Thursday morning, standing in that tangerine fire, I'd felt held by something infinite. The sunrise was teaching me something about recognition: This is what arrival feels like. This is what yes tastes like—metallic and sweet on your tongue. But when the publishing offer came, where was the orange glow? Sometimes the holiest ground is right there in the middle, suspended between shores.
faith
Between the Rocks: Finding Sanctuary in the Waiting
Sanctuary isn't the absence of uncertainty. It's not found in answered prayers staying answered or circumstances finally settling into place. Sanctuary is the practice of returning to God in the midst of unknowns—the daily choice to sit between the rocks and seek the Rock.
Setting Your Watch by the Sun
My new psychiatrist asked how I get my needs met when I'm busy meeting everyone else's. The answer: At sunrise, every day. I meet God there. For a year now, I've approached dawn like an altar. I can't set my watch by people anymore – their consistency wavers. But the sun rises because God commands it. Every morning, without fail, He proves His faithfulness.
Free to Fall and Fail Again: Finding Your Song in the Chaos
Everything around me changes with the seasons—the sunrise comes later, the routines shift, the household dynamics evolve. But I show up every morning at the water's edge, and the God who orders all of this—the sunrises and the sea glass walks, the students in room 202, and the beautiful chaos of family life—remains constant.
When Sun and Moon Share the Sky: Faith in an Unequally Yoked Marriage
My husband believes in God but isn't a Christian like I am. A pastor warned us about being “unequally yoked”; I married Tony anyway. Yesterday, watching sunrise, I noticed the sun and moon sharing the sky. When Tony fell from the roof, I saw how different lights can coexist beautifully.
Writer's Growth 