Blog posts.

So I heard you’re writing a novel.

  "So, I heard you're writing a novel!" --Everyone, to me, all the time I've heard this phrase several times from different people over the last 23 days (a few days ago, it was twice in one day). And each time I've tried to answer them, I've ended up doing a weird combination of shaking… Continue reading So I heard you’re writing a novel.

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A few life updates.

So I know I haven't written in a while, but these past few months have been chock-full of changes and transitions and all the busyness that comes with adjusting to new life rhythms. (By the way, what is a chock? Can anyone explain this to me?) I tried to come up with a unifying theme… Continue reading A few life updates.

Hey I got the Liebster Award!

Well, Wanderers, the title says it all. Last week, the lovely Maddie from Myriads of Blessings nominated me and The Mind That Wanders for something pretty sweet called the Liebster Award--it's basically an award new bloggers give to other new bloggers when they love what they read. It's meant to encourage people to read and… Continue reading Hey I got the Liebster Award!

Within wilderness.

A collection of artistic artifacts chronicling my anxiety, God, and the wilderness.

The in-between.

Today was Holy Saturday. As I sat on a park bench, preparing to write, an elderly woman wearing enormous white sunglasses and carrying a can of Del Monte Canned Spinach and a loaf of bread approached me and asked if she could sit next to me. I said sure. She sat there, eating her bread and spinach… Continue reading The in-between.

“Joy’s flame.”

I had thought joy's flame needed protecting. All these years, these angers, these hardenings, this desire to control, I thought I had to snap the hand closed to shield joy's fragile flame from the blasts. In a storm of struggles, I had tried to control the elements, clasp the fist tight so as to protect… Continue reading “Joy’s flame.”

Rest and see.

Greetings, Wanderers. It's been a while since I've written. Over this past Christmas season, I've been around the world and back, from my home in snowy Michigan to the red tile roofs of Prague, from the mountains of Salzburg to the small farm towns of East Texas, and back to my beloved windy city of… Continue reading Rest and see.

The confessions of a recovering Little Miss (Un)helpful.

When we were very young, my parents bought me and my sisters each a storybook in the Little Miss series by Roger Hargreaves. The books are small, slim paperbacks that follow the lives of their titular cartoon characters: Emily got Little Miss Sunshine and Sarah got Little Miss Bossy. Mine was called Little Miss Helpful. It was one of my favorite stories. As you might guess, Little… Continue reading The confessions of a recovering Little Miss (Un)helpful.

Starting to Speak

Some lovely words from my friend Anna on this Jesus I follow and proclaiming what He truly stands for: grace, truth, and radical love.

Every Thought Captive

I’ve always held off on speaking my mind, I think because I’m pretty sure no one cares. I don’t say that out of self-pity; no one should care. I’m a 22 year old white girl from Illinois. I have lots of privilege and very little life experience. I’m about as plain a human being as you could imagine. I know this. I’m not even offended by it. It’s just a fact. But I think right now, that’s the very reason I need to speak out.

Over the last few months, my heart has been broken again and again by my continual realization of how the average American experiences and perceives Christianity. I’ve heard friends tell me of the hurtful experiences of condemnation and judgment they’ve had with Christians, seen the damage done to the lives of LGBT individuals under the guise of Christianity, and, just yesterday, watched a man scream…

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Making moves.

It always amazes me when I meet someone my age who has lived, with the exception of college, in one place their entire lives. Growing up, I moved a lot. I lived in five different homes before I got to middle school, six different homes before I graduated high school. Admittedly, these moves were never more than… Continue reading Making moves.