In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. John 1:1-3

Words matter to me because they are the very breath of God.

He is all my beautiful beginnings.

He spoke and worlds, waters, deserts, jacaranda trees, figs, watermelons, kangaroos, meerkats, and turtles came into being.

God spoke and painted the sky. God spoke and mapped the milky way. God spoke and roots drank deep from the soil.

God spoke.

The Word.

And on a dark night in Bethlehem God slipped into the wet and newborn skin of His own creation.




I write, because how can I not? Created as I am in His image. How can I not pick up the tools He gave me and speak a testimony into being.

Whether it’s a hard truth like temper or how much I love watching the ordinary glory of a day in the life of a mother.

So, on Fridays we practice with our words – and in it I hear echoes of the making and remaking of truth and beauty and sacrifice. I hear stretched lives and a prodigal mother’s  sleepless nights.

I hear your hearts and I want to cup them here on the other side of the screen.

Your words are sacred. I don’t take them lightly. I see you sculpt your story into being with the abc’s of your life. Your value transcends how many read, comment or like what you write. Your words live beyond the reader. Your words live because you spoke them into being.

Your words live.

They breathe and teach and whisper back to you the truths you need to learn.

“The word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.”

He still does. On Fridays, on Tuesdays on ordinary every days. The word lives with us and within us and we are the living story He came to write.


Won’t you join me?

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community..

OK, are you ready? Please give us your best five minutes on:::




Encouragement is a choice. And it’s rarely the easy choice. Because there are voices in your head that will tell you that she got what you deserved. You will feel misunderstood and there’s a river of hurt words that can land in social media. There are places and spaces that spill out an internal monologue and ache into the open and it’s easy to shut down and shut off and say, “I’m out.”

Deciding to cheer for the person who got the promotion you wanted? That burns. Like working out a soft muscle. It can take practice and practice to remember that the first instinct when you hear what’s happened in someone else’s life shouldn’t be to simply compare it to your own.

We are so good at clicking that like button while are hearts are deeply unhappy at her smiling good fortune. We must bear down to deliver ourselves free from this prison of constantly comparing what we’ve got to what we think we deserve.

We are none of us entitled.

We are none of us deserving.

We are all grace beggars and all we breathe and wake up to and love and live for is unasked for, unexpected, daily gift.

We unwrap and before the paper has even fallen to the floor we’re looking for the next thing, the next hit, the next justification that I’m great and here and who has noticed yet today.

Encouragement immunizes against entitlement.

Encouragement liberates from comparison.

Encouragement learns to love others and really mean it.