It's been a while since you've heard from me — God's been calling me to slow down this summer. That meant friends, meals, and prayer walks in the forest preserve, interceding for one another night after night. It's become one of the biggest blessings of my life.

For years, parts of my life felt like barren, weed-choked ground. This is the story of watching a Gardener patiently work through seasons of rain, drought, and pruning — and finally seeing new buds appear. Wherever your own "garden" is right now, there's encouragement here for you.

A dinner with strangers turned into one of the most honest conversations I've had in a long time. Health struggles, broken trust, shame — and underneath it all, the same ache: a desperate need for rest and rhythm. Here's what that night taught me about community and God's faithfulness.

We spend so much of life working for outcomes — for health, love, purpose — only to find we can't actually control the results. This devotional is about the ongoing surrender of letting God hold the outcomes I'm tempted to manage myself, and trusting His timing over my own.

Youth ministry. A missions trip. Soccer. This season, I said no to good things — not because they weren't good, but because I sensed God asking me to hold them with open hands. Here's what it looked like to let go of things I loved, and trust Him to be near in the empty space.

This is the story of how a desire to hear God's voice more clearly turned into something bigger than I expected — a bi-weekly prayer group gathering in living rooms and forest preserves. Whether new to prayer or years deep in faith, there was room for everyone. Here's how it started.

I thought slowing down would bring peace. Instead, it brought all the emotions busyness had been covering up. If your own season of stillness has felt harder instead of easier, you're not alone — and there's grace for that too. Here's what I learned two days into my own slow-down.

Sometimes hearing God clearly means giving something up first. This spring, I felt the Lord nudging me to fast from things quietly dividing my attention from Him — music, dating apps, distraction. It wasn't a requirement, just an invitation to make room. Here's what that season looked like.

Caught between waiting and moving, I’ve been sitting with the image of the dove in Genesis 8:6–12—sent out over uncertain waters, searching for life, yet always returning to rest. In this in-between season, I sense God inviting me to trust what He’s formed in me and step forward without needing every answer first. Maybe faith isn’t always about clear direction, but the courage to go—because the One who sends me is trustworthy.

The party was over and reality was waiting. But nobody warns you that achieving everything you ever wanted can still leave you standing in the silence wondering — what's next?

Six years in the making, one leap of faith, and everything changed. What happens when the mountain you've been climbing your whole life finally meets its summit — and the party that follows has to come to an end?

I walked into a house the day before Thanksgiving and immediately knew — this was home. But between two cash offers, a roof lawsuit, and lenders turning me away, getting here was nothing short of a miracle. My realtor said it best: it was like God parted the Red Sea. She was right. Here's how He did it.

For years I prayed for God to part the Red Sea in my life, only to realize He was asking me to take the first step toward it. This is the story of how I missed an opportunity, how God graciously offered another, and how confronting the “Pharaoh” in my life became the turning point of my faith.

Submission. It’s one of those words that makes every woman in Bible study shift in her seat. But what if submission isn’t about losing control — it’s about trusting who’s in control? As I wrestled through Ephesians, I realized I’ve spent my life being obedient but not always submissive. Obedience can come from fear, but submission comes from love, trust, and joy — even when it means surrendering what I want for what God knows is best.

Trusting God sounds simple—until you’re faced with a decision that scares you. I’ve found myself in that space lately: unsure, anxious, and caught between fear and faith. It reminded me of Finding Nemo—Marlin’s struggle to let go and trust the journey. Maybe that’s what trust really is: not knowing the outcome, but believing that God will be with us, even if we get it wrong.

Fear kept me playing it safe, but God’s grace freed me to play bold—on the field and in life.

Speaking the truth isn’t always easy—or safe—but it’s necessary. From calling out a teammate on the field to standing firm in everyday life, honesty requires courage, integrity, and sometimes, a willingness to face conflict. Yet it’s in these moments that we find freedom, empower others, and stay true to who we are.

On our final night of the missions trip, I reflected on how God calls us to serve, often in humble, behind-the-scenes ways. Through the story of Rahab, I was reminded that obedience, regardless of its visibility, is precious to God. Watching our youth serve with boldness and grace, I saw how stepping back allowed me to witness God's work in unexpected and beautiful ways.

Faith isn’t just something we feel—it’s something we live. As I step into the unknown, I’m reminded that worship is one of the most powerful ways we act in faith. Like Rahab and the Israelites at Jericho, I want to trust God fully—declaring His goodness, surrendering control, and walking forward with a heart of praise.