In a season of not-knowing, God shows up in the everyday: weekend joy, website tweaks, and a neighbor's simple act that calmed my overstimulated pup. Sometimes, the answer to "Who can I serve?" is first being served yourself.

I wrote a post yesterday that never made it out into the world, and maybe that is exactly how it was supposed to be. Today, I am smiling in the sun and looking forward to a busy weekend of baseball, concerts, and our little town’s First Friday After 5, which feels like a 90s‑style throwback to talking to neighbors and living life outside of our phones.

Sitting here in the quiet of an early afternoon, the work is done, the house is quiet, and I feel freer than I have in 30 years. Uncovering and rewriting the foundational scripts that held me back has opened space to dream again, try again, and maybe, finally, build the business I’ve always carried inside.

Lately, prayer has been heavy on my heart in a new way. This Easter Sunday, something the preacher said about praying on his knees sparked an “aha” moment that sent me straight to my own knees, and into a deeper season of prayer and surrender.

I keep sitting here tapping my fingers on the keyboard, hoping the words will flow out onto the screen, but it feels more like a blinking cursor.

Today we celebrated our friends’ wedding, and it was such a full‑hearted day. I am so glad I said yes a little over two years ago to a book club invite with a group of ladies I did not know.

Good Friday feels heavy in the best way, reminding me to slow down, rest, and remember the mercy and grace that carried me here.

I just finished People We Meet on Vacation, and it made me think about why I keep moving and traveling: to feel seen enough, but not too much. A vacation is not the answer, but maybe staying in one place long enough to be known is.

Tonight, this is enough: a quiet house, an open notebook, and a few honest sentences.

A thrift‑store book called From Fibre to Fabric reminded me to ask, “Who am I before the world told me who I should be?”

In 2011, I decided I was done living to impress other people. What started as a money crisis became a turning point toward living a smaller, more honest life.

II decided not to just imagine writing tonight. I pulled my computer back out after closing it, and while that is not my favorite thing to do, I am here to write.

Showing up when you are tired, when you are busy, when the words do not flow … that is the action that moves us forward.

Today I am choosing to stay on the page, to write through the blank screen, and to remember that in a loud and confusing world, Scripture is still the one steady truth I know.

Open windows, jazz on the radio, my pup in his bed next to me, and a warm glass of lemon water on my desk. A simple spring morning that feels like the perfect place to begin again.