We have PAPER!

I am very happy and relieved to share the news that our printer has enough paper for the first run of The Blood. Hard copies will be available to order in early December. You can still pre-order to reserve your copy. A Christmas deal for you: buy two, get the third free! The eBook is also available through Amazon.

You can preview the prologue here or with the “Look Inside” feature on Amazon (which includes a few chapters as well!).

A blessed Advent to you all!



The Blood eBook

Alas, looks like there’s a paper shortage, which I find both frustrating and ironic, considering we live in a country with A LOT of trees. Not much we can do but surrender to God’s truly mysterious timing.

We hope that we can still offer hard copies before the end of 2021, but in the meantime, we are happy to release the eBook on Amazon. You can catch a sneak peek of the story with the “Look Inside” feature. You can also pre-order hard copies here—buy two and get the third free!

For the eBook:

A Poem: Maranatha

It’s been a long time since I’ve attempted writing poetry. And I’ll be the first to admit I don’t know a thing about what makes for truly good poetry. But I recently picked up Word on Fire’s latest journal on poetry, and curiosity in this art form reawakened. I took my children on a walk through the countryside to enjoy one of the last warm days of autumn, and then I came home and wrote this. Make of it what you will.

these long-suffering fields
air the Christ tasted
take life into
my chest
grain laid down
more alive
life renewed in
darts of blue and white—
searching gold furrows
for grace
to carry them
as this light
carries me
a colorless land
is not dead
but waiting
dreaming of pollen
as I dream
these swells of earth
held in the
mind of God
His Word endures
only breathe
listen to currents
moving over the immovable
watch cattail cotton
not lost
yes, I am fragmented
not lost

Pre-order The Blood!

After a long delay, The Blood is finally ready for publication! Our expected release is late November. We will be offering hard copies, as well as an eBook through Amazon. In the meantime, you have the opportunity to pre-order and secure a copy—or two!

I am very excited to receive your feedback. The writing process took much longer than I anticipated, but I believe the story is better for it. I also believe the story speaks profoundly to our current times. May it bless you deeply!

Go here to pre-order:


Not Invincible

The coolness of the air burns in the middle of my chest. A clarity of light moves over everything, moves through me. I see the leaves as they are—more frail than they appeared a few days ago, before the wind came and lashed the trees about and stole the heat away, before the light changed. And I see myself as I am. Part of this decaying world. I feel it every year, at this time. Summer is not invincible; I am not invincible. I ache for the words to capture the essence of something more beautiful than anything I’ve ever known, something the chill cannot wilt.

Rain is dripping from the sky. I can hear it past the window, like suds bursting. Grass that was crackling yesterday, whirring with grasshoppers, is now drinking deeply and flushing green, a final stand against the coming autumn. My chest burns. There’s nothing to be done but hold the pain there and let it move my heart closer to Home. And then turn my gaze from the silver sky, from the stillness of the trees, and write.

This Earth in Me

I once believed youth was something like a butterfly—a beautiful thing, scaling the skies. But fleeting. Ungrounded. Here one moment, gone the next. One’s gaze must eventually settle on the earth.

But now I believe youth is actually more like the earth itself.

All my memories from my earliest days of womanhood—they’re so sweet they’re painful. And I realize that to lose them would be to lose a part of me. Because they weren’t just adventures. They are my foundation. I am who I am because I walked the Camino, wandered the streets of Nahant, dreamed on the beaches of Prince Edward Island. It was in those places that I truly discovered suffering, healing, peace, joy, and ultimately love—the pieces of every human heart. I found my pieces in the sun, the sea, the sand, the wildflowers. I still wear a pendant of sea glass around my neck, reminding me that those days aren’t just memories—aren’t just fleeting. They are part of me.

This earth in me continues to grow, to bear fruit—though my marriage, my children, our home. And these, like the lupines of the island, draw butterflies to myself. They are only glimpses, nothing I can quite grasp, but as the butterflies rise to places unknown, I remember that there is more than what I’ve known and loved. I am more than who I am.

One day, when I am Home, the pieces of my heart will fuse and I will be whole.

My Children

I remember sitting on the deck at the farm. I was soon to fly away to the place where I truly became a woman. Not yet married, no home to call my own, except the one I was about to leave. My eyes were closed. I was listening to the rush of waves in the trees.

Soon after I found myself standing by the sea, eyes closed, listening to the whispering of leaves in the waves. Childhood far behind me, and yet so close.

Today, I am again sitting on the deck. Today, I am holding my baby boy, and in his breathing I hear both the leaves and the waves. The past and the future are fused in this small body—everything I dreamed he would be, and more. Yes, day by day he becomes greater than the child I hoped to hold. Like his sister.

I wrote about them, pictured myself wading through creeks with them, picking berries with them. And here they are. Blueberry eyes and honey hair. We live a different life than the one I dreamed about. Our home is not a rustic cabin. But we live by a farmer’s field. White owls ghost through our yard in the twilight and hoot by moonlight. Deer fold their legs and rest beneath our trees.

We spend hours outside together, browning in the prairie sun, dawdling in time with the small-town pace. Every now and then, we find treasure; we carry a bird nest home. There are sweet apples and tart cherries to pick. My girl skips through puddles and fills her boots with murky water. At the playground, my boy climbs up and down, up and down. He eats sand and grins. We wait for the train to come thundering by, a riot of graffiti. And when we pass through the cemetery on our way home, we always keep our eyes on the giant evergreens that brood over the gravestones—hoping to glimpse the Great Horned owl. Even if we whisper, there’s no hearing the silent beat of his wings. Better luck next time.

No, it isn’t what I dreamed. And I don’t mind at all.

The Tree and the Sequel

Dear readers,

I haven’t blogged in several months due to a few reasons, particularly one. God seemed to dry up the inspiration for shorter pieces so that I could focus hardcore on completing the sequel to The Tree. 

Even before The Tree was in print, ideas for The Blood were brewing. The story has evolved dramatically since I first began writing it. I never thought it would take this long, but I truly believe God’s timing is for the best. I can’t express how I excited I am to be so close to sharing The Blood with you. I believe the story is powerful, and I pray it will touch many lives.

While The Blood is being prepared for publication, we are taking this time to finally release an eBook for The Tree. Took us a while—but better late than never, as they say. Now is the perfect time to either read The Tree for the first time or brush up on the story before the release of The Blood.

Check it out!

The Tree and the Sequel


Garden Never Yet Known

This evening, the world is spellbound by fog. I can’t see the field where rose-gold light often pools in the morning and the farmer’s cattle nose mounds of hay. No colors of twilight to gild the decaying trees. Earlier, the sky spun out fat, airy snowflakes, bits of cotton floating down to soften Earth’s surface. Must have been an hour that I rocked and rocked in the wicker chair and held your sister to my chest, her eyes blinking slowly at the falling sky, even as I felt you swimming in my womb. 

Those are the moments that remind me how beautiful is this gift called motherhood. You, embraced by me as much as Rosé was, with me as much as Rosé was, even though I can’t yet see you. I think unborn life this second time is even more surreal than the first. We know the joy Rosé has brought us—immense joy—and it’s difficult to fathom how another child will gift us with yet more joy, but in a different form. What will set you apart from your sister, and how will you mirror her? What beauty will you unfold in our life through your life?

Somehow, I will again fall in love in a moment and come to know the secret pathways of a garden never yet known by anyone but God, an unrepeatable soul. I am moved to stunned silence at the responsibility your existence—and Rosé’s existence—demands of your father and me. You wouldn’t be if we hadn’t aided the Creator in His craft. We’ve set you into eternal motion. You’ll never not be. You will know God and His love—greater than any pain—because you now are. 

In a sense, I feel as if I am Mary, carrying miraculous life in my womb. How can this be?

You exist, sweet nameless one, because even before I, your mother, existed, He was. 

The Blood—And Your Help

I never thought it would take me this long to write the sequel to The Tree, but here we are.

The Blood is close to finished. I’ve done a ton of rewriting, a ton of editing, just as I did with The Tree. The time and effort I’ve put in have been so worth it. But I know the story can be still better. 

For a long time now, I’ve been thinking I need a professional editor I can rely on to help me polish up my work to be the best it can be. What’s stopped me from investigating this avenue before? Not knowing where to look—but also, quite frankly, the cost. 

Recently, however, I discovered a safe online business that’s provided me access to trustworthy editors. And then it hit me: if this is the next step God is calling me to take with my writing, I don’t need to let the cost stop me. He will open His wallet. And that’s where my readers come in.

If you think this is something you might feel called to help me with, please click on the link below, which will take you to my GoFundMe campaign. And please don’t hesitate to share this with your friends, as I greatly appreciate whatever help is given. 

God bless you!