broken wide Holy Spirit

It is in the dark that I hear him. A voice confident. Robust. Jocular even. He fills the room, his response to my simple question so immediate, it is without question He was there all along.

I leave off the lights so there is nothing else I see. I want my heart to see. I want my heart to hear. There it is–my spirit inviting my soul to wake: Wake up! Wake up!

I love that sound. A declaration of a soul awaking.  A warrior call to live, to not stay sleeping. It is my favorite sound.

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how to keep going when anxiety reels you in

I sit at the bedroom window watching wind whip branches of redwood. It is a flurry of wild green against gray, the clouds low and heavy. No, the air is anything but still. I don’t grab my bag and rush out into this day. The day doesn’t shout, go! Rather, it whispers, wait.  And I hear it speak to me so

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what happens on wide-open shore

We grasp hands and lean back, digging our toes as deep as we can into wet sand.

We are sure to topple over, I think. And I dig my toes in deeper, lock my knees, stabilize my legs. My daughter clings to me with the silliness and joy that gives her her nickname, “Golden Light.” And the waves crash against our legs and the sea water splashes into our open, smiling mouths. We stand side by side, heads back, delighted by our ability to not fall despite the surf’s resolute heaving of itself onto shore.

This is the best. I don’t want to miss it.

So I don’t take many photos, just a few. And then I put the camera and the phone away, tucking them into my running shoes near the sand castle we built higher up the beach.

To look and to see, to listen and to hear, I have to fight against every distraction, every obstacle threatening my awareness of love, joy, beauty. I struggle with the tension of wanting to remember moments like this–the moments I am aware of as holy, filled with love and God’s presence and glory. And it is my heart that needs to remember, needs to see, hear, be.

A phone, an Instagram feed, a Facebook post, a journal description–none of this can adequately capture what it is God is doing in us, this moment. This moment.

Wake up. Read More . . .

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Pursuing Wholeness in Silicon Valley, or Wherever You Live

“How are you doing? How is your heart?”

“I’m good. Not awesome.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

We check in over text, me and the friend I used to see face to face. The one who came from Colorado and went back again. The friend I didn’t know I needed. The friend who wants the best for me, who is candid and raw and sweet, who goes on walks in the rain and lets water splash full in her face.

I am in a coffeeshop, Justin in his black beanie by my side, watching rain drive sideways in sheets. The pavement is shiny black, and my boots are damp. People in raincoats or no coats at all jump out of cars pulled up to the curb, running in through the coffeeshop door, heads ducked down. It is glorious, the rain falling down.

A few days ago, Justin and I skyped with our mentors–an awesome husband and wife team. My friend connected us with this couple after she left. Through their words, their example, we feel God rescue us again. God uses people who are free. People who are able to offer wisdom because they not only know they are loved, but they know the battles we face in this world are not against flesh and blood. . . Read More . . .

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Lessons from a Photographer: Heaven & How To See

We got our family photos taken Saturday, the first time in nine years that we’ve smiled for a professional photographer. The kids had some funny idea that a photo session means wearing stiff clothes and going into a hall in the church and sitting in front of a green screen while people you’ve never seen before

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Race into Wide-Open Space

I am coming up for air and looking at wide-open space. That’s how it is when we run so hard and fast a race. Sometimes, we have to pause to see where we’ve ended up. And the journey there can make us feel a bit out of breath. So, I’m pausing, and listening, so I

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