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The people of God were in exile.⁠ Displaced.⁠ The people of God were in exile.⁠
Displaced.⁠
Unraveled.⁠
Living under foreign rule in Babylon—a land not their own.⁠
This wasn’t the promise they were clinging to.⁠
⁠
They slept with their shoes on.⁠
Waiting to leave.⁠
Waiting for the word that it was time to go home.⁠
⁠
Prophets—false ones—told them it would be soon.⁠
“Don’t get too comfortable,” they said.⁠
So they didn’t.⁠
⁠
No roots.⁠
No gardens.⁠
No homes.⁠
Just… waiting.⁠
⁠
But then came a word from the Lord.⁠
⁠
Not the one they wanted.⁠
Not the one they’d been hoping for.⁠
⁠
Build houses.⁠
Plant gardens.⁠
Raise your children.⁠
Seek the peace of the city I’ve placed you in.⁠
You’re going to be here a while.⁠
⁠
Seventy years.⁠
Long enough that most of them wouldn’t live to see home again.⁠
Long enough to make staying feel like a death sentence.⁠
⁠
But it wasn’t punishment.⁠
It was purpose.⁠
⁠
And then, after that hard word—after the call to settle and stay—God speaks the words we so often quote out of context:⁠
⁠
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord.⁠
“Plans to prosper you and not to harm you,⁠
plans to give you a future and a hope.” (Jeremiah 29:11)⁠
⁠
The plans came after the exile.⁠
The promise came through the staying.⁠
⁠
Sometimes the holiest thing we can do is stay.⁠
Stay planted.⁠
Stay faithful.⁠
Stay present.⁠
⁠
Even when it’s not where we wanted to be.⁠
Even when it’s not what we thought we signed up for.⁠
⁠
Jesus didn’t just send His disciples out.⁠
He told them to go with nothing.⁠
No backup.⁠
No certainty.⁠
Just faith and dependence.⁠
⁠
And when persecution scattered the early church like seeds in the wind, the gospel exploded across the world.⁠
⁠
But it started with obedience.⁠
With trusting that wherever God sends us—or keeps us—He is working.⁠
⁠
Sometimes exile is where the roots finally grow.⁠
Sometimes staying is where the real healing begins.⁠
Sometimes foreign places become holy ground.⁠
⁠
So if God has asked you to stay—⁠
in the place,⁠
in the pain,⁠
in the unknown…⁠
⁠
Go get some seeds for your garden.⁠
He’s not done with this place yet.
Grateful doesn’t even begin to cover it. This w Grateful doesn’t even begin to cover it.

This weekend, we returned to Albuquerque—where our story first began. I had the honor of speaking at a women’s retreat, and Matt preached both Sunday services the following day.

It was holy ground.

We stood in rooms filled with people, some of whom have known us since before the wedding vows, before the kids, before the wilderness seasons that completely undid us. 

The weekend wasn’t just sweet—it was sacred.

God did something we couldn’t have orchestrated if we tried. And as we flew home, we kept glancing at each other with that wide-eyed can you believe it? look, stunned by His kindness, the church’s compassion and so much encouragement.

Sometimes, healing doesn’t come in grand gestures but in quiet moments where you begin to see the Lord breathing life once again. 

Inhale. 

Exhale. 

New life came through a million hugs from strangers….and long lost life long friends alike.

A whispered, “We heard the Lord through you.”
An invitation to speak again…to show up again. 

To step out in courage again.

We are dreaming once more…and it feels…so so….lovely.

May we all be people who offer that kind of healing. The kind that reminds others of who they really are. And Whose they really are.

Praise Him for every unseen root that bears visible fruit even through the wind and storm—in His time, in His way…no matter the season.

Thank you to @nccabq and all who came this weekend with Spirit filled presence and life giving encouragement. Thank you @davedechape for trusting us with this space. What an honor to have sought the Lord together with you! 

It is well with my soul!
Train your body—yes.⁠ But train your heart too Train your body—yes.⁠
But train your heart too.⁠
⁠
Let your faith be strengthened in surrender.⁠
Let your obedience be the priority of what grows strongest.
⁠
Because the strongest people aren’t always the fittest.⁠
Or the most disciplined.⁠
⁠
Our hope doesn’t come from abs or anti-inflammatory diets.⁠
⁠
Our hope is Jesus.⁠
Always Jesus.⁠
And He’s enough—for both body and soul.
I was told it would never happen.⁠ That motherho I was told it would never happen.⁠
That motherhood—the thing I longed for more than anything—⁠
would likely remain just that: a longing.⁠
⁠
We struggled with infertility for years.⁠
Month after month.⁠
Prayer after prayer.⁠
Hope held with trembling hands.⁠
⁠
And while that season broke me open in ways I never imagined,⁠
it also shaped me in ways I never want to forget.⁠
⁠
Because now—by the mercy of God—I’m a mother to seven children.⁠
Seven.⁠
⁠
And I don’t say that lightly.⁠
I say it with tears in my eyes⁠
and the ache of waiting still tucked inside my heart.⁠
⁠
But here’s what I’ve learned:⁠
Infertility isn’t just part of my story.⁠
It’s part of the story.⁠
⁠
Some of the greatest women in Scripture—⁠
Hannah, Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel, Samson’s mother, the Shunammite, Elizabeth—⁠
they all carried this same pain.⁠
The ache of longing.⁠
The shame of silence.⁠
The sorrow of empty arms.⁠
⁠
And yet, God met each one.⁠
Not just at the moment of breakthrough—⁠
but in the ache itself.⁠
⁠
He heard.⁠
He saw.⁠
He remembered.⁠
⁠
And I believe He’s still doing that today.⁠
⁠
The miracle isn’t just the child.⁠
It’s the woman becoming.⁠
It’s the soul deepening.⁠
It’s the ministry birthed out of waiting.⁠
⁠
Because that was the unexpected gift:⁠
God didn’t just give me children.⁠
He gave me a heart to help others hold onto hope.⁠
To whisper to those still waiting,⁠
“You’re not forgotten. You’re not alone. And this longing will not be wasted.”⁠
⁠
So if that’s where you are—⁠
in the middle of the waiting,⁠
the wondering,⁠
the weary prayers...⁠
⁠
Please know:⁠
You’re not being overlooked.⁠
You’re being held.⁠
Even now—especially now—God is near.⁠
⁠
And while your story may look different than mine,⁠
I believe this with all my heart:⁠
⁠
The presence of God is the prize.⁠
It always has been.

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