We often make prayer so complicated, a labyrinth of lists and complicated expectations when it could be as simple as our breath. In the battle against anxiety and indecision, clutter and confusion, a deep breath and cry for help has been my first (and ongoing) step.

I’ve been wading in “the gray afternoon of the soul.” It’s not as dramatic as St. John of the Cross’ “Dark Night of the Soul.” It’s like being stuck in a thick fog with no light cutting through to show the way back to sunshine and simplicity. It’s been a season of aching over brokenness—my own, others, our polarized country and churches, and the horrors flashing on the nightly news

The thing most about-to-marry girls want to hear is how to prevent the mistakes their parents and everyone else in the world have made.

“Whoever refreshes others will be refreshed.” Proverbs 11:25 I want to give a cup of cold water to those weary in well doing. To connect people to Christ through story, Scripture, and creative community.

A small gathering of musicians, potters, painters, writers, and other artists captured a few quiet moments of food and conversation with singer-songwriter Sandra McCracken and musician Kenny Meeks in the home of Birmingham painter and InSpero founder, Gina Hurry.

We can be assured that God’s love indeed means that all will be well, but here and now this truth must be held in faith rather than full understanding. Julian of Norwich

As I walked and waited, prayed and pondered, I heard a quiet reassurance, “All shall be well.” And that one simple, but not ‘pat’ sentence, allowed me to breathe.

Beauty and brokenness are a package deal. If I live only in beauty, I live in denial. If I live only in brokenness, I live in despair. Beauty in the midst of brokenness is the cup of cold water, the hint of hope that there is more to come.

I never thought I was a worrier. Then I had kids.

“What do you most want to hear from God?” I’ve asked that question to many people. The overwhelming answer is . . .

Because if we opened ourselves to joy, well, there could be . . . dancing. And then how would we ever get back to the real grind of work?

I’ve lived the life of an over-eager onion peeler for many years.