It’s taken me oh so long to call myself a writer. But I always have been. From the moment I could hold a pen to paper and made my first journal out of glue and lined paper and the cardboard of a cereal box because I couldn’t stand not putting down the words any longer. I am a writer because when asked what I would take on a deserted island my first answer is always a journal and a pen.
About a year ago Shape magazine randomly showed up in my mailbox. I hadn’t ordered it and according the the credit card people at my bank, I hadn’t been charged […]
My bible study has been focusing on the Priscella Schriver study “Armor of God” and for the last 2 weeks we’ve stayed on the chapter of faith. Last week I […]
I woke up thinking about adoption. It’s funny, lately I’ve been dreaming about it, the topic heavy on my heart and intersecting all that I do. A few weeks ago, […]
There are some things that Montana does best. Dark mountains against grey skies is one of those things. For a season in our marriage we lived in on one of […]