I Want to Walk on the Water

Grief. Feels like a shipwreck.  One moment life is familiar. The next, you're floating in waters you never expected to navigate, surrounded by pieces of the life you once knew, reaching for whatever you can find just to stay afloat. Then the waves come. One after another. Relentless. Threatening to pull you under before you've caught your breath from the last one. If you've ever walked through deep grief, I don't have to explain those pictures. You know them. You've lived them. I know them, too. Not your story perhaps, b ut I know what it feels like to have life change in an instant. To wonder how you'll ever move forward. To question whether you'll ever feel whole again.  Somewhere along the journey—maybe not immediately, but eventually—a different question begins to surface. "Why?" Why did this happen? Why now? Why them? Why me? If we're honest, we're often searching for the purpose of our pain, but over the years  I've come to know ...

One of the most breathtaking sights in the ocean is watching a humpback whale feed. Scientists call it lunge feeding . The whale surges upward, opening its mouth nearly ninety degrees as the expandable pleats beneath its jaw stretch like an accordion. In one incredible gulp, it takes in an enormous amount of water and food. Then something remarkable happens.  The whale filters everything it has taken in.  It keeps only what will sustain it.  The rest is released back into the sea.  As I watched this magnificent creature, I couldn't help but think... "There's a lesson here." The funny thing is, this journey didn't actually begin with a whale.  It began in  Proverbs.  For thirty chapters, Proverbs repeatedly warns us about our mouths.  Guard your tongue. Don't gossip. Don't lie. Don't speak recklessly. Don't answer before listening. Then, almost unexpectedly, the final chapter changes direction.  Three times we're told to open our mouths. "...

People have asked me, "So what's your story?"  And I think to myself, well, t he highlights reel would look something like this... My father died of heart failure just before my 21st birthday and that sent me reeling. I was divorced by the age of 22, divorced again in my thirties, and spent eight years as a single mom raising two daughters. I nearly died giving birth to one of those daughters. Nearly died from a ruptured appendix. And now, decades later, I find myself navigating my own heart failure journey. I've started businesses that failed. Started over more times than I can count. Got remarried and spent the last ten years of life with my husband, navigating the beautiful and sometimes messy whatevers of a blended family and now we're building a YouTube channel. Those details are true. There were times when I nearly lost myself in the grief, the heartbreak, the disappointments, and the labels others placed on me, b ut maybe that was the whole point.  Maybe Go...

🌊 Bid Me Come Closer: Notes From the Journey  I've always loved movie soundtracks.  Not because they're pretty background music.  Because they help tell a story. Think about movies like The Patriot .  Sometimes the music feels like a battle cry!  A reminder of what's at stake and a  call to keep moving forward when the fight seems impossible. Then there's Rocky.  Remember those training scenes?  There was no better music than when Rocky started preparing for the fight. This season of my life has both.  Some days feel like a battle.  Other days feel like training.  Either way, this season has a soundtrack.  Actually, a revolving soundtrack. Some days I need encouragement. Some days I need a battle cry. Some days I need to declare victory before I can see it. Some days praise wells up from somewhere deep inside me because I'm simply grateful to be alive. And some days I need the wisdom of the Holy Spirit to guide decisions I nev...

🐳  Part 1 of the Lessons from Jonah series  So, I thought I was studying Jonah. Instead, I found myself. There is something in Jonah's story that feels painfully familiar. Not because most of us have boarded a ship bound for Tarshish, but because many of us know what it feels like to move in the opposite direction of what God is asking. The story begins with a simple command in the first verse of the first chapter: "Now the word of the Lord came unto Jonah..."  God spoke. Jonah heard. And Jonah ran. Not because he didn't know God. Not because he doubted God's existence. Not because he was unaware of God's voice. He ran because he didn't want to do what God asked. Scripture tells us that Jonah went down to Joppa, found a ship, paid the fare, and boarded it to flee "from the presence of the Lord."  The irony is impossible to miss. You cannot outrun the One who is everywhere.  Yet how often do we try? Sometimes we run through outright rebellion. So...

🌊 Bid Me Come Closer: Notes From the Journey At the end of my last blog, The Story of My Life with Heart Failure: The Beginning ,  I made a promise. I said I would share the journey. The fear. The victories. The setbacks. The prayers. The miracles. And the practical things helping me survive this season. This new series, Bid Me Come Closer: Notes from the Journey , is my attempt to keep that promise.  These are not lessons from someone who has arrived. They are reflections from someone who is still walking, still learning, and still discovering Jesus in unexpected places.  So let's begin with a question Jesus once asked a man who had been waiting a very long time: Do you want to get well? There was a defining moment in this journey that I will never forget. After hearing the diagnosis, I finally asked the question that had been weighing heavily on my heart.  "What is the prognosis?" The doctor looked at me and said: "I don't know yet. We're just going to con...

There is a kind of exhaustion that goes deeper than being tired. Not the kind sleep fixes. Not the kind a vacation heals. The kind that settles into your soul after fighting for a long time. Weariness. I once heard a speaker say that nearly everyone who is told by their physician, “Change your ways or die,” never truly changes. I heard that statistic a few months ago at a seminar before I understood how sick I actually was. I remember sitting there thinking: Why wouldn’t they change? Why would someone choose not to live? Now I understand. Weariness. Weary with no perceived progress. Weary with the contraption you are tethered to. Weary with bland food. Weary with limitations. Weary with the looks of pity. Weary with the lack of energy. Weary with waking up every day wondering if this is as good as it gets. And somewhere deep inside, screaming for normalcy. Why can’t things just go back to the way they were before? Being completely honest? I wanted to give up this wee...

There is something about Peter’s words in the middle of the storm that I cannot get out of my spirit: “Lord, if this is You… bid me come closer.” The storm was raging. The waves were violent. The wind was terrifying. The disciples were afraid. Yet, in the middle of all of it, Peter recognized Jesus. Not after the storm passed. Not once the sea became calm. Right there in the middle of the chaos. That changed the way I see this account entirely. Because maybe Peter stepping out of the boat was not only about boldness or reckless faith. Maybe it was about recognizing Jesus in the middle of the storm and realizing that being closer to Him mattered more than staying where he was. Honestly, that hits me deeply. Because sometimes life feels exactly like that. Heavy. Uncertain. Overwhelming. The winds rage around us. Fear creeps in. Circumstances feel bigger than we are. And in moments like that, it becomes very easy to focus only on the storm itself. But Peter looke...