Reflecting on a life-changing year for me and the gifts it’s given me to take into 2024.

Grief isn’t done with me yet. Not sure it ever will be. Especially if I don’t learn to be still a little more often.

A few thoughts about where I’m at right now.

Between my son leaving for college, buying a new house, shifts in careers, and some difficult health-related news, it’s been a challenging few months. But I’m holding on to gratitude. Here’s what’s been going on.

Personal update about the current pandemic, The Sphinx’s Heart (it’s two books now!), our new dog, and more.

New book covers, wider distribution for my titles, plus my very eventful/uneventful start to the year.

Whether it’s fitness, professional, emotional, or spiritual goals—the only way to reach them is to do the work, whether you feel like it or not. The same is true for Writer’s Block. And, since it’s been a while, there are updates on multiple topics in this post.

Mae Renfroe lost her second-eldest son, Clayton, in a quadding accident in April of 2017 at the age of fourteen. Mae and I both hope you will be encouraged by her story.

For many, the holidays can be a difficult time of year. I recently shared a one-minute testimony about how I’ve found peace after our family tragedy, and wanted to share it with you. I hope it blesses you.

There will always be things that I’m dealing with. There will always be that sense of ebb and flow through seasons, times where my life seems more peaceful than others. But my happiness doesn’t depend on those circumstances.

There is an old joke that goes, "How do you eat an elephant?"

"I don't know, how do you?"

"One bite at a time."

The not-so-hidden truth in here can be applied to so many things—projects, goals, ginormous meals. But today, I'm going to talk about how I have found this true when tackling emotional hardship.*

*No elephants were harmed in the making of this blog post.

For some people, the Christmas season is their most difficult grieving season of the year.

Not me. With the passing of Noah's birthday on February 26, I have been descending pell-mell down the slope of anniversaries that bring up bittersweet memories of Levi.

Apparently, getting puppies is how I deal.

Two years later, we are still completely humbled when we consider the massive wave of support we received when Levi died. I am convinced that the support of our community through that first difficult year had a good deal to do with the progress we made in our healing. Yes, the work of grief must be done on an individual basis. But knowing that we were never alone had a significant impact on how brave we were in approaching that work.

How we celebrated Levi's birthday, and the saga of the passing of the Caravan.