I have felt a deep ache in my gut for years — a God-given John-17 ache for unity in the body of Christ. I have grieved over our divisions, our American consumerism model of church, our lack of intimacy with each other and with Him — all bruises on His perfect bride. Mostly self-inflicted. And the reflection in my own mirror is just as guilty as anyone else.

A few months ago, a friend of mine was sharing his heart for the church, and briefly mentioned the story of David and Michal from 2 Samuel. In that story, David is given Michal, King Saul’s daughter, as his bride. Along the journey to David’s kinghood, Saul sends Michal away to be given to another man. Later, when David is rightfully and finally placed as king, he sends men to go get Michal — The King sends an army to restore His bride…

You are mine.

At my core, this is the fullness of who I am to Him. And those three words give me more depth than any role I could ever serve.

Last month, I couldn’t find my journal. I have a new one I started in 2024, but this one is the one I kept from 2011-2023. It is thick and bound in ornate green leather — a wedding gift from my grandmother. It has entries from the first years of marriage and motherhood, from several moves and big changes. And it has every poem, song, and journal entry from our hospital years with Sunley — prayers and writings that were too raw and personal for the blog.

And I lost it…

I am well acquainted now with letting go. I hold all things that I can touch very loosely. When Sunley received her fetal diagnosis of a very rare version of Hypoplastic Right Heart Syndrome, it felt like I had to give up nearly every tangible thing I had built. We left my hometown, sold our very funky midcentury modern house that I loved, and I abruptly quit my dream job as a traveling wedding photographer. Our older kids had to live with my parents in Midland for about 10 months, occasionally bouncing around to different relatives, while Derek and I did the hospital thing in Houston. We rarely were able to attend church that year. We gave away our family dog. We watched our tiny baby — and so many other babies — suffer and fight so hard just to keep their hearts beating.

We let go…