Deep water .

A ‘ for sale ‘ sign is all it took and now we are in freefall over the edge.

Doors close on our life as we sign it over and go insearch of a new home to make our own .

Half a life. Half a legacy. Half is what we have to start again .

Half is not what I seek to find .
Wholeness, fullness and completion  is what Im looking for .

Life has been cyclonic at best .
These last years have been pain unparalleled and have stretched my faith and capacity beyond what I ever thought Id walk .

To get back up again and again when all I’ve wanted was endless sleep has taken its toll…

Knowing little hearts needed holding has been the catalyst that kept me reaching out , showing up and doing what needed to be done.

Somehow through the haze of salty tears, brokenness and rage we’ve come through together not as damaged as before.

Life stopped short, hearts shattered .. Identity torn apart . 

Our world spun on its axis and tumbled to the very end of everything that was solid ground. Balancing on the edge itself I find myself with a choice ..

Stay here precarious and raise my girls or jump, risk freefall and land in the unknown.
Dive willfully into the deep insearch of freedom itself.

Jump we did and the deep is where we find ourselves and Im no stranger here .
Ive been in over my head plenty of times before. But never out this far.

This has been a season of total reckoning .This instability has shaken every facet of our lives. Circumstance keeps my feet from touching bottom still and the waves keep thundering overhead .

I have felt drowned on more then one occasion .Totally incompetant for the tasks at hand .
Yet out here in the deep is where I am .

The risk however seems to be paying off …

Faith held our heads above the water line. Breathed life to stifled lungs .

Grace extended hands that bore us back to the surface time and time again and spoke life to our broken hearts .

Love is boyancy.

Truth cuts the weights that lies tied around our feet threatening to drag us under.

In the deep out beyond the breakers its were freedom exists.
Beyond reason and security .
Beyond the trials and torments of broken trust and damaged hearts .
Beyond fury and manipulation .
Beyond the lies that sort to use us up and drown us totally.
Beyond the crashing waves is the deep.

The deep requires faith to venture into . 
Faith to duck dive under breakers time and time again with the hope that once we pass the impact zone calm waters will exist.

As the tide washes out around us we pickup momentum moving faster through the channels taking us deeper still .

To my suprise Im finding the snorkle and life raft I’ve been clinging to so desperately evaporating …
No longer do I need a lifepreserver to exist out here.
Im growing gills and fins and scales all at once at lightning speed as faith excersized increases in volume filling the internal voids.
Driving away that doubt and unbelief.

The deep becomes my home and theres freedom being found out so far from safeties shore .

Here in the deep our existence rests solely grace and not the whims of another but in mercies own heart and my own two hands.

The deep is liberating.
This inbetween of almost free and not quiet home is space to dare to dream new dreams and  pray new prayers.

Theres room here to stretch out in this faith now unchained and no longer weighted down.

I can lift my voice here loud ..no need to edit my thoughts or silence my declarations.

The timid washes away and courage takes hold in its place.
The deep no longer scares me ..
I’ve found my fit in a leap of faith .

What shores we wash up on are yet to be seen…
Where home is I dont yet know .  Theres process and protocal to follow here that leaves us resting on faith alone as practically our hands are tied for a little longer.

But the deep is calmer now.
Beckoning us farther out again .
As horizons fade away from view so do the limitations I had placed around our lives .
From here our tomorrows are infinite in possibilities.
Intrigue as to whats to come now drives us forward .
Cautious excitement is seeping into the places that once held anxieties narrative.

For everything we’ve lost and grieved whats coming promises to outweigh that pain with joyful new beginings and fresh starts ahead .

Tides turning once again.
Love lights the way home.

Truthseeker

Truth dear heart is absolute, not subjective.

It does not come in shades of grey…changeable like stage costumes. It is seldom choreographed, never rehearsed….it does not fear exposure.

Viewing truth from different angles does not change its composition .

Its solid, not vapor.

It stands alone sure footed not needing to survive afloat on the slanderous tear downs of another.

What is,is.

All the lies on earth don’t change the facts .

Truth is buoyant. You can’t keep it sunken down, no matter how hard you try .

Fakery breeds false comfort .Its the calm before the storm.

Even truth seekers can be deceived if the lies are comfortable enough to snuggle down into.

If they support the picture dear hearts crave to hold then we dive in blindly mesmerized by possibility and empty promises.

And can you blame us ?

I’ve jumped to by a line.Led by love and the false hope the lie birthed.

I, who should have known better ,sort truth and brought the lie, the con, the scam…..price paid but to late to avoid collateral damage.

Did you know crocodile tears aren’t just shed by crocodiles? Consider them costume jewelry ,all a part of the show.

Oh dear hearts, please learn from my mistakes!

Please learn to not just see but seek it out .That truth amongst the tangled webs ,even if its hard to swallow.

For these little hearts that I hold so close I pray they always value honesty above all else.

That they love fiercely and forgive freely but are wise enough to spot deception a mile off and bold enough to call it out .

I want them to know that forgiveness is the holy home of freedom .

I pray they are less easily fooled then I.

That they know their worth is based on the intrinsic value of their soul and nothing else.

That they are ever loved !

That they are wiser then I .

That they have compassion for broken ones but safe enough regard for self to not be broken down by them.

I pray they have courage enough to know their limits ,brave enough to hold firm boundaries.

To know there is more honor in a painful truth then face saving white lies.

To be brave enough to be authentic always .To never loose their fight.

To never compromise their values or sell their souls for transient things.

To know the difference between real hope and empty words that only offer make believe.

I strive to teach them to see souls ,not faces .Not eyes and hands but hearts . To see the scars and the landscapes of those inner places that make us who we are .

To know the power that they hold and to always use it justly.

For them to know compassion ,forgiveness and truth will always take us further then bitterness and anger but that anger has its place … just don’t stay there to long.

That grace and mercy are divinely given into overflow when called up on.

To see the worth of showing up for hard conversations and the merit in asking harder questions .

To try to always speak truth in love.

That love is a gift ,but trust is earnt ….and to never sell themselves short in that regard.

That hearts do break but then they heal .

That fires don’t always mean destruction but can refine hearts and lives into the purest form .

To not fear the storms just because we feel the wind and rain.

That there are better days ahead.

That they are worthy of love , of truth , of respect and dignity.

To settle for nothing less.

That life is hard , but God is good and tomorrow always comes.

MIA

Seems courage is missing ….fear takes place as counterfiet memories rampage through  distorting a  mind …

Grass is always greener elsewhere and its true for a while till you realise that all green lawns are labour intensive .

Shame and guilt arrive and unpack suitcases settling in and making them selves comfy .. they are here to haunt and taunt..to sabotage the lifeline and steal the light of hope .

They breathe fakery ..spawning lies and mindgames that spew venom onto holy hearts .

But it doesnt stick .

Holy hearts are held in hands of grace and they know truth from disfunction .Refusing to be drawn into the twisted games of broken down queens .

Prefering to stand apart . Staying sweet , honest and open .

Heavens own hand fights for these beloved ones , theres no need to muddy ourselves in this mess .

Sweetness and truth hold strength unparalleled. Grace allows one to be bent perhaps but never broken .

The storms serve only to strengthen our roots .. sending them deeper still .

Heavens life force flows through them .Unmoveable . Unshaken . Undeterred.

This isnt were the road seemed to lead .. but hands of grace guide us through illuminating futures bright …and its ok this detoured road .

No fear lives here . Regret and sorrow dont get to take up space but are moved out as quickly as they arrived .

So the adventure continues.

Having learnt long ago what love is and what it isnt makes this space only blessed .

Love releases… lets go ..fighting for a heart doesnt make it yours .

Never trust a heart that had to be drawn, seduced manipulated or tempted into residence .

Love is freely given . Freely recieved .Held loosely and wishes blessing not curses .

Love doesnt control or manipulate. Doesnt hunt down threatening spreading lies and rumores wide .

Love is not obsession .
Love is not toxic ..it does not poision .

It holds space . Stays in grace and releases out, breathing blessings for the road ahead .

Love never fails .. it doesnt damage ..doesnt lie ..doesnt break the hearts its bound to care for .

Those things never flow from one who loves …only from hearts that have lost themselves in swirls of deception and vicious cycles of disfunction.

Grace teaches truth . Teaches hearts to recognise love when they encounter it .

Life is heavy without grace carrying the weight . This heart does not  pretend to have it all figured out but is thankful the weight of the walk is shared load.

In our joy and in our pain there is stablity as we are planted deep in heavens heart unmovable , protected , sure footed .

So here we stand …5 again not 6. Praying sight to the blind . Mercy to the broken and blessing over the ones that curse us ..This is how we walk contrary to this life .This is heavens way .

Restoration.





RUINS derelict and abandon. Came upon them by suprise, silent and unsort.

This wasnt really where I pictured us. After all this holy ground is ruined city, desolate and unkept.

Its been looted and vandalised to an extent that if you didnt know what stood here before it would be unrecognisable .

This landscape is pretty badly beaten up, I wont lie.

Ruins are full of ragged edges. Shards of glass stick out here and there at odd angles .Fallen beams and broken staircases are a trip hazard and we tread carefully trying to weave a path through the wreakage and come out the other end without more damage then before.

By faith, eyes are able to see through the distortion…percieving like  visionaries the beauty that could stand .

Before the earth shook down this city, before the vandals attacked her walls and war broke out.

She was once beautiful.
Full of promise.
Built for delight and home and heart and family.

She nursed dreams within her walls. Laughter rung out and adventures were seeded deep in her gardens waiting for the time to sprout, grow, leaf and fruit.. but it never came.

Winter fell heavy.
Those dreams froze deep in the earth .Spring never arrived . 

Wars raged around her.She became collateral damage to the surrounding disfunction.

Her foundations,always a little sketchy, cracked apart and she crumbled



Heart left the city and it was turned over to whomever felt entitled to rampage her walls.

Now back here we stand beholding ruins and wondering where to start.

It seems that even the harshest winters never really last .Spring always comes and those deep seeded dreams aren’t dead at all to our suprise but amongst the chaos and cracked open earth have felt the sun and sprouted up in search of light.

Within this shattered landscape life breathes again.

Hope like seedlings springs up in the most unlikely places and although the envirionment is ragged still, we find it punctuated with the vibrance of possibilities regrowth.

Wisdom, grace and insight is desperately sort to know where to begin .
This is a restoration project of epic proportion and building on broken-down foundations is a fools game .

We aim to build it slow and right.
Taking time to ensure steadfast footings.
To clear the clutter and remove the rubble.

To see the space to draft new blueprints and begin again with guidance of an architects eye and hand.

To build sturdy castles here in this landscape is the dream.With stronger  boundry lines that keep the vandals out and higher towers to gaze futher into the future then we could see before.




To dream impossible dreams and plant them like seeds deep in fertile grounds.

To tend these gardens well and have them bare holy fruit for generations on.


Healthy strong cities birth legacy and hold high the hearts that follow in the labourours wake.

What once was impossible now seems tangible.We dare to forge the path that is seldom walked .

Its said nothing worth doing is ever easy, what is easy never lasts.

This restoration is far from effortless but we are standing tall believing the sweat and tears are blessed.

Healing after all is seldom pretty. But much like reconstruction fortification is a nesassary element.

Foundations now built on hope and heart trusting the rest will follow.

Such is life that when we find our feet and learn the landscape, the earth turns suddenly and all that was is at once undone .

Faith allows sight to see these ruins for what that are and yet overlay them with what will be .

Holding fast to what was is staying stuck in ruins desolate.
Instead we choose to take a leap and start a journey deep into new beginings.

Forgiveness ends wars , takes power back from vandels hands .
It offers clean slate. Its the gift that rewrites a new tomorrow. Birthing future in her wake .

All thats required is the courage to chase down the truth, Catching hold of light and choose to see beyond the present mess and futher into tomorrow.



Waiting.



Patience is not a thing that comes easily to me.
It’s a hard-learned quality that I still struggle to grasp firmly…
I hate delay..hate the pause…the uncertainty that the wait entails.

But nevertheless, here we are again.

We’ve lived pause and isolation before. Oh, more times then I can be bothered to count.

When our sunchild became ill and overnight turned into a shade-seeker we stepped out of the race.
Hid from the light.
The threat of exposure, sunlight or illness, was too costly for her.
She was defenceless and we had  need to retreat from the world, from life to an extent and re-write our normal.

When depression and pain reared its ugly head again and again…we stood back once more.
Retreating from loved ones and acquaintances alike.

It took everything to keep one foot moving in front of the other.. Years lived this way…this half-life.

Then one day the disease lost its grip letting go of our girl… Light returned to her smile.

Later on, the depression and rage left home.  Slowly but surely new life has been found on the wings of faith and
in the arms of friends … we stood tall again..finding our feet, our breath. Shaken and bruised but redefined through the hardship into something stronger.

So it seems like a mean trick and the worst possible timing this current season of shaking and stirring…

The whole earth appears to be trembling…a global pandemic..a virus.  Unseen before and we are all taken off guard..ill-prepared.

Gods fall all around us and take with them any semblance of security.Stockmarkets plummet, unemployment skyrockets.
Its hard to tell whether the real threat is an illness or the fear it infests us all with.

We are left stunned and helpless in the face of a storm set to swallow the earth as we know it…

Meanwhile, this child that once overcame a beast is showing signs of relapse…

The strain of the last yr has taken its toll on all of us. But this child, My strong silent girl with a brave face to rival any warrior is struggling …it starts with pain unspoken.

My mummas eyes are trained to see the hints no one else but her big sister sees. These clues are seared into the recesses of our being we know them on some primal instinctive level. 

Rashes follow.
A butterfly flush stretches across her creamy white cheeks..encircling both beautiful hazel eyes and stretch down to her chin. It’s been coming and going for a while but now comes and lingers longer then I can stand…

This flush is pure anger – blood boiling vessels and capillaries raging with inflammation that circulates through her system…tearing and shredding at her muscles..her joints ..her organs and skin.

For an invisible disease, the visible ruins me.

She doesn’t play her guitar much any more. Her hands ache and while she hasn’t said anything…the lack of music from behind her door tells the tale. I have become home sick for the sound of plucked and strummed melodies.

A blood draw confirms my fear and my heart braces, knees crumble and I am found again on my face calling heaven down around her demanding the light return and banish the beast for once and for all.

There’s no other beside me this time. No shoulder to brace myself on or hand to grip when fear beckons after dark.
When my mind runs rings around itself..and all I have is prayer.

I find myself on my knees,prayers constantly falling from my lips.They drop as desperate laments, sprout wings and reach heavens ears in a stream of constant overflow.

Communion unending breathes faith back into the dark space between fact and truth and I am tethered to heavens heart again.

I’ve come to realise I can’t stop the onslaught. Life is in lockdown as the threats around us magnify.

But in this place of waiting…

Waiting to see how just how firmly that beast has tightened its grip on this child….

Waiting to see if she’ll shake it again or is this to be war once more?

Of waiting out the tremors of the world around us. For this pandemic to burn out…

Waiting for friends and family homes and hands to be safe reprieve again…

To see what tomorrow holds for our little reshaped family… I’m relearning the art of patience…

I remember learning once before to count blessings. How doing so drove out the darkness and summoned the light.

To fix my eyes beyond the storm clouds, and gaze above the waves.

A season of slow down offers much to one whos willing to see it… but mostly it offers time.

Priceless time.

The chance to remaster old arts.

To do those things I never seem to have time for and notice the small.

If you take the time to see and have the inkling  to look a little closer there’s such beauty in the mundane.

Magic can be found even in the fog of uncertainty if we find the grace enough to see it.

Forced stillness can be therapeutic…

Home can hold the heart and laughter of carefree faith given space enough to be.

Unrushed days and easy nights are in fact perfections.

After all, some times schedules can serve to suffocate.

Isolation it seems minimises complication..permits real rest…

Perhaps the timing I thought so bad is in fact blessed?
It’s not a stretch to see that deep rest could herald deeper healing.

And then I remember…
Last year when life hit so hard I couldn’t breathe and time insisted on ticking by with so many commitments I felt drowned I prayed that it would slow… stop even..long enough to catch my breath.

And here we are.

Time stands almost still once behind our door. Life hit pause and only the garden changes around us.

This time around I’ll seek the joy in the mess.
I’ll resist the urge to be swayed by the trembling of all around us…
I’ll stay on my knees and hold tight to heavens hand when fear creeps back.

I’ll embrace the wait with faith enough to know healing is hers and we’ll rise again.

We may be shaken and bruised a little but refined some more and stronger somehow for our trouble.

Patience is an art form that it seems I have time enough to learn.

 

 

Ashes



It is possible to live at the bottom..exist at basement level…waste a life holding onto fakery..projecting to the world what isn’t.

Fear and her lover Pride seek to keep us beaten down and stuck. Twisted ,contorted ,deformed and devoured by the lies they spin and we are burnt away to ashes in the inferno they create. 

They lock us into cycles that do nothing but shackle us and snatch light from our days.

I guess to find a life again one must let go of everything you thought it would be and jump eyes wide open into the uncertainty of tomorrow.

It takes muscle to find courage and face fear head on.

Truth is strength, its kryptonite to pride.

Truth shatters pride crushing it till all that’s left is raw integrity lying amongst the dust.

It creates breathing room for new beginnings .  

Honesty is owning mistakes..shouldering the weight and lifting it higher.

Forgiveness I’ve found holds keys to freedom… It gives a soul wings to soar.

Humility makes for lighter hearts..it climbs ladders that pride never could.

After all you cant remedy what you won’t acknowledge.
Can’t rebuild with broken glass…

I’m learning healing comes at dust level. When there’s nothing left to hold. Nothing to lose.

Ashes are where it’s at.

So in this upside-down existence, Im finding destruction is building.
Chaos  life-giving. 
Pain is the beginning of healings walk.
Dust and even scattered ashes are heaven blessed.


Divine love breathes hope into hopeless spaces.. and nothing is beyond mercies reach .

Honesty is everything. For there is nothing without her light.

…And in her glow we are found so beautifully broken that this bottom we have hit signals that the only way from here is up.

 

 

 

 

 

Hindsight

If I had it all to do over again.. I’d write a different story. The plot twists would remain the same I guess, I had no control over them anyway, but I think perhaps Id handle it all differently.

Hindsight is 20/20 or so they say and if I only knew then what I know now. Maybe I wouldn’t be sitting where I sit. Life in limbo is not so fun.

In hindsight….being everything to everyone left little space held for me, for us, for them.
Spread so thin I got lost amongst the load…but this is what I know,
its how I walked wounded..
This is my survival story.

Empathy imbalance is costly. I mastered in needing to belong…but found belonging nowhere.

Boundaries have never been my strength…

I’m learning.

I guess when life is chaos you control what you can in order to feel some sort of comfort. These shoulders carried more then they should.
These hands held to tightly when they should have loosened their grip.

Maybe if I saw the pain within and recognised those wounds as not unlike my own Id have been less quick to pick up the weight, less willing to be  trampled under the need to please.

If only I saw what was truly behind the masks, the walls perhaps I would have connected differently having held insight to meet the need.
I’d have loved differently perhaps … Less surface skating but brave and risk loss to go deep, instead just existing holding pace.

At very least I’d not have been so effortlessly deceived.
But perhaps this is how he walks wounded…
His survival story.

 

I guess though we can only know what we know..and give out of what we have to give.
Running on empty could never ever be enough.


Had I perception of the hidden depths then perhaps we would never have drifted so far along these roads that led to the edge.
Or perhaps never had begun at all.

Having never known whole ourselves how could we recognise the depth of dysfunction?  But you can only know what you know…
This is how we walked wounded.
This is our survival story.

Knowing now what I missed then… Id tell my former self to let it fall…step back and allow the crash…not fear the mess but embrace its power to herald change , eyes wide open. Perhaps the earlier the less complex it could have been.Or less final.

I crave a time machine so that I could go back and do it differently.
Notice when I overlooked. See what went unseen… Less played the fool and more foolhardy. More Wiser then wishful.

I loath the wounds,reddish-purple scars that weave the depth of my 38 years, wishing they were not …quite… so… deep.
This is not the first abandon.
Not the first rejection.
This is not the first heartache.
These are old wounds that have been torn open time and time again.

Each repeat more shattering then before, each blow leaving the scar more unsightly …

This ache such a part of me imbedded in my soul. It has a way of spinning spells that dictate my every moment.
I have wished this ache away a thousand different ways. 
Dreamed a different story a thousand different days…
But life is no dream and to live there in denial heals nothing…achieving even less… Just more time lost in  fraudulent haze.

Enough life wasted walking wounded.

I crave courage.
To be dauntless
To walk whole.
I want to live life in full colour.
High definition.
Outrageously authentic no matter the cost.

But what’s required here isn’t earthly essence…it isn’t easily understood… I’ve let go the idea that I could change it all..instead learning to trust in the process.
Forgiving the other the damage done is easier than forgiving myself for my own failings.

But perhaps it had to be this way.
Perhaps it’s fundamental to our walk.
Perhaps it was a lesson I had to learn and learn it well I have.

Maybe the story had to roll like this to get where we are going.
Maybe this is where the wounds get healing.
Maybe this is the start of a new story.


And maybe it’s ok if I’m not ok.Not just yet anyways.

Isn’t it enough to know I’m held in hands of grace?

Hindsight while helpful for understanding can be a brutal teacher.
Freedom seems cannot be brought.
I can’t untangle myself or turn back the clock. I wish to God I could…
But heaven knows better than I of how this journey plays out.

I’ve found that forgiveness is freedoms kiss on aching brow…
It’s release…..
Oxygen and medicine all at once.
It’s CPR to a dying heart.
Breathing hope back into these weakened lungs. It’s the strength to put down the anger and lift gaze into tomorrow.

In forgiveness I find my courage..it bleeds refreshment through these veins. Quiets the storms of overwhelm.
Lifts the weight of not being enough.

Hindsight schools me in forgiveness. Leads me back to hope. To faith. To the dreams of age-old yesterdays that seem to light the way into tomorrow.
I am found again in graces embrace.
Still bearing scar tissue..
Still walking wounded,  but a little less so now then before.

 

 

 

 

 

 

She is….(for B ❤)

Impossibly flawed and oh so broken…still she walks as queen.

Head held higher defying the ache inside.

Youd never know the depths of sorrows overcome. She is victorious .

Her integrity is made complete by humilities seasoning.
She is beauty and brokeness all at once.
A masterpiece in the making.
Dust refined into being by the artists hands.

She carries the blue prints of heaven deep in her soul.
Her path is kingdom laid .

The presence of ten thousand angels feed her courage .

She walks encircled.

Wisdom of the ages is at her beck and call.

With each stride made grace pours down and washes the earth beneath her feet.
She is holy and this now holy ground.

Sanctified and sacred.

Her beauty elemental.

Flowing like a current from soul deep…

down rivers of cracked and broken
out her finger tips into the atmosphere.
She’s electric.
Intricate, one of a kind.

Irreplaceable, unforgettable, indefinable.

She cannot and will not be contained. Her soul has swum deeper than any ocean.
Her prayers break through the outer reaches of furthest galaxies.
She is not limited by time and space.

Infinite and wild as any raging sea.

Her faith and compassion stand her tall.
Though she may be knocked down broken she will never be destroyed.
She knows how to rise.
She is master swordsman.

When She lifts her gaze to higher things the heavens are her home.
Loyalty is on her breath..faithful her hearts cry.

She is a master at connection.
Built for depth and real.
A wellspring of hope and light into darkest stratospheres.

 

Grace is her garment.
Peace her shoes.
Truth her battle cry.
Crown of glory adorns her head
Mercy falls from her lips like a waterfall…washing healing over all she encounters.

She speaks the language of  angels.
Her heart is held safe in the hands of the divine.
Honor runs through her veins.

Her eyes behold the unseen.Shes gifted insight into tomorrow.

She lifts her voice with sure authority. She will not be silence.

Created for freedoms call. To advance and not be halted.

Her heart is guarded by discernment. She takes pause, waits for clarity.

She is unrushed and sure footed.
Time and season don’t define her.

Love and belonging is her legacy. Wholeness and completion her birthright.
Freedom her inheritance

Destiny dances in whimsical abandonment before her eyes and shes confident in the script she lives knowing all of heaven goes before her.Testing the way..weaving a path.. orchestrating it all for good.

 

The pursuit of happiness

Seems a lot of people live their life in pursuit of ” happiness ” and compromise anything and everything to attain it. … I’d argue its less about your circumstance and more about recognising the value of what you already have.

Is what you behold weight or blessing? Cause I’m finding blessings are by nature weighty and oh so worth the strain.

 

 

 

Grace upon grace

Grace….how heavy life would be,

how hopeless if not for grace.


Grace brings rebirth.


Renewing..

Grace means it’s not what you bring to the table…. but who you are.


Grace says it’s not all up to you.


Grace turns vulnerability into strength unparalleled.


It’s not the measure of your worth by your accomplishments but the intrinsic value of your soul.


Grace is the gentle whisper that says try again tomorrow.


Grace says that you are worthy of love.


Grace breathes forgiveness, hope and lights up darkest valleys with promise.

Grace says you are enough.

You can overcome.

Grace holds space.. Pauses time. Rewrites legacy.


Grace craves integrity, walks hand in hand with courage to seek honesty in everything.

Grace dissolves shame and fear..

Births hope into the darkest atmospheres.


Grace says there is always hope.