when you lose something you can’t replace
when you love someone but it goes to waste

when you’re too in love to let it go

if you never try you’ll never know
just what you’re worth

[fix you by coldplay]

just how many times do i have to let go until i don’t have to let go anymore?

yesterday i thought, the worst part about this is that i’m in the middle of a process. that being in this place means raw emotion, pain, and aches no one will ever truly understand except myself.

and yet. the best thing about this is also that this is a process. which means this is not the end. one day this will be over. the best is yet to come.

though You slay me
yet i will praise You
though You take from me
i will bless Your name
though You ruin me
still I will worship
sing a song to the one who’s all i need

-shane & shane

because your love is better than life, my lips will glorify you.

-psalm 63:6

healing is a process. it’s a process that involves more than just a few ingredients. and sometimes it doesn’t look like carefully measuring out each cup and teaspoon before putting it into the oven to bake for 25 minutes at 400 degrees fahrenheit.

no, this healing thing is a slow cooker. for me, at least. inside, a bunch of random things are thrown together. anger before worship. then hurt mixed in with surrender. pride and impatience and disbelief seasoned with grace that leads to repentance and dependence on You. sitting in the sadness after realizing i was suppressing the pain for a little too long. it’s good days and then some bad. and then it’s me thinking i’m almost done with this all and ready to move on to the next thing before You and i discover the flavor’s really uneven in this one spot and we have to do this all over again.

it’s frustrating because it can feel lonely sometimes. because whatever’s happening is happening inside. no one else will know just what is taking place. no one else will understand just what i’m experiencing. as much as i can let others in on the next update and ask them to pick up the lid and add in a pinch of encouragement and a dash of prayer, it’s impossible for anyone to really see everything going on underneath the surface.

but You knew that, didn’t You. You knew that no one else would be able to see straight through into my pain, into my innermost thoughts and understand every second of each bittersweet memory. except You.

in the silence, in the noise, in the suffering, You want to cultivate an intimacy with me that teaches me what it means to be Yours and only Yours. to strip me of my self-sufficiency and inability to stop relying on myself. to show me how to align my heart so that it beats to the rhythm of Yours. You wait until i’m tired of talking, until i’m done telling You lies. You wait until the room is finally empty and all we’re left with is my broken heart and the sound of Your voice. until i’m ready to listen.

what’s next, Father? what then?

we dance, my child. we dance. 

will it be worth it?

oh, so worth it. 


a letter to you from me

control is a funny thing.

the older i get and the more i experience life, i learn that i have both more and less control over myself, other people, and the circumstances around us all.

i learn that i am a drop in the bucket, a vapor in the wind, a flower quickly fading, a grain of sand, a piece of the puzzle. who i am and everything i have is a complex combination of the attitudes, desires, decisions, mistakes, victories, struggles, joys, beginnings, and ends of a billion other forces in this universe we all exist in.

forces: my family, your family, your family’s family, your doctor, my old dentist, (thank God for) my new dentist, my kindergarten teacher, the U.S. army, the French army, the cash me ousside girl, Mila Kunis, my cousin’s hairdresser, the dangerous way shrubbery sometimes blocks your view when you’re trying to make a left turn, the dog park that forever stunk until the apartment complex finally decided to rip it up and turn that space into a patio, the administration of my university, the queen of Lebanon, the 1950s American ideology of the feminine mystique, the Great Pyramids of Giza, the tornadoes that wrecked houses and lives in North Texas last year, the amount my church collected from the offering last Sunday, the stranger who sat next to me at Starbucks this afternoon, the newest drug the FDA approved this morning, the weather, nature, time, animals, natural disasters, the stock market, Satan (yeah, he gets in the way sometimes), popular media, the government, the healthcare system, fashion trends, rich people, poor people, educated people, people who never finished the third grade, my future grandchildren, your great-grand uncle.

every moment you and i live in is, at the time that it happened, at the tail end of an infinitely long series of events made possible by a million gazillion trillion forces at work.

too many little forces to count.

they’re little, because there’s one big force holding them all together. cutting through the chaos, the good, the bad, the joys, the sorrows. making a story, painting a picture, growing a garden, healing the broken, redeeming the unredeemable, finding the lost, breaking every chain. this force is bigger than i can ever imagine, this force is bolder than i can ever hope for, this force is more alive and real than i often believe. this force is a person. my God. my Savior. my Friend. my Lord.

outside of time, my God makes the impossible possible and the possible impossible. He says i am finished but also, at the same time, a work in progress. He says i have nothing to offer but that my heart – as proud, twisted, selfish, and confused as it often is – brings him unspeakable measures of delight. He says to focus on the things that are above and to deny myself but He comes to my side and hears my every cry even before it escapes my mouth. He is concerned about big things. He is about changing the world and saving nations. But He stopped and sat next to me when i woke up in my bed yesterday and covered my face in my hands because my heart hurt. He held me in His arms when i sat at church later that morning, chest heavy from the ache i felt keenly inside. the ache of having to lose something, someone. the ache of knowing and having to accept a change in how you relate to me and i relate to you.

i didn’t expect you. i didn’t know there was more to you than the lanky, obnoxious grad student in my classes who didn’t know how to shut up. i had never really paid much attention to you. i thought i knew who you were, but i was wrong. i didn’t know you had a story, that you were different. i didn’t know you would see me and think that i was different. i couldn’t predict you would look past what everyone else saw when they looked at me–and see what made me, me. you were my biggest surprise.

i thought i knew what i was looking for. i had an image, albeit fuzzy, of what that was in my mind. you didn’t come anywhere close to fitting that description. and yet – i fell for you. i fell pretty hard. i fell in love with your heart.

your heart is strong, your heart is pure, your heart is humble. it is wise beyond its years but so hopeful and trusting almost to the point of innocence. it believes all things, hopes all things. it’s suffered much but refuses to close itself off to the one Force who can protect it best. your heart doesn’t believe in shortcuts and knows that true beauty is forged out of fire, out of the waiting, out of the testing, out of the prayers. your heart is beautiful.

you couldn’t understand why i “gave you a chance”, but i, on the other hand, found myself unable to resist you. you are rare. you are special. you are one in a million. you took my breath away. you stole my heart and then broke it for its first time.

i don’t know what the future holds. i don’t know if i will look back on this in two days, two years, or two decades and think this is the stupidest thing i’ve ever written and be ashamed. i don’t know if we will end up together or not. and i know you don’t know either. but He knows. He is, at this very moment, spinning together a million little forces on behalf of you, on behalf of me, on behalf of this world, on behalf of His glory. He asked me if i wanted to see His glory, and today i promised Him i did. and so i give up control. control over who and what you mean to me. control over my heart, over my emotions. i trust that He is good. i trust His ways are better. i trust that He cares for me just as He cares for you.

i trust that He’s doing a good work in you and that He’s doing a good work in me, too. remember how i said control was a funny thing? well here’s why: i control whether or not i let Him do that good work in me. i control my response to His grace and His mercy overflowing onto me. i control whether i will let Him lead me by gentle and still waters. i control if i will allow Him to show me something wonderful and bigger than i could ever imagine. it is my prayer that i allow Him to mold me into everything i was created to be – today, tomorrow, forever.

and wherever you are right now, i pray the same is true for you, too.


i absolutely love my sister’s writing. so proud of everything she is and all that she will be. what a painful yet beautiful and powerful story.

It doesn’t matter what you do . . . so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that’s like you after you take your hands away. The difference between the man who just cuts lawns and a real gardener is in the touching . . . The lawn-cutter might just as well not have been there at all; the gardener will be there a lifetime.”

― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451


Double-major at America’s first research University,

Fulbright scholar to the Netherlands,

on track for one of medicine’s highest paid specialties.   

R.A., T.A., C.A., fellowships, grants, scholarships.

This will be his legacy.

so who am I to bristle when he holds me close and burns my boundaries

who am I to protest when he promises strength yet crushes my dignity

and who am I to argue when he sings of bliss, and so

I scrub his plates and pour his tea, I hem his pants at night, handstitch,

I soothe his restless brow, and then I’m diagnosed as “Basic-”


The first time he hits me,

I laugh. Uncomfortable with my own strength to formulate a “no,” I laugh,

and so does he.


I know he is a good man, so why do I IV-drip tears into our coffee,

why is every day a clinical on my incompetence,

why are insults and anger his prescription for my humanity?  


My father says, “that is how all men are.”

My mother shakes her head, every angle broken, and for the first time,

I know something is deeply, horribly wrong with me.


I am a child again, screaming from the balcony as fists meet faces, bookshelves topple,

shards of glass litter the floor like confetti from a drunken teenage dance.  

I am one of five million children exposed to domestic violence each year.


Packing stale bread and chunks of cream cheese for our lunches because

“Mommy’s missing again,” and my sisters are hungry, but I cannot be late to middle school.

I am three times more likely to repeat the cycle in adulthood.


Sobbing on a blue rug on the bathroom floor because who will teach me what to say

when I testify in court as key witness against my father, the man who tried to kill my mother?

I am six times more likely to commit suicide, nine times more likely to abuse drugs and alcohol.


And when my father scoffs and says “it’s in your head; define ‘hit’,” I realize

I am one of the ten million Americans abused by their partners every year.


That was my past.

But this will not be my legacy.


I will fight the lie that tells me, in my mother’s voice,

“You deserve it”

I will block out the roar of my father’s hands that says,

“This is normal”

And I will face the love that was not real, the jeering, sneering suffocation that

shoved me against the wall after a hard day of rotations, that said my friends and family were hobbies not worth my time, that ridiculed everything about me except what he could handle, that tried to buy my silence and soul with a Christmas present off of Amazon,

and my mouth will formulate a “no”.


For every child in this room who has traced another’s handprint on their flesh,

I will say “no”.

For every girl and boy in this school who believes they have lost their body and soul,

I will say “no”.

And for your future spouse, your future child, those who may one day fill these seats with hopeful hearts and open hands,

I will teach you to say “no”.


Out of these ashes, beauty will rise.

And from one story, truth multiplies.


You see, if I suffer, and you suffer, and we both stay silent,

hope dies.

And if I suffer, and you suffer, and I speak, and you hide,

you lie.

But if I suffer, and you suffer, and we both speak out knowing we love those who are exposed, but clinging to the promise that today’s darkness will bring a brighter tomorrow,

truth will arise.    


Change is painful, slow.

As C.S. Lewis wrote, “Love anything and your heart will be wrung

and possibly broken.

If you want to make sure of keeping it intact

you must give it to no one, not even an animal.

Lock it up safe

in the casket or coffin of your selfishness.

But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change.

It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.

To love is to be vulnerable.”


Your past is not your legacy.

The bitterness mingled in your blood is not your identity.

And if I can stand before you today and say that in your ashes, I see beauty,

then day by day week by week year by year

you can break free.


Take this moment,

and it will become your legacy.

this isn’t about

working less or more, necessarily. this isn’t about homemade or takeout, or full time or part time, or the specific ways we choose to live out our days. it’s about rejecting the myth that every day is a new opportunity to prove our worth, and about the truth that our worth is inherent, given by God, not earned by our hustling.

sink deeply into the world as it stands. breathe in the smell of rain and the scuff of leaves as they scrape across driveways on windy nights. this is where life is, not in some imaginary, photo-shopped dreamland. now. you, just as you are. me, just as i am. this world, just as it is. this is the good stuff. this is the best stuff there is. perfect has nothing on truly, completely, wide-eyed, open-souled present.

shauna niequist


God has not called us to be victims, but victors.

Never let what other people have done to you become bigger than what God has done for you.

Let the waters rise

I will stand as the oceans roar

Let the earth shake beneath me

Let the mountains fall

You are God over the storm

and I am yours.


Matthew 14

Jesus walks on water. He walks on the waves. He walks on the the very thing that terrifies the disciples the most. Jesus walked on our problems like they were nothing.
Peter looks beyond the waves and sees Jesus and responds: Lord if you’re calling me – I’m in!

God-sized assignments always start with a step of faith.

prayer for tomorrow

prayer for restful sleep tonight.

prayer for renewed energy for aaro 9 tomorrow.

prayer for strength to give my best for these students, their families, my co-workers, my employers, SMU.

prayer for wisdom and discernment, compassion and understanding when interacting with the first-year students.

prayer for me to see the students in my small group through Your eyes. to see how precious each one of these students is. how infinitely valuable they are to You.

prayer for me to answer their questions thoroughly, for me to help equip them to live their college years to the fullest potential.

prayer for me to be honest, open, vulnerable. professional yet understanding.

prayer for me to love my neighbor as myself.

prayer for me to be filled with Your Spirit all day long. for me to listen for Your still, small voice. for me to believe You are near me even when it is hard for me to have faith that You are sovereign, You are in control.

prayer for me to walk in freedom. live life without limits.

prayer for You to tear down strongholds in my life, one by one.

prayer for You to teach me how to trust You again.

Lord I want to love like Jesus. I want to these students to know You. I want them to feel valued, to feel like they belong here, to feel that someone here cares about them – cares about the things that make them unique and special. Teach me how to love like You already love them.

Lord teach my heart to dance with Yours. Take my heart just as it is now – weak, confused, weary, fearful, selfish, stubborn – and allow me to experience the freedom I have when i dance with You. I need to, I want to feel Your heart beat. I want to see like You see. I want to hurt like You hurt. I want to cry like You cry. I want to rejoice with You. I want to be in this world, but not of it because the only thing that can define my existence is the fact that I am Yours. Give me a heart that serves not for my own gain but because I can’t not share Your goodness to others.

My Princess Bride

May I invite you to let your heart dance with Me today? Only I can turn your mourning into dancing. I will give you the beauty and grace needed for the world to see that you are My Beautiful Bride. When you dance with Me, you will feel yourself move to the beat of My heart. It is time, My Bride, to put on your dancing shoes. Now allow Me, your Prince, to play a song, a song for your soul. A song that will make your heart beat with Mine now and throughout all eternity.

[Sheri Rose Shepherd]

You have turned my mourning into joyful dancing.

You have taken away my clothes of mourning and clothed me with joy, that I might sing praises to you and not be silent.

O LORD my God, I will give you thanks forever!

Psalm 30:11-12

Cry on My Shoulder

You are never alone, My beloved.

When you hurt, I hurt, and it breaks My heart to watch you cry without me.

I am here with you, desiring to be the shoulder your tears fall on.

I too walked the world broken, My love.

We will work through any and all things together, heart.

Call out My name, Jesus, in your dark hours, and I will hold you.

Will you give Me a chance to love you back to life again?

I promise that you will see the light of a new day and joy will come again.


Your Prince who will wipe away your tears

[Sheri Rose Shepherd]


He will once again fill your mouth with laughter and your lips with shouts of joy. [Job 8:21]

hump day

my superlative:

most likely to win the aaro leader hunger games

“because you gonna be up there all hiding by yourself, killing everybody else off” – jessica mitchell

hil – ar – ious.