Bible

I ordered my dream bed from a shop on Etsy, a carved and distressed French Victorian fit for a king and queen—or wannabes. I ordered it in late February and received it 16 weeks later, a sign that unless the New Jersey shop owners were felling trees and building beds on demand, my bed was more likely shipped from overseas. By raft. I had checked on my order often and consoled myself in its delay with how pretty the bed was and how well worth the wait it would be when it finally came. Our box springs and king mattress, stacked and waiting on the floor for their placement on their royal throne, began growing fuzz around the edges, the linty-soft, grayish

Do you ever wonder if God sees you? Hears you? Loves you? Whether you have never prayed a single prayer in your life or you have been walking with God for a long time, it’s normal to have questions. It’s normal to doubt. It’s normal to hope and wonder about God altogether. Wherever you are on the faith spectrum, we are so glad you’re here. Our team of writers consists of women of faith. Women who are beginning their faith journey. Women building their faith. Women who have experienced hard, real-life things and have fought to maintain a battered faith. Because of this, we see the value in seeking God. One of the most sure ways to do this is through reading

Have you ever felt like your world was shaking, maybe even crumbling, around you? I say “your world” and not “the world” because it’s not actually the whole world, just your whole world. Which is a very different thing because you can feel quite alone when it’s only “your world.” If it were, indeed, the whole world then at least you’d have some company. I think most of us have been there, or are there right now. It’s part of living in a broken place. Illness, division, pain, separation, heartbreak, sin—and its aftermath. There is so much going on around us, it can be overwhelming within us. As I was reading Psalm 46, I felt as though the author understood all of

It was a beautiful Saturday morning. I sat down at my desk and set a warm cup of tea on my favorite china plate. The sun peeked through the window, casting an interesting shadow across my desk and the surrounding floor. Titus, our 11-year-old dog, found a sliver of sun and stretched out on the rug, sound asleep after a nice walk on the river trail. The world was quiet, a perfect time to write. I opened my laptop and read a few emails, responded to the most important, and then turned my attention to a new writing project. I had been working for about an hour when it hit. A high-pitched ringing in my left ear. I continued to try to

This summer I turned 45, which was a bit of a big deal. I had some accomplishments I desperately hoped to achieve in celebration of this milestone, one of which was publishing my first book. I’ve spent the better part of the last two years writing, editing, and honing my message, wrestling my stories down to the ground and looking for their transcendent meaning. That’s why I was a bit surprised by the publisher’s “note” at the top of my manuscript. “Thanks for sharing your spiritual memoir with me.” I had spent months agonizing over a concise yet sensational way to explain what my book was about. A spiritual memoir never made the list. But once she labeled it as such, I