When Prayer Becomes the Floor You Fall On

Good morning friends,

I have a message this morning. Its my birthday and I have a lot on my heart- for others - let me explain because you cant understand until i share the context of the heart and the posture of where this comes from.

There are seasons that bring you to your knees before you even understand what is happening. Not the ordinary hard days, but the kind of crisis that knocks you straight down to the ground and leaves you face to face with the deepest truth you know. Those are the moments when you meet God in places you never expected.

For me, it happened on a carpeted floor during one of the hardest chapters of my life. A storm that shook my world in every direction. Legal pressure, spiritual heaviness, financial strain, emotional pain, all of it pressing in at once. I could not hold myself up. I did not try to. I went to the floor because that was the only place that could hold me. In my own body, and resources i was helpless and vulnerable exposed to something that shook me.

I remember the feel of the carpet against my face. I remember the way my tears soaked right into it. I remember the heaviness in my chest as I yelled, yes, yelled prayers that were not pretty or polished. They were raw. Desperate. They were the kind that rise from a place deeper than words. If there was an X ray ability to show the soul this is where theses prayers came from. I told God I could not breathe under the weight of this and didn’t want to -I was angry and confused but I surrendered ……everything, not because I was brave, but because I was broken. AGAIN!

And here is the part that still humbles me. God met me there. Not in a magical moment. Not in a dramatic rescue. He met me in the carpet right there on the living room floor. He met me in the lowest, most surrendered place of my life. He did not lift me out right away. Instead, He strengthened me from the inside, slowly, quietly, gently. He forged something in me I did not know I would need. A backbone made from His strength, not mine. A steadiness that could hold weight I never imagined.

Romans 12 became my breath during that time. Be joyful in hope. Patient in affliction. Faithful in prayer. Those words held me like a hand on my back. To be faithful in prayer even when the prayer is nothing but tears. Faithful in prayer even when the carpet is the only altar you have. Faithful in prayer even when heaven feels far away and in my insecurity’s feels judgy.

Looking back now, I am proud of the woman I was in that moment on the floor. She was stripped of every plan, every illusion of control, every place to hide. All she had was God. And somehow that was enough. More than enough. That was the beginning of strength that did not come from me at all.

I can tell most of the time when I meet someone who has had those same encounters with God and those who never have. Both are a blessing in their own way. Those who have never fallen that low often carry a lightness that reminds me of what innocence feels like. And those who have been face down nose mashed into the carpet with heaven pressed close carry a depth and that only comes from surviving something that should have taken them out. You can feel it in the way they listen. You can hear it in the weight of their words.

Maybe you have had your own carpet moments. Maybe you know exactly what it feels like to surrender everything. If so, hear this. Heaven bends low in those places. The strength you rise with will not be the strength you fell with. It will be something deeper. Something holy. Something that stays. I promise you that.

There is a strange and beautiful joy that grows in a person who has been rebuilt by God. It is not loud. It is not forced. It is a quiet joy that understands where hope really comes from. It is joy without resentment. Joy without bitterness. Joy that knows what it cost to stand up again, yet still chooses gratitude over grief.

That kind of joy does not deny the pain. It honors it, It says this shaped me. It says the fire that tried to break me ended up forging my backbone instead. It says brave is not a feeling. Brave is a formation.

friends this was what was on my heart. If you have been broken and surrendered i celebrate you! if you haven’t then you're probably not even reading this right now and I pray that you will let God strengthen you in a way that will remain.

Romans 12:12 (a little birthday God wink) calls us to have joy in hope, patience in hardship, and faithfulness in prayer, even in the hardest seasons. Especially then.

Emotional Labor and the Holidays: What No One Says Out Loud

Sometimes it feels like you’re the only one keeping the rhythm of a relationship alive, carefully winding the clock so it keeps ticking. Tick tick tick, wind and repeat, because if you don’t, who will. Maybe you’ve even caught yourself wondering why you always have to start the conversations, why you’re always the one saying hey something feels off. When your feelings only get noticed after you name them out loud, that’s not partnership…romantic, familial, or friendship. That’s emotional labor.

Emotional labor is heavy. It’s the quiet job of holding space while hoping your own heart will be held in return. It’s the slow ache of initiating, giving, explaining, clarifying, while waiting, sometimes far too long, for acknowledgment. Over time, it leaves you feeling tired, unseen, and lonely, Or even worse – feel rejected even in the company of people you love.

And then the holidays come.

Holidays are a magnifying glass. They shine light on every crack you thought you’d patched over. They stir up old patterns, old roles, expectations. Suddenly what should be a season of warmth and togetherness shows up dressed in anxiety and fear, a holiday wardrobe many of us carry, even though we wish we didn’t.

Now is not the time to pick apart the past or interrogate every wound. If it feels like a bruise, acknowledge it, hold it gently, and keep moving. Pause….Let it be what it is without letting it dictate the whole day. Breathe…Move forward by tending to your own heart. Notice your needs, protect your energy, and create small, intentional spaces where you CAN breathe. Healing isn’t about erasing pain, it’s about learning to walk with it while still stepping toward light, softness, and connection that actually nourishes you.

I wish this weren’t true but, healing doesn’t move in a straight line, and it sure doesn’t move in sync. You can be doing your work, while someone else is still standing in the wreckage of an old chapter. That’s okay. It is even when you don’t want to admit it. Your growth doesn’t need to wait for their timing. True connection isn’t about moving at the same pace; it’s about staying steady in your own heart…  offering care without picking up the weight that isn’t yours.

Emotional labor should never be one sided. Healthy relationships of any kind have a shared rhythm, where both people show up not just physically, but emotionally and mentally. It’s the difference between dragging the truth into the light and letting it shine because it’s seen and held by both hearts.

When you’re the only one doing the emotional labor, a gap forms. You feel the distance long before anyone names it. How you respond to that gap, whether you try to bridge it or step back, is your choice, as long as it comes from reflection and a clear sense of what you want moving forward.

This season, be gentle with yourself. Notice where your energy is going and whether it’s reciprocated. You deserve connection that doesn’t cost you your light. Sometimes the bravest way forward is a quiet walk home to yourself, carrying your truth without needing to drag it, allowing your heart to be seen and honored exactly as it is.

Holding Space for Yourself During the Holidays

Notice your energy: Pay attention to what lifts you and what drains you. It’s okay to step back from anything that isn’t reciprocal.
Set gentle boundaries: Saying no to extra obligations or heavy conversations protects your heart.
Create small retreats: A quiet moment with tea, a journal prompt, or a short walk can reset your spirit.
Reconnect with what grounds you: Music, scripture, a candle, or a familiar ritual can help you feel centered, even if others are distracted or distant.
Give yourself permission to receive: Let love and kindness land without performing, proving, or judging yourself for it.
Honor your own pace: Healing isn’t linear. It’s okay to move with softness while others are still navigating their wounds.
Practice gratitude with grace: Notice the small good things, the moments that offer light, and let them remind you that growth is happening, even in quiet ways.

Soulful Reflections for the Weary and the Brave.

Some mornings start with a deep breath and a to-do list that already feels full. My inner circle are walking through some hard things, the plates keep spinning, and all I can do is pray, sip my coffee, and trust that what I can give is enough .

Fear still tries to sneak in. It reminds me how little I control. But faith keeps showing up steady, grounded, whispering louder. God is still good. He is still near. None of this surprises Him.

Sometimes life challenges us in ways we would never choose. Sometimes our children struggle on every level, sometimes we sit in hospital waiting rooms beside loved ones, and sometimes the weight of the world presses down in moments we cannot control. These are not the “desirable difficulties” or the ones we choose intentionally to grow, yet growth happens anyway.

Desirable difficulties teach us that struggle is not the enemy. When we lean into challenge whether chosen or imposed we stretch, we adapt, and we discover strength we didn’t know we had. The effort of recalling knowledge, practicing a new skill, or facing discomfort intentionally builds mastery over time. The effort of showing up for our family, regulating our own emotions, and staying present in hard moments builds something equally powerful: resilience, compassion, patience, and clarity.

There is beauty in this paradox: that the very difficulties we resist often shape us the most. The intentional struggles we choose cultivate skill, the unchosen struggles cultivate character. Both teach us the same lesson: strength, growth, and grace emerge not in comfort, but in the friction of life.

Sometimes we don’t value difficulties at first. Sometimes we only see their lesson in hindsight. But whether we asked for them or not, they leave us richer, wiser, braver, and more alive.

And even when it feels heavy, even when fear or fatigue whispers, we remember: he got us. There is a steady hand beneath the struggle, and in that steadiness, we rise.

I’ve been listening to The Let Them Theory by Mel Robbins and pairing it with time in my Bible. It’s been the right mix….one teaching me to release what’s not mine to hold, the other reminding me Who carries it all. Somewhere between those two, I’ve found acceptance and grace. A great season of learning-

Learning-This season isn’t about perfection or balance. It’s about trust. It’s about letting a few plates wobble without guilt or shame and remembering that strength doesn’t always mean pushing harder it often looks like resting in what’s already true. Letting others step in ….

So breathe deeper. move slower. remind your body and heart: we’re not alone, and we’ve got this because He’s got us!!!

He got us! “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” Isaiah 41:10

Faith isn’t the absence of fear. It’s the courage to keep showing up, grounded in grace and guided by truth. Even here, especially here, when everything in every direction seems uncertain and negative or scary you’ve got this.

with love my friends, family and fellow brave souls!

Burn Bright, Burn Steady: Balancing Fire and Fuel in Life and Love

We all carry a fire within us. It’s our passion, our drive, our energy to create, speak, lead, and love. Fire is powerful it can warm a home or burn it down. Left unchecked, it leaps and burns out quickly. Without fuel, even the brightest flame fades.

Fuel is different. It’s the steady wood stacked by hand, the quiet preparation, the discipline that no one sees. It’s rest, boundaries, intention, and wisdom. Fuel doesn’t shine by itself, but without it, fire has no chance to last.

Many of us live in extremes, burning too hot until exhaustion forces us to stop, or hoarding our fuel, waiting for the “perfect time” to light a match. The truth is, we need both. BALANCE. Passion without grounding is chaos. Preparation without action is stagnation.

The life we’re longing for comes in the balance of both fire and fuel. Passion and discipline. Energy and rest.

I’ve realized this in my own relationships…. I am fire, bright, moving, often restless. My spouse is fuel, steady and grounding. I depend on his constancy to steady me when I run too fast or burn too hot. And sometimes, when I notice moments where his steadiness falters, I feel threatened, almost like my flame is at risk. It has shown me how deeply fire and fuel are connected. Fire needs fuel to endure, and fuel needs fire to come alive. Both matter. Both require care.

But this isn’t just true in marriage it shows up everywhere:

Work & Calling: Fire is ambition and vision, the drive to move things forward. Fuel is planning, rest, and the discipline to pace ourselves. Without balance, we burn out or drift aimlessly.

Parenting & Caregiving: Fire is fierce love and devotion, the energy to show up. Fuel is patience, boundaries, and the wisdom to pause. Children (and loved ones) need both our spark and our steadiness.

Faith & Spirituality: Fire is zeal, worship, the spark of belief. Fuel is prayer, quiet, daily practices that sustain faith when the fire doesn’t feel as bright.

Friendships & Community: Fire is laughter, shared adventures, connection. Fuel is consistency, listening, forgiving, and showing up even when it isn’t convenient.

Personal Well-being: Fire is momentum—working out, creating, chasing goals. Fuel is recovery, sleep, solitude, nourishment, reflection.

Everywhere we look, the same truth rises….. fire alone won’t last, and fuel alone just waits.

Here are a few questions to reflect on:

Where in your life are you burning too hot?

Where are you holding back, saving fuel you never use?

What practices could help you steady your fire so it lasts?

Who in your life is your fuel and how can you honor their role?

You are not meant to burn out or burn everything down. You are meant to burn steady bringing warmth, light, and guidance to others. Your flame doesn’t need to be the biggest, just the one that endures.

What Can You Do Today to Endure?

Choose one or two to practice:

1. Pause before reacting. Take three slow breaths before you speak or decide.

2. Drink water first. Before the rush, hydrate.

3. Name your top three. Write down the three most important things for today and let the rest go.

4. Step outside. Five minutes of fresh air can reset your flame. GO TOUCH GRASS!

5. Fuel your body. Eat something nourishing instead of skipping a meal.

6. Protect a pocket of quiet. Ten minutes with no phone, no noise.

7. Say no once. Protect your boundaries by refusing one thing that drains you.

8. Reach for gratitude. Write down or say out loud three things that are good right now.

9. Move your body gently. Stretch, walk, dance shift your energy instead of stalling it.

10. End the day with release. Write, pray, or simply whisper, “It’s not all mine to carry.”

You got this ~ Burn Bright, Burn Steady: Balancing Fire and Fuel in Life and Love

The Art of Curiosity: Building Confidence by Trying New Things

I’ve never been the kind of woman who sticks to just one hobby or one passion. I’ve always been pulled toward the unknown, toward the thrill of trying something I’ve never done before. Over the years, I’ve learned to sew and crochet, bake bread, decorate cakes, paint, play guitar, write songs, fish in the ocean, in a creek, and in a quiet lil pond. Once, I even rebuilt a carburetor just by reading a manual, not because I was bored, but because I had to be resourceful. That skill, the ability to figure things out when I needed to, has carried me through my life.

I’ve discovered that every time I take on something new, I grow just a little braver. It’s not about becoming an expert. It’s about realizing, if I can do this, I can do more than I think.

Just recently, I bought a book nook (insert giggles) one of those intricate little worlds that lights up when you’re done building it. When I opened the box, I felt instantly overwhelmed by all the tiny pieces and steps. But instead of pushing it aside for good, I reminded myself that it’s okay to let things be “incomplete.” When I find time, I’ll finish it. For now, I get to enjoy the excitement of knowing something beautiful is being built, piece by piece. Isn’t that how curiosity works? We don’t need to rush to the end…..we just have to start. Curiosity is a quiet teacher. It whispers, Just try. It doesn’t demand perfection. It doesn’t care if the stitches are crooked, the cake leans, or the song is off-key. What it cares about is that you dared to show up, to be teachable, to give yourself permission to start. And in that process, confidence is born not because you mastered the skill, but because you proved to yourself that you could learn.

I enjoy upscaling, repurposing, and finding joy in the little things because they remind me that beauty doesn’t have to be expensive or complicated. Confidence grows the same way…..piece by piece, through simple acts of curiosity.

Maybe that’s what I hope others see: you don’t have to wait for the perfect time, the perfect class, or the perfect tools. You just need to give yourself permission to begin. The moment you take that first step, you’ve already won.

So pick up the paintbrush. Try the recipe. Learn the song. Fix the thing that feels impossible. Curiosity is about being awake, alive, and willing to believe that you are capable of more than you know.

3 Ways to Build Confidence Through Curiosity

Start Small but Start Now

You don’t need a big project or a perfect plan. Bake a loaf of bread. Paint a single canvas. Fix something in your home. Small wins add up and remind you that you are capable.

Let Go of Perfection. Mistakes are proof that you’re learning. Every lopsided cake or clumsy guitar chord builds resilience. Confidence doesn’t come from flawless execution it comes from persistence.

Pay attention to the little nudges that make you say, I’ve always wanted to try that.

Whether it’s gardening, writing, or learning to fish, trust your curiosity and let it lead you to unexpected joy.

I will post a picture of my book nook when I get it done. Have a blessed week and let me know what your curious about! I would love to hear all about what you have learned.

Micro Habits That Help Me Stay Sane (Even When Life Is Full to the Brim)

Life is full right now. My husband and I both work full-time. I’m finishing a book I hope to publish soon, and I’m launching a small business from the ground up. We’re navigating the emotional and logistical demands of three aging parents, five adult children, and seven grandchildren ranging in age from just two days old to twelve.

The energy it takes to launch something is completely different than simply maintaining it. Add in the unpredictability of real life and the mental load can feel endless. But even in the middle of all this, I don’t feel burnt out or bitter. And it’s not because I’ve figured out some secret. It’s because I’ve started practicing micro habits that help me stay grounded.

Let’s jump into the ones that have made the biggest difference.

1. Start the Day With One Completed Task

Not a long to-do list. Not a major accomplishment. Just one thing. Make the bed. Drink a full glass of water. Put away the basket of laundry at the foot of the bed. Wipe down the kitchen counters before heading out the door.

It doesn’t really matter what it is. The point is to start the day with something finished. It builds momentum and reminds you that you’re capable, even before the day pulls you in ten different directions.

2. Write it Down

There was a time I journaled every morning. I still love it, I’m just in a season where my energy is focused on writing my book. But even now, when I jot something down whether it’s a thought, a prayer, a reminder, or a dream, it brings me clarity. It makes me feel like I’m meeting myself on the page instead of losing myself in the chaos.

3. Create a Sacred Space

This doesn’t have to be elaborate. But wherever you spend time your office, a favorite chair, the corner of your porch….make sure it feels good.

Add a blanket you love, a candle that makes you feel at peace, or a lamp that gives off the kind of light that makes you want to exhale. Even if it’s just a small space, let it serve as a sanctuary. You deserve a place that welcomes you.

4. Plan the Week Like

Sundays are my power day. I meal plan, I check my calendar, and I move items from my “Get Sh*t Done” list to actual time blocks.

This isn’t about being rigid. Its frontloading decisions and separates decision from action. Reducing stress and decision fatigue. When I already know what I’m eating on Wednesday or when I’ve carved out time to write, rest or email someone back, I don’t waste energy wondering when it will get done.

It also gives me space to flex. I work in foster care, and the unexpected happens all the time. But planning ahead means I’m not constantly reacting ….I’m simply rearranging.

5. Feel the Feels-Physically

I know this might sound odd, but hear me out: one of my favorite micro habits lately has been hugging more. Holding my husband’s hand. Giving my grandkids a squeeze. Even just sitting under a weighted blanket when I need to decompress.

when was the last time you were hugged? how did you feel?

We were made for connection. If hugs aren’t your thing, consider something simple that gives your nervous system that same "ahh" feeling warm tea, cozy socks, soft music, or that blanket that makes you feel safe.

6. Embrace the Imperfect

This might be the most important one. Stop chasing the perfect morning routine, the perfectly clean house, or the perfect family dinner. Sometimes the kitchen is a mess, you forgot to buy groceries, and everyone’s eating cereal out of mismatched bowls.

It’s OK. That’s life. It’s not supposed to be polished all the time. And honestly, those imperfect moments are often the ones we remember most.

Final Thought
The season we’re in is full, but it’s also rich. These micro habits aren’t about productivity for productivity’s sake. They’re about peace. About clarity. About presence.

I’d love to hear from you….what habits have helped you stay grounded when life feels like a lot? Leave a comment or send me a message. I read every single one.

With you in the beautiful mess,
Jennifer

Making memories with less….is always more

Memories from when my kids were little still stick with me sharp, funny, sacred.
We didn’t need theme parks or fancy gear.

We had imagination, a busted lawn mower, and zero sense of self-preservation. That lawnmower had the governor ripped off, we also had a borrowed golf cart with no brakes, and a dirt road that dared us to go faster.

My kids called it Redneck Mario Kart and once we hit that hill (a little hill but still a hill) , it was on.

Bugs in our teeth. Tires going bald. No stopping even when we probably should have.

We’d barrel down like we had nothing to lose and everything to laugh about.
It was messy. It was wild. It was 100% unforgettable.

That was our kind of adventure.

No manuals. No helmet. Just creativity, courage, and a full send into the next bend.

Vacations weren’t always in the budget- okay, they rarely were.
But instead of boarding passes, we collected aluminum cans so we could send the kids to 4-H camp most years.

That in itself was an adventure sticky bags of soda cans, trips to the scrap yard,

cheering every dollar, we earned like we’d won the lottery. We made hard times look easy.

Becoming Grandma? That Was Camp Jamma Time.

When I became a grandmother, I kept that spirit alive.
We didn’t go to Disney. We went to Camp Jamma- right in the backyard.

Camp Jamma was a vibe. We built campfires in the fire pit. Roasted marshmallows until they caught flame (and ate them anyway). Read books like Put Me in the Zoo . We made zoo animals out of paper plates-paint, glue, googly eyes, the whole nine yards.
And the next day, we’d actually go to the zoo.

We’d take pictures, eat ice cream, and pretend we were on safari sticky-fingered and wide-eyed. It wasn’t fancy. But it was fun.
And my grandbabies didn’t care that it wasn’t a resort.

They just cared that we were together.

Looking back now, I realize-
We didn’t just invent fun. We invented legacy.
Skinned knees and belly laughs.
Camp Jamma and before that it was aluminum cans. Bugs in your teeth and no brakes on the hill.

The kind of memories that don’t cost much but live forever.

Some of life’s best lessons are learned when you keep going, with a blown tire and a peanut butter sandwich in your hand.

“Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, ‘This is the way; walk in it.’” - Isaiah 30:21

God doesn’t always lead us to luxury. Sometimes He leads us to the lawnmower path, to the paper plate zoo,
to a backyard fire that becomes a holy place.

Adventure isn’t about arrival. It’s about showing up. So keep rolling.
 Even if you swallow a bug.

If you liked this, you can read more about these adventures in my upcoming book! stay tuned!