on the porch, she said it quick, I had to ask her to repeat.

“I knew it, Darlin’. I told your dad, when getting out the shower.”

“What?” I said

“That you’re pregnant! I Just knew it! I had a feeling…”

I hated to burst her bubble, almost wishing it were the case. But soft I told her she was mistaken and must have heard me wrong.


The text came in ’bout half past six from a girlfriend, sweet and loving.

“I hate to ask like this. I know it’s tacky, but I can’t help myself any longer. Are you pregnant?”

“Um. No. Not that I know of anyway. What made you think that?”

“I just had a feeling…”

That’s weird, I thought. Two in two days. Do they know something I don’t?

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If I could pack myself a basket of indulges they’d be sweet. Both creamy and chewing, salting and firmly crunchy.

Chips. Ice Cream. Candy. These are my guilty pleasure.

And for weeks I thoughts I’d found my swing, moderation and self control.

I hardly ever wanted them, instead I wanted food. “Real Food,” I’d say, like sandwiches and dinners.

For those who know me dearly, it’s rare of me to do. To skip the sweets for more main course and sing thanks to my dear taste buds.

But more of food was catching up. Bloated-ness to warn me. Slow down I thought and just be good. Eat clean from here on forward.

No trip to the gym or salad would due, the bump was just not leaving.


I’ve always been petite in all my female facets and rather fond of boyish frames.

I’ve never known the need for support or aching as I run.

But as I lifted weights and climbed the stairs to home, I found the need to take it slow and hold my top frame close.

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Guinness is our baby. Fur baby some may call.

He’s sweet and gentle, playful at times, but never rude or manly.

But come mid June, he’d start to dance and get wild when around me. And if I wasn’t careful he’s grab my legs to dance along with him.

This behaviour was strange.

What would cause a dog to dance? And only when he’s near me?


June 18th, 2014

Now let me make this clear. I wasn’t regular or we trying. But something in me said I should be 4 weeks in my cycle.

The days ran by with still no blood and my mind began to spin.

Could I be? Is it possible?

I went and looked back at my tracking. May 14th, 16th, 18th.
If all was good and half Ideal, I was fertile and we making sheet music.

And so I waited, with baited breath afraid to admit it to myself.


June 21st, 2014

I shared it with one girlfriend. I was beginning to really wonder. Could this be true, I’m not so sure. But maybe it’s time to consider?

Then in our bed, Dave shared it frank. He thinks I could just be. His patient is a doctor who affirmed my “season” was surely symptoms.

So I grabbed my girlfriend and drove to Target, to get the truth in box. We laughed and joked and paused in prep for disappointment also.

I didn’t want to own it, that I truly wanted YES. So off to work I prayed to God and fessed up with my feelings.

I’d heard the stories, so many times, of lost ones way to soon. Of mommy’s joy, ripped from the womb before the world knows. But with grace and sweet compassion he reminded me he’s good and can be trusted with this too; just know it’s all His will.

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Returning home, He grabbed the box and beckoned me to the bathroom. No time for pretty or talking first, he had to know right now.

My mind whirled and my heart beat fast.

This could just be the moment when our life would change for forever strong and baby would be coming.

I placed it on the window sill for him to check and see. And when he looked his eyes went big and he choked out simple words…

“well momma….”

The moments after muffle. I remember tears of joy and bouts of laughter sweet and strong for hours long and after.


Because sometimes, right in the middle of an ordinary life, God gives us a miracle…

Welcoming Baby Veenstra Spring 2015



He Touched and She was Healed

He touched her hand and the fever left her; and she she got up and began to wait on him. – Matthew 8:15

Jesus has authority over all evil that is a result of this fallen world. He speaks a word, he gives a touch and people are healed; made new and restored to wholeness. He does this to glorify God.

At the time of this story, the Bible tells us that Jesus healed this woman “to fulfill what what spoken through the prophets: He took up our infirmities and bore our diseases.” vs. 17

In todays world, Jesus blesses to gift us with a taste of what the whole world will one day experience in God’s kingdom. It’s a glimpse.

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When God chooses to heal us or bless us it is an unnecessary and willful act of love; a gift. Yes he loves us and yes he wants to see us happy, but first and foremost it is to glorify God and give testimony to his goodness and power.

It’s always been about God first and never about us. We are here to make manifest him!

His acts of love are not mandatory. They are a free gift lavished upon us in mercy and kindness. Our response then should be one of gratitude and debt.

How else would you respond to someone who gave you a gift of incredible value and selfless love?

Say your life for example. You were standing before a judge who had pronounced the death sentence for you and some man stood up and said he’d take your place. An exchange. His life for yours. The judge agrees and you go free….

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Too often, our response to God’s blessings is one of entitlement or expectation, like he owes us something for our “allegiance.”

Yes, we should expect God to answer our prayers, but it won’t always be in our time or our ways. While God loves us and desires for us to know and experience joy in this life, he ultimately wants to be the source of that joy- just him and his relationship – that isn’t dependent on circumstance.

His delight in us sure isn’t based on our performance (ha!) so why then, so often, is our devotion weighed on a scale of his ability to “bless us” and answer our prayers the way we’d have it?

Jesus is far more concerned with our hearts condition than with our comfort or circumstance. He wants to see us grow up and mature spiritually, moving beyond asking what God can do for us, to a place of asking what we can do for him.


Peter’s Mother-in-law, the women healed in Matthew 8, is a perfect example of how we should respond to Jesus, especially in times when we receive his touch; his blessings, his gifts.

To love and devote our lives in service.

Immediately, not after she did the things she needed to or after she got bored, immediately she got up and waited on him. She served Jesus.

She responded to his act with acts of her own that blessed him. She received his love and lavished it upon others in return.

These are the things he calls us to. This is the heart of God; Love and Service, all as an outpouring of gratitude in response for all thats been done for us… already.




So let me ask you. How have you responded to God in the past? How will you respond to him today? Right now? And with the vary gift of your life?


Pray with me:

Lord, Thank you for your love that you so graciously lavish upon me. Thank you for your desire to know me and be known by me.

Help me to respond to your love in a way that is worthy and honouring to you- to receive your blessings and love and respond with my life as an outpouring in thanks for all your are to me and all you’ve done for me. But not just for the now or the blessings of my current circumstance, but for what has already been done, accomplished and made available to me, through Jesus’ ultimately loving and selfless sacrifice on the cross.

Ignite in me a passionate desire to seek you, love you and serve you, devoting my life to the things of your heart. Fan in me your flame and may many come to know and experience your love for themselves, through me.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

When you’re Struggling to Care about What’s Happening in Iraq

The honest truth is, I felt numb to what their now calling a “Christian Genocide.”

I cannot even comprehend such suffering in my wrapped up pretty, over privileged North American Life. But while my mind can’t fathom the horror, my heart has less than stirred for my Christian Brothers and Sisters in Crisis. Why? I won’t go on a “cushioned life” tangent, but simply put, because I feel so far removed.


I’ve felt shame these past weeks; disgust with myself and the fact that my heart wasn’t breaking nor did I seem to really care. And so I kept quiet. Bound by the lies that I’m a joke of a Christian. That I don’t deserve to even call myself one. I’m a fraud. A sham.

…The perfect stomping grounds for the one who comes to lie, cheat, steal and destroy.

“Don’t even pretend you care by chiming in or share anything on social media! Don’t talk about it with others. That’s being a hypocrite!”

And so I didn’t. I’ve stayed quiet, for weeks; mute both inwardly and otwardly, afraid to even admit the truth to my Father.

I’ve watched from the sidelines as friends and mentors have shared updates, prayers and pleas for those suffering the unthinkable.

And then last night, God did what he always seems to resort to when this stubborn legalist can’t seem to remember what grace is.

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I stumbled upon a video. The man shook and cried,

“There are people dying and no one seems to care! There is no help. There is no aid. How can we simply stand back and watch a genocide occur?! Please do something. Anything that you can. Pray!”

He pleaded with the camera and within seconds I felt the two-by-four of power overcome me. The Holy Spirit moved me to pray, words I hadn’t dared to utter until now.

“Lord, I don’t care. I want to but I don’t! I feel so awful even admitting that to you, but worse, pretending that you don’t already know! If anything is going to change, it needs to be you. Oh please Lord, change my heart. Give me the capacity to love like you do and move in me, so that the things that break yours pierce mine.”

I sat back, felt nothing and waited.

Because that’s the thing with our Father. When we come to him in sincerety, when we’re honest and confess, he is faithful to forgive us and slap the guilt right gone from us. And when we pray, in the vine for his will, does he surely not listen and answer?! Of course.

… in his time and his ways.  So I simply waited, trusting that he would do in me, what only he could do.


This morning I woke to this article and knew it was my answered prayer:  5 Things we can do right now, that will ACTUALLY help our brothers and sisters.

As I read, my heart beat fast and I could hardly finish before starting to pray… before wanting to share the article… before jumping to speak up using the gift of words he’s given me.

My heart change!

Yes he is capable of far more than we can ever ask or imagine. What is impossible with man is possible with God… even when it comes to renovations of the heart!


So while I cringe writing this, afraid of what you might think of me – That you might look down on me and think I’m less of a person; Less of a Christian- deep down, I wonder …. if sharing my truth is freeing to even one person, bound by the same guilt that I’ve felt.

That somewhere, you’re looking for a nudge – the permission to confess your numbness and move beyond silence to taking a stand.

This is it. You’re not a bad Christian. You are not unworthy to speak or to pray. Go to your Father who loves you. Seek and you will find!


Praying with you, my friend, for hearts that desire to cry out for our Christian Brothers and Sisters.

Down the Narrow Path

Jesus tells us that the path to him is narrow and the gate, small… only a few will find it. [Matt. 7:14]


And yet on so many days, I fight the hard stuff and want desperately for my life to be comfortable and easy.

…For things to go back to the way they “used to be.”
…For life to magically jump back to a time with less responsibilities and more “freedom.” [Ha! Now that’s a joke, because in the years I’m dreaming of, I was bound by lies of shame, guilt, self hatred and an incessant pursuit of perfectionism that left me feeling unworthy and never good enough]

When I’m fighting the urge to run from my current circumstances, I find myself grasping for things of comfort:

….old TV shows I watched as a child or in an “easier” season of life.  Comfort
….The need to constantly be out and about being entertained or with people.  Distraction
….Feel good books or blogs that make me feel warm and fuzzy inside, like everything is going to be ok.  Peace

All counterfeit. All Worldly. 

And then I slowly start to notice the effects; my prayers become brief and my devotional time routine, like I’m frantic to “get them done” so I can hurry on to something else that’ll make me feel good. “Happy and light” for a moment.

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I run, to all the wrong places and things, seeking the vary things only HE can give me:

  • The strength and courage to keep going, even when I can’t see the light at the end of the season
  • Comfort that allows me to rest in him, right where I am
  • Peace that surpasses all understanding, reason and circumstance
  • Joy, to dance in the midst of the rain, instead of waiting for it to pass
  • Trust, that He knows me, loves me and has a plan for me
  • Surrender, to his will, his plans and his ways

My husband and I knew from the start of 2014 that this year was going to be one of change. Don’t ask us why, but somehow we knew. It seems that for every few years of “coasting,” he throws us a curve ball year of “change.” Or as I like to put it when I’m through the chaos and lessons… Seasons of Growth.


It’s in these years or seasons that I’ve done the most growing spirtually, personally and professionally. Because what the heart knows, the heart lives and out of the heart the mouth speaks.

And when love, true love, enters your heart, it can’t help but overflow into every area of your life.


In these hard seasons, I know that’s what He’s teaching me. He’s increasing my capacity to love deeper and to know him more.

But renovations of any kind are never easy, especially renovations of the heart! They might seem fun and exciting in the dreaming stage, but once your knees deep in the mess and chaos, it’s hard to see the end goal or even remember why you wanted to start this crazy project in the first place.

It’s in those moments, where I sit right now, that I’m reaching out and asking him to grab ahold of me. To pull me up on to the ledge of one covered piece of furniture, so I can see from his perspective how things will surely come together.

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Time, patience, hard work, persistence and faith in the process.

I hear him whisper…

The road is narrow and the gate small. But the rewards are perfect and worth it, dear child. Just wait.


When all you see, Is who you don’t wanna be

If I’m honest, I balled my eyes out watching this. Buckets.


I did’t expect to be knees deep in tears on a sunday morning…

Sure I’m hormonal but that’s hardly the point.

The reality is, I can fake it ’till I make it and I’ve been doing it since I was a child.


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In everything from my work, my dreams, my hobbies, my fears, to my battles and demons and the ugly in-between.

I can lie to the person in the mirror, when I hate everything it reflects. I speak truth over it – try and counter it with the mind- but does my heart know it to be true? No.

It doubts it.


Days will come when you don’t have the strength
And all you hear is you’re not worth anything
Wondering if you ever could be loved

Before you ever took a breath
Long before the world began
Of all the wonders He possessed
There was one more precious
Of all the earth and skies above
You’re the one He madly loves
Enough to die

You’re beautiful
In His eyes

-Beautiful | Mercy Me


More than how I demand perfection from myself,  I wage war with everyone else’s idea of perfect. Trying to be and please everyone but my Father, first.

Every under eye circle, every pimple, every wrinkle, every bloated tummy, every less than awesome outfit…. they taunt me.

Sure when I’m wrapped up pretty and “ready” for the day, I feel great and faking it comes easy. It’s the paint;  it masks my insecurity – how I’m truly feeling deep down inside.

Like it’s all a sham. It’s all a lie.

Because underneath, I hate what I see. When I unmask from the charade I pick myself apart and I will it to be different.

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I skald uniqueness, rather than treasure my sculptor’s signature on me.

I hide my flaws of character, rather than wear my story with pride.

I compete with every impossibility, rather than love where I’ve been blessed.


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And yet I know that I am made in his image. Every curve, every freckle, intentional and with purpose.


When I cry in despair, He weeps from my rejection.

When I damn my imperfections, he makes beauty from my ashes.

When I hide in self hate torment, he dances over me in heaven.


Lord, let me see me from your eyes. Remind me who I am.


In the mirror when all I see Is who I don’t wanna be

In the loneliest places when I cant remember what grace is

When I cant receive Your love afraid I’ll never be enough

If I’m Your beloved can You help me believe it

I’m the one You love and That will be enough.

-Remind me who I am | Jason Gray




She wore no Shame

As she frolicked through the woods with her two older siblings, fighting to keep up, she wore no shame.

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As she hiked up the trail in her big bowed headband and her pink tutu, she wore no shame.

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As she tried new adventures, fell and got back up again, she wore no shame.


As she wore her crown of femininity, she knew she was special, loved and perfectly lovely to her daddy.


As the played in the water, facing fears and getting tossed back by the waves, she wore no shame.

As she wiggled her little hiney, prancing in her swimsuit, she wore no shame.


As she cried for her daddy to come and comfort her in her sorrow, she wore no shame.

“Anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child, will never enter into it.” Mark 10:16

As I sat and watched her, I was mesmerized by intriqgue. When is it that we loose all sense of wonder…. in ourselves. In life. In everyone around us.

When is it that we start apologizing for who we are and hiding ourselves from the world?…. our bodies, our mistakes, our weaknesses, our dreams, our fears, our insecurities, our failures.

When is that we allow the lie of shame to cloak us from our innocence and steal the whimsy from our inner child. Are we not, even as adults, made in his image, forever a child in the eyes of our father and eternally in need of a saviour?

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With every new gift of whimsy my eyes bore witness to, I called out to my Father.

“Lord, Help me to be like this here wee one. Confident and free to simply be. Whole, innocent and joyful, full of whimsy and excitement. Let me run to you with reckless abondon, even in my pride and childish weakness. Let me trust you with my life, with my purpose and my heart. Amen”