There is a big difference between a holding pattern and a liminal space. They both involve waiting, but the difference is in the quality and purpose of that waiting.

When I left New Zealand for Budapest, I stopped calling New Zealand home, but it definitely wasn’t from lack of love.

If you know me, you know I’m not a details person. But in order to get where we need to go, they have to be sorted. So here I sit, rifling through papers, praying I don’t miss something important that could cost us dearly.

Since I’m thrice-coffeed (and my ramblings in this state can be hard to follow), I thought I’d make a small list of the things I’ve been noticing during our present wanderings. Scroll at your leisure, coffee optional, I shall not partake in another lest I completely write myself off.

God is always directing, pivoting, and clearing ways for us when there seems to be no way, using painful situations to bring out that deep character that comes from abiding in Him.

I’m finding hope in the idea of a new balance—one where a steady and happy home life can thrive alongside ministry.

Now, I find myself on the precipice of another loss, feeling that familiar guilt and shame for my grief.

I don’t believe God stops talking. I think He’s speaking right now. But the noise of life and the voices in our head get in the way, and His whisper goes unheard.

Miss you a lot. Funny how we don’t say that over the phone. But there it is. There are a few people in my life who would give a kidney to be able to say that to their dad a couple more times. So I wanted to say it now.

My feelings were being confronted with truth, and truth trumps feelings.

In a job where we think we’re here to do good and bring God, light, and the gospel, what I’m finding is that there is a concurrent journey of God bringing light to the darkest recesses of my heart.

Shocking confession: About a month before I was married to my husband, I went on a date with another man.

Well, this month has been a whirlwind and I’m in need of a fairytale ending, preferably not Grimms.

Never in my wildest imaginations could I have dreamed up what this year held for both me and my family.

Living like there is more to life is deeply connected to living well now. And while death brings that perspective, so can dancing.

It’s one thing having to lie in the bed we made, but every morning Minna comes bounding out of her room toward ours for a quick snuggle in that bed, literally and figuratively.

I just want to be the force of positivity and happiness that people love to be around, but I feel like the downbuzz. I feel more like a Dwight than a Jim and it’s really starting to bother me.

At this moment, the decision to lift my eyes from my reading resulted in the feelings of goodbye and departure starting to bubble up inside.

It’s been a rough season. And it didn’t take long for the cracks to start showing.

Hint: We’re all jaded, frumpy, irrelevant Bible bashers.