I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced times of depression, or darkness, or heaviness in your life, but I certainly have. I started writing this several months ago, during a very dark season of my life. Hopefully it will be an encouragement to you if you’re going through some dark moments as well.   The world is broken like a hand painted plate crashed on my kitchen floor sharp fragments lying everywhere painful to touch threatening to damage me as I pick them up. Oh the plans I had for this dish, the dinner parties it was supposed to see. It hurts, In more ways than one this brokenness. My…

  When I fear men I am forgetting God. That path has been well trod in my history. See God intended me to be free from people’s expectations. It’s a crushing weight that makes me wait before I act or makes me want to take back actions after I see how people respond. See I’m drawn to praise and attention but that’s not freedom that’s detention. In a prison I built with my own two hands that often stands more prominent in my life than the tower that houses truth. I put that one in the back so it’s harder to defend the attacks. And even though it’s firmer and…

  Dwell in my mind. Take up every corner. Don’t be like a seasonal border But fill me up with your stuff like we’re on an episode of Hoarders. Move in and clean out the mess the stress the distress. Make me to be at my best, which only happens when You’re here. You being near is not near enough. I need You to live in my heart with an office in my mind. And I’ll find You commuting through my veins touching my skin without and within, because that’s where You are. Everywhere. All the time. But my mind, sometimes my mind needs it the most. So come on…

Way back in Uganda I was struggling to understand the concept of unconditional love, even from God. Then the Lord gave me this, my very first spoken word piece. This one’s for everyone who needs a dose of truth. Listen Here: spoken word love The lies swarm around me Like flies around a squattie pottie. I’ve spent years building this house, But the foundation is crumbling. And once again I find myself stumbling. I would say I don’t know where I’m going, But that’s just another lie. Because I, I’ve been down this road a million times. I don’t need any signs. The ruts are dug deep into this earth,…

Because some days, readjusting to life after the World Race and away from my squad is just a little bit tough. Listen here: reentry Sometimes it feels like I’m fading. It’s like just when I can finally see that girl with the megaphone claiming, shouting her identity, I get slammed head first back into reality once again trying to figure out how to be. It takes a village to keep me in the right frame of mind. But when my village changes, I find my colors growing dimmer. A boiling pot turned down to a simmer. Back on the assembly line of human production trying to figure out how to…

For those of us who don’t quite know where we’re supposed to be at any given moment in life. Listen here: the path I don’t know the words of the song, and yet I know it by heart. I can’t see the path ahead, like I’m walking in the dark. Wanting the sunrise or new eyes or clear skies or some sort of light to make sure I’m in the right place. And just in case a compass and map and a good pair of shoes and tomorrow’s news and whatever it might take to reassure me I won’t break. Forget that You say it. And replay it. I keep…

Since returning from the World Race, I’ve struggled with anxiety and fear. I guess this is my way of kicking it in the shins. Click here to listen: fear Remind me to trust You, Lord because it seems I keep forgetting letting the old fears sink in again listening to a voice that isn’t Yours. It’s a voice that sounds a lot like mine. But that’s just part of the lie, isn’t it? That whisper of “quit.” That whisper of “sit” right where you are but not in a peaceful way that whisper of “stay” but not to be at rest. That whisper that says I should be stressed. Because…

On the World Race, the Lord starting giving me new things to write, including spoken word. Here’s  a piece from month 10 in Latvia, written April 28th. It’s for everyone who is working through what God is calling them to next.     My Father’s hands are strong and mighty and in them He holds the world. My hands are tiny and clumsy and weak and tend to drop things. But these feeble hands like control. What they lack in strength they make up for in feisty persistence. So while my Father’s hands hold the earth, mine are scratching and clawing and grasping for a few palm-fulls of dirt. So…