a note from the gardener

I got my first tattoo in April of 2024 and almost immediately started saving for my second. Ben likes to tease me that I’m a “tattoo person” now — and maybe I am. I get what people mean when they say it’s addicting. For me, it’s all about the meaning. I want each one to be an altar. A little Ebenezer. A picture marking what God has shown me and where I’ve been.

God speaks in pictures. He always has — parables and visions, stars and trees and bread. It didn’t stop in Scripture. He still speaks that way now, in language that lingers. I’ve seen it not just in my own story, but in the lives of so many people I know who walk closely with Him. These images — when they come — tend to stay. They change us quietly.

I have an idea for a third tattoo. But in a lot of ways… I’m hoping this vision becomes a tattoo — not in ink, but in the slow way it marks me over time. We’ll see. Maybe someday I’ll write another post here, with a third “why.” But for now, I’m just holding the picture and waiting to see what it becomes.

If you’re curious, I’ve shared a bit more about the first two tattoos here:

the “why” behind my first tattoo →
the “why” behind my second tattoo →

the gentle and lowly path

When I read Get Your Life Back in 2021, it felt like a whisper from Jesus: you don’t have to carry all this. I had been living stressed, fast, a little constantly performative — and I didn’t even realize it. I thought I was doing fine. But that book gave me language for what my soul had been aching for: the gentle and lowly path is still open.

So I started pruning back commitments. I practiced the graces — pausing, releasing, noticing beauty, letting myself transition slowly. I cut out scrolling (all social media, tiktok, and youtube). The change was radical, but quiet.

My life slowed down so much it startled me. The silence, at first, was deafening. No updates, no likes, no comments. No mirror to tell me how I was doing, where I ranked, how I measured up.

It was hard to let go of that. Really hard.

But then something unexpected happened: I could breathe again.

I started measuring my life in new ways. Not by what I had produced or how I was perceived — but by how deeply I was loving. That’s what began to matter. And love, I found, moves at a different pace. It’s never hurried.

 The pace of love is slow. 

more on the graces that changed everything →
more reading on slowing down →
more books that have changed my life →

gossipy birdies on the bluff

more delights to inspire you →

today’s invitation

Expect Him today.

Not someday, not when things settle down — today.

Right here, in this moment, God is already present and moving.
Ask Him: What are You doing around me? In me? Through me?

Then pause. Watch. Listen.

He delights to surprise us.

more on anticipation →

Thank you for going down the path with me today. If this is your first time, I encourage you to check out this note explaining the idea of the digital garden and what's up with the weird title 😄.

Peace to you! ✌️