There is a heaviness here. 
The storm-tossed and heavy-laden sit beside us. 
Her sighs and tear-soaked face tell a deeper story than words ever could. 
Oh Father, hold her near.

Give her yourself. 
You are our True Rest...

The anxieties are heavy. And the trek is so hard. And I am seriously weary. 

But the Bible tells me to cast all of that on to Jesus (1 Peter 5:7). We are told to hurl all our bags of worries and anxieties onto Jesus. 

Why?

Rest came easy for me. I lived in a safe house. My finances were reliable. Plans were in place for retirement and my future. Sleep came easy because the patterns and rhythms of my life were normal and stable.

But with the breaking of my marriage came the loss of easy rest.

We are a community of treasure seekers.

We have sifted through the ashes of shattered marriages and broken dreams to find beauty. 

And oh, how we’ve found it, haven’t we?

When I spend Saturday all alone and the halls of my home feel hauntingly quiet, you are my True Rest. 

When fears won’t ease and provision for our future feels thin as glass, you are my True Rest. 

When it feels like the darkness and grief will never lift, you are my True Rest. 

Oh, dear Shepherd of my soul, you are my True Rest. In you alone do I find peace. 

When I learned of my husband’s infidelity, it felt like I was on the side of the road, my heart bleeding out, noise, chaos, trauma confusion, pain—so much pain. A small number of people jumped out of their cars, ran towards me (literally—dropped work, got on airplanes, raced to get to me). They were the ones who worked to calm the chaos, triage the immediate pain, hold me while I sobbed and surveyed the loss.

But most were onlookers...

Do you carry a story of rejection? Maybe it feels like there is a banner over your head declaring that you are UNWANTED, UNLOVED, REJECTED? Rejection carries tones of shame that cannot be covered over easily. It infects us, down to the very core.

Did you know you’re not alone?

Five weeks after my husband’s unfaithfulness was exposed, I lost everything. First came my shattering, then came the great unraveling. Everything started to fall apart before my eyes...

Some friends have gone silent and seem to be avoiding me & it hurts. Did this happen to you?

Oh, this is a hard one. Yes this happened to me, and yes it hurt. My heart is with you.

Here’s the thing—I truly believe that your friends are not trying to avoid or ignore you. My guess is they don’t know what to say or do—to the point that it’s paralyzed them and now they feel it’s too late, so they step back to avoid making things worse. 


How do I know? Well, this has been me before, and probably you too?

It’s our first Father’s Day since he left—all of us are feeling crummy & not sure how to handle the day?

This one is so timely! Here’s some of my thoughts based on our experience

Will I be sad forever?

We are answering some questions from our community and I can feel the sorrow and weight behind this one.

Short answer: no. But here’s my why…

Most mornings I wake up in a panic. Life feels so fragile, like it’s being held together with tape or string. This is one of the aftershocks of being left by my husband.

I closed the door and he walked down the sidewalk. His car started and I heard it back out of the driveway. I slowly turned around to face my babies, crumpled on the brand-new sofa. He had stopped by to share the news with them. The big news.

The “D” word news: DIVORCE.

A word that felt like poison. Poured out on us; stinging and ripping our hearts to shreds.

I climbed between them and we cried. We cried and cried and cried. We cried until the tears ran out. I was so afraid. How, Lord? How will I carry their oceans of grief when I’m drowning in the sea myself? 

Instead of checking off my spiritual to-do list all I could do was sip my tea, cry and long for rest. Unwanted divorce, solo parenting, betrayal, grief and unseen burdens weighed heavy rendering me exhausted—both physically and spiritually.

Single moms seem to carry a particular burden that often goes unrecognized—that of chronic decision fatigue and a need for rest. This weariness presents itself emotionally, physically and spiritually. This Mother’s Day we can offer true rest to single moms by being the body of Christ, lifting her eyes to Jesus Christ, the only One in whom true rest can be found.

There is something sacred about Saturday’s stillness in the passion account. The disciples didn’t have eyes to see that hope was brimming under the surface. They were full of grief and despair, longing and fear. But we are of those who see the dawn of Sunday. 

And yet, here we sit: BETWEEN.

The secretary at my lawyer’s office gave me a call to let me know the papers were ready and asked if I could drop by Friday to sign them. A lump immediately formed in my throat and I felt like I couldn’t swallow. After months of being dragged through a horrific legal mess, my divorce papers just needed to be signed and my marriage would be over.

We feel our weakness so deeply, don’t we? We need someone strong enough to bear the weight of it all. So, let’s pause in the messy in- between to welcome the grace of biblical lament into our lives. As we spend time reflecting on passages of lament in the Bible, we will push our hearts towards hope in the only One strong enough to bear the weight of such immense pain.

And hope sounds pretty good when life shatters, doesn’t it?

You are the God of comfort. You look with compassion on my ruins.My life feels shattered (hopeless, even?)

But you are a God who takes deserts and wastelands and turns them into gardens like Eden. What a promise. 

So here I am—in the brokenness of my life, my story, my marriage, my family—asking you to take all of these shards and splintered pieces and make something beautiful. Use these ashes for your glory and my good. 

Dear Church, let’s align ourselves with the work of Jesus, our Good Shepherd, and PURSUE. Let’s stay near on the heels of the hurting in our midst. Abandoned and divorced women naturally find themselves on the edges & fringes. Let’s bring them in and go about the work of Jesus, offering rest, care, provision, safety—FAITHFUL LOVE!

I AM UNLOVED.

Over and over it plays, like a skipping record player. I mean, to be fair, I do have reason to believe those words. They were spoken over me by the one who vowed to love me forever. It makes sense that I would feel this way because it’s true.

Or at least partly. Maybe I should say, ONLY partly?

These dark thoughts threaten to take over my mind, like weeds in a garden. That thought—that I AM UNLOVED thought—threatens to cast itself near and far, all the way to Jesus.