Living amidst the brokenness we find ourselves in this side of heaven inspired this year’s Ronald McDonald House Fundraiser design, but the concept of surviving personal wildfires turned out to be far more poignant than I ever anticipated; our wildfire season wasn’t over yet.

These past few months have been intentionally quiet while I’ve been allowing space for it all. To be honest, I don’t know what’s next, and friends, what a refreshing feeling that is.

Instead of handing God an itinerary for my life, I’m reaching out with open hands and saying “Show me.”

I've felt off all day – the quiet rain and rolling thunder echoing a melancholy restlessness in my soul. I've worked through a list of my best self-care tricks, but even so, the weight hasn't budged. I even started crying while petting Nori this morning, but couldn't define why.

There are moments where it seems impossible that the sun would have the audacity to shine once more.

And yet, we rise.

You don’t have to say anything, buy anything, post anything, or do anything unless it serves you. Your experience won’t look like anyone else’s version of Mother’s Day, and it likely won’t look like the Instagram, Pinterest, or Facebook highlight real either. Today might be more about the word 'and'.

In the wake of miscarrying August it became clear that I needed space for my soul to catch its breath. The past few months have been intentionally quiet. When I chose ‘Revival’ as our word for 2020, I never pictured revival being found in months of silence.

But God.