When we first started working in Liberia, we received a call one day from our dear friend. “We need your prayers,” he said. “A member of our congregation died last night.” Of course, we were shocked and deeply saddened. We were new partners and fledgling friends and still in the long, slow process of learning about each other. To

It’s that time, friends! I have ARCs in hand and I’m ready to build my street team! What’s a street team? I’m glad you asked. Basically, it’s a group of friends and advocates who will help me build buzz around LITTLE BROKEN THINGS. I’m looking for people who are passionate about books and who love a good story. LITTLE BROKEN

Hi, friends! Is anyone still here? I sincerely doubt it because I haven’t blogged in over TWO YEARS. It’s a little hard for me to get my head around that fact because, hello, time flies. How can it be two years since the last time I posted? I must be getting old… (The big 4-0 is coming up this year,

Hi, friends. So, I flaked on my #MuseMonday post last week, and I don’t have much to say today. There are hills to sled down, cookies to bake, memories to make. My husband leaves for Liberia a few days after Christmas and we’re reveling in this sweet holiday season and time together before we are apart. The truth? I can’t remember

Life is sweet. It’s rich and layered and bright. Little blessings hang like ripe fruit within our grasp, and every day, every day is a miracle. But sometimes we get distracted… It snowed this weekend. The first snow of the year for our little corner of creation, and as the day went on and the inches continued to pile up

Oh, friends. What a weekend. But I don’t have to tell you that. Are you reeling from Beirut and Japan and Paris? From disasters natural and manmade? The world seems harsh and scary sometimes, cold and unforgiving and dark. I don’t understand. I’m not sure anyone can. And we haven’t even touched on catastrophes closer to home. Ugly words, broken hearts,

Wife. Mother. Author. Friend. Teacher. Optimist. Artist. To a lesser extent… Chef. Organizer. Gardener. Runner. Risk taker. Philanthropist. And just a little less… Activist. Adventure-seeker. Traveler. Have you caught on yet? These are just a few of my labels, the hats that I wear. (Or that I think I wear. Maybe I should have let my husband or my friends write these

Did I catch your attention with that title? A (small) part of me hopes so and the other (huge) part feels all squirmy and weird. Emotions aside, I can say that it’s a very honest heading because hands down the hardest part of writing for me is promotion. I love dreaming up new stories, getting to know characters, putting pen to paper,

Sometimes I feel responsible for all the things in all the world. All the things that move me. That break my heart. That make my palms go sweaty and that keep me up at night. Syria and violence in school and hunger and rape and children who don’t have a mom and a dad or place to lay their head. I’m a