Reeling, I entered it being a funeral coffin.

That’s what I called myself for months, because that’s what I felt like after I miscarried our fourth baby.

I hated myself, my life, my enemy, my world, and my God.

Everything felt like death surrounding me.

I laid in bed, day after day, night after night, crying.

I personally knew God’s goodness. His faithfulness. But at that point, I wrestled with why we’d lost another baby. Why He’d let this one die when I cried out for Him to save.

Enter God.

From January 10th until January 19th, He took me, His highly-visual Daughter, on a series of imaginings. Through a whirl of fictional situations, so vivid in my mind I had to write them down. He whispered to me a title and encouraged me to add names. He showed me a place in outer space and asked me to share in the conflict. Who was good, who was bad. And at the end of ten days, I knew.

I had a story perfectly etched of 40 days in the life of an orphan.

I started writing.
In the middle of the miscarriage pain.
In the throes of hormonal angst.
In the vastness of confusion.

I became focused on writing only, and I hated anything that got in the way of it. (Especially the sleepless nights that meant I wouldn’t be able to write well the following day.)

Then, something amazing happened.

Midway through the first 50,000 words, my review of what I’d written came to a halt in realization. I was my main character, and God was the father-figure. He was holding me in it all and helping me heal. Same as the father-figure helped my orphan chara.

Everything shifted for me.

From hate to understanding.

God stood with me in my pain.
So intimately and carefully, He’d helped craft a story to lovingly draw me into my healing.
Healing—not just from the miscarriage—but from my insecurities.
I cried more.

I’d been seen.

And I was held.

It was beautiful in a way only a loving God could give.

Speed up to December 31st of 2019. Here’s where I ended the year:

  • The hormonal-crazy of the miscarriage completely gone – yay!
  • God expanded the story from 40 days to 40 years
  • God brought me a bosom friend to co-write
  • Co-writer and I wrote 431,073+ words in one year


God met me that January where I lay, angry, bitter, sorrowful, and lost, and gave me what I needed, and stayed.

It’s so like Him to love like that.

So very like Him to meet me.

So very like Him to meet you.

So very like Him.

“I entrust my spirit into your hand.
Rescue me, Lord, for you are a faithful God.
” Psalms 31:5 (NLT*)



*Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright 1996, 2004, 2007, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

My Passion

From a young age, I’ve seen the world through eyes easily delighted.
Knowing there is a Creator has only intensified the delight, because I can see Him behind beauty of all kinds.
Behind light.
Behind order.
Behind details.

If strings from each and every year of my short life were tied to one thing,
it would be to my delight shared with the Creator.
He shows me something—points to it like a Father, or a close friend—then we look at it and I tell Him how beautiful, or cool, or awesome, or fascinating it is.
Rinse. Repeat.
A strange waltz.

Sometimes what He shows me can’t stay just between us.
That’s where my waltz with Him becomes something for others to see: I write.
Like a drink offering, I pour it out.
I take what He gives, birth it out, and share it.

If I try to keep the stories for myself, they burn my chest.
They roil in my stomach.
They churn in my mind.
I can almost see them.
Almost touch them.

I’ve learned, though, if I will listen to God’s leading and
put it into something I can share, He will allow me to feel the relief of the after-birth.
The peace of creative-pushes being complete.
The wonder of watching other people draw near and experience Him.

His pleasure is in us doing this “together,” and we are.

Yes, my passion is telling the stories God has given me to tell.



When Shattered – Phones and Other Things

Phone – My I.T. Girl opinion? I was stupid. I loved how the iPhone felt outside of its case. So that’s how I carried it around. One day, I have it on the dryer while I’m messing with laundry. Then I bumped it. Down to the tile it crashes. As soon as it hit: glass crackage. Right around the camera on the back. My soul let out a scream. I knew better and yet I shattered my phone. The only thing I could do was put it in an Otter Box to cover the glass splinters.

Strawberry Jam – My grasp on the small strawberry jam jar slipped. It may not seem like a big deal, but I love strawberry jam. And we were about out of its goodness. Almost out. (Like, all the household toast is about to cry.) BANG! The jar hit the tile on the bottom corner and then… Shatter shards allllll over the kitchen floor. At that point, you can’t eat it, even though part of the jar is sticking together thanks to the last bit of jam. No, no, no, it’s gone. Done. Sorry, toast, you’re left with butter alone.

Relationships – My INFJ ways are to let things sit while they are good. Then, once they aren’t, decide what to remedy and what to let fail. Unfortunately, I’ve always done this with people (and to this day fight to freaking. stop. it.) It starts with a friend going silent. Sometimes maybe I caused that. Then something doesn’t feel right, good, or nice about the relationship. Too late, I see the shattering, between them and I. A delayed gut-punch. All that’s left to wonder is, will friendship glue fix it, or am I too late? Usually, yes. I’m too late.

Feelings – Life happens. Someone dies. Hurt flares. Expectations are dashed. Pain of an argument that goes on and on, stretching the heart pain on for longer than a month. Peace is hard to hold within, because the “owie” overrides everything. Shattered insides much? All have been there. You might be reading this pointing at your own shatteredness in solidarity.

I get you.

A shattering can happen with anything, anytime. Job expectations. Kid expectations. Marriage expectations. Life expectations.

No one gets away unscathed.

My question is:

Who do we take our shattered parts to? Who really cares?

Does anyone really care?

I’m going to whisper this next part, because sometimes blog voices can get tart and snappish, and I’m not wanting that.


I looked for answers. I really did. But I only found one who really cares.

Also is the only one can fix it: Jesus Christ of Nazareth.

Over and over I take the busted stuff in my life to Him, because I am surrendered to Him being the “fixer” in my life. He stood next to me when it happened, and He isn’t upset or mad.* He just wants to be trusted to help. He wants to be trusted to soothe. And He wants to be trusted as the One who never leaves.

He’s never been unfaithful to me. Because, yeah. Stuff shatters.



*Theologically, Jesus is in heaven after ascending to the Father and the Holy Spirit replaced Him on the earth, so God can still be lovingly with us, for those that care to invite Him in. Triune God = 3 in 1. If you have questions, first read the Book of John and the Book of Acts. Forgive the people that wear the name “Christian”… we are all busted and need our Savior. But He isn’t human. We mess up this Christian walk. He didn’t fail us. He’s perfect, so yeah. He “stood” next to me by the Holy Spirit within me; the Holy Spirit is my direct line to Jesus and God the Father, so artistic liberties on how I displayed it.


Accepted Prompt: Breath of the Wild

The leader of my church group for writers posted the above picture as a “visual word prompt” for us and this was my ensuing drabble. Enjoy.

The pain of the dimensional-jump wore off over the next 48-hours, but the pain of the memories didn’t.

The strange new world he’d been kidnapped to needed saving—per the lengthy explanations of his captors— and he was the prophesied reluctant Hero from the Land of Hyrule. So the sooner they equipped him, the better.

But as the days and weeks went on, his despair deepened, puzzling him.

All he could think of was her. Her golden hair. Her lilty laugh. Her ongoing plan to rebuild Hyrule after Calamity Gannon had been extinguished.

Her crown would allow her to appoint another hero in his absence, but he hadn’t had a chance to tell her good-bye…

Somehow, he felt this would be what tormented her the most of his disappearance. That is, if he never found a way home.

His sleep consisted of repeating dreams of him climbing the steepest cliffs of Hyrule to the sound of the ocarina, his climbing shoes slipping more than usual, nearly falling, again and again. Every night.

His waking hours were divided between fighting monsters for his captors and flashbacks of saving Hyrule by following the clues the Princess left.

Like a broken timepiece, his mind had no direction without the goal of her. Her plan. Her needs. Her ideas. Everything he strove for before, lost in another realm, another timeframe.

The only items that remained with him from home were his trusty knife—excellently balanced— and the seeds Zelda had told him to hold until they returned to their manor. She planned to run experiments with the rare seeds. Now he treated both like the most valuable items he’d ever held; just like…



He could hear her saying his name still. The way she did when she begged him to remember who he was. That exact same way.




Turn It Off and On Again

I’ll make this quick and painless.

Fix 95% of your tech issues by turning it off and on again.

You heard me.

If it has a processor for dealing with data, try a 30-second full power down.

This method works for me in the I.T. field over and over again.

It works on all models of smart phone, printer, computer, laptop, Mac, Amazon product (Kindle, Echo, etc.), movie player, music player, Chromecast, Google Home, smart speaker, speaker system, Wi-Fi booster, signal router, etc. So much so, it’s to the point of being laughable. Comical.

Forced power downs don’t break things nowadays like they used to ten years ago, so on your newer devices, feel free to unplug them, count to 30, re-plug-in, and power on.

The only time I would say not to do this is if you have reason to believe your machine has been exposed to a bug/virus/malicious attack. (Or if your machine is ancient-old.)

Hope this saves you some headaches.


Please Note: my data scientist Husband requests I state I’m not liable for any damage incurred to your device from turning it off and on again. So consider it stated. Thanks.


Catted: Requested Prompt Continuation

A special request came through for some additional words written on the prompt I posted. (See it here. You might read it first for context.) I didn’t start this with a plan and I sure don’t have one now. We’ll see how this goes.


An hour passed by slowly. She refused to talk, and he got the hint and didn’t try. The teal-eyed cat just sat there like a loaf on the balcony’s wooden railing.

The dusty cow town quieted as those eating and talking downstairs in the hotel turned in. The cicadas and crickets were even lessening.

She squinted her eyes at the full-moon-lit yard beneath them. It would happen any minute. She shifted her weight to her other foot.

Beside her, Merrit pulled out an old pocket watch and checked the time. He let out a bored yawn.

Suddenly, the cat looked beneath them.

A barely-discernible sparkle cut the air near the ground, widening to a black, vertical oval in the middle of the dusty yard area.

Her heartbeat quickened.

Out of portal black stepped a silver-skinned being dressed in silver cowboy-wear.

She waited for the target to step away from the closing portal, then she moved, jumping the railing and flipping down to the ground. Her boot stabilizers caught the landing, but she’d forgotten how heavy the dress would be in this gravity. She stumbled forward to her knees, catching herself painfully against the ground with her hands.

“You need to work on that landing.” Merrit called down at her.

She gritted her teeth, looking up to meet eyes with the target.

The silver being pulled out a gel ball and began to smash it to the ground.

Awkwardly, she flung her bracelet, the gig-time freezer, at it.

The gig-time freezer activated when it hit, but it was too late: the gel ball decimated the signal with pulses.

She grimaced. She hated when targets were ready for her favorite move.

The target flung his gloved hand at his feet, opening a portal, vector-place jumping again.

She scrambled up and dove in after.


Slowed by the boots, Merrit barely made it in time to follow the two, diving head-first  into the portal.

His hands touched the incoming ground and he tucked and rolled, the motion landing him up on his feet again. They were on a night-shrouded, dusty plateau, complete with small bushes and sparse grass patches. From the corner of his vision, he saw his cat dashing forward.

Ahead of them, the Time Agent drew her weapon and fired several blue pips at the retreating silver being. The target turned and deflected and deflected- stymieing her attempts to halt the getaway.

Merrit stood, pulling a glowing yellow orb from his belt. He threw the earthquake miffer into the air, trying to get in front of the target. The ground shook mightily, knocking the Time Agent to her feet and felling the target into a canyon he hadn’t seen.

He raced toward where the silver being disappeared.

The Time Agent ran up beside him, yelling, “Illegal much?”

They skidded to a stop next to the small canyon, staring down to see a shimmering, black, vector-place jump right beneath them.

“Illegal what?” He took a breath, a step back, then jumped off the edge. He sensed she jumped beside him. They dropped into the portal.

On the other side of the shiny black, they landed amid cacti and brush, their legs tangled.

Merrit got to his knees, quickly pulling a cactus needle out off his hand. “Well that smarts.”

Looking up, he spotted the target running away from them, dodging in and out of larger desert plants.

Beside him, the Time Agent stood to her feet, her dress a dusty, torn mess. “That’s about enough.” She growled. Stepping forward, she pulled her range stunner out and fired it at the target. The stunner glowed lime green and glitched, zapping her to the ground.

“Didn’t count on having to run.” Merrit muttered, getting up. He took off in hot pursuit, boots clomping. He gained quite a bit, then he pulled out his laser whip from his belt. Lengthening the distance with a brush of his thumb, he turned it to max, wound up and cracked it hard. It snapped close to hitting the target, but missed entirely.

Raising it’s arm, the target whirled around and launched a Tommy bomb straight at the ground in front of Merrit, the tail fins revolving almost comically in slow motion.

Merrit realized he wouldn’t have time to slow down or dodge.

“Uumph!” His breath left him as he was pushed hard to the left, landing hard on the unforgiving dirt behind a rock. Exploded cacti and night sand rained down around him. Breathing hard, he opened his eyes, coming face-to-face with the teal eyes of his cat. “We’re going to have a rocky relationship if you keep doing that!”

The cat took off.

Merrit shakily got to his feet.

The Time Agent caught up, stopping near him, panting. Her hair had partially come undone. She pulled up her dart gun, breathing hard. She aimed and fired her sleep dart at the target.

Merrit watched as the target ducked and kept running.

“You gotta… be… kidding me!” She gasped, starting after the target again. Merrit ran with her.

Ahead of them, the target is suddenly attacked by the cat, a mechanical scream sounding out in the night. The cat yowled back with ferocity.

Merrit and the Time Agent reached the target at the same time, but he paused to let her approach first.

She shooed his cat off and knelt, slipping binders on the target. She angrily read the target its temporal rights.

“What makes you think you get to take him in?” Merrit huffed.

She gave him a dirty look. “Did you cause an un-sanctioned earthquake, cowboy?” She snarled. “I should take you in to answer for your sector’s utter denial of the Time Accords. All one-thousand-and-six of them.”

Merrit spread his hands. “I can’t help it if my sector is more street-savvy than yours.”

“Punks. The lot of you. And your justice system is flawed. The target returns with me. You and-” She looked down at the cat who is bathing it’s leg in the moonlight. “your girlfriend there can mosey yourselves right home.”

“Now hold on there-” He looked down, baffled, at his cat. “Girl? What? Did you lie to me?”

The cat put down her leg and sat, eyes unblinking.

The Time Agent rolled her eyes. “That cat clearly saved your life, so you owe it some catnip or something. Just do me a solid and never run into me again, okay?”

He smiled at her suavely. “No promises, Virginia.”

She exhaled and threw a DIME-opener to the ground to transport her and the target back to her Headquarters. It grew into a sky blue oval of fluids wide and high enough for two people. She moved toward it pushing the target ahead of her.

He took a step toward her. “What? Not going to retort with your real name?”

She whirled around. “No matter how many times you ask, you’ll never get my name, Merrit. If you were a real professional, I wouldn’t know yours.”

“Keep running, Starlight. I know I’ll befriend you one day.”

She turned on a heel and marched through the transport. It flowed into a soupy, glass-like blue ripple, then faded away to nothing.

He looked down at his cat. “Hey. Liar. Did’ja get it?”

The cat moved. Under where its haunches sat laid a small, square, brown leather pouch.

Merrit leaned down and picked it up. “You are unreal, Mister. Uh, Missy… Whatever.” He opened the pouch and peered in. Seeing the powerful Corsecan item within, he tied the pouch and pushed it into his pocket. “Thanks for saving my bacon back there.”

The cat ‘mrrred’ up at him, lazily blinking teal eyes.

Merrit grinned. “You think she’ll come after us now that we have it?”

The cat licked her paw and wiped her maw twice.

“Hn. You’re right. We best stay ready.” Merrit opened a Di-jump for them with a wave of his hand. “If we’re lucky, maybe she’ll find us before we get a chance to use it.”




Eye Socks – Who Knew?

The I.T. Girl Hack for your week: eye socks. You’re welcome.


I thought I was going blind.

Looking at my computer screen at work, there was a persistent blurring of the image. I’d rub my eyes, it’d shift or go away for awhile, then return.

My eyes had history of burning after long hours of screen-work, but the blurring was new and scary. And since my eyes were burning to the point of pain, I booked an appointment with an ophthalmologist quick-like.

The ophthalmologist did a full examination of my peepers, being sure to let me know what she found along the way. (I had so many questions. Remember, I thought something serious was going on.) Turns out, my eyes were secreting tears just fine, but the oil ratio in them was troubling.

And there’s a name for that. It’s called meibomian gland dysfunction. Also called ‘meibomianitis.’ (Click here to learn more.)

And yeah. That was my diagnosis.

The cause? You’ll love this.

I wasn’t blinking enough.

So, basically, people who work with computer screens/ smart phone screens/ television screens all day blink very little. (You can read on that here.)

When a person blinks very little, the meibomian glands (the oil-makers of the eye) aren’t able to push out the oils they are meant to.

And if the meibomian glands don’t push out the oil, the oil turns to wax.

Yeah. I had a freaking wax buildup going on in my eyes because of my line of work.

To quote Beth Moore, not a blessing.

But the ophthalmologist had a solution! (Supposedly made easier by my age and the severity.) Warm compresses (for two solid minutes per eye) four times a day for two weeks, then two more weeks of M-W-F treatments, then as needed. for. the. rest. of. my. life.

…Or as long as I planned to keep working with computers and screens. Cue tears now.

I’ll sum up.

The treatment worked, but it was a pain to pull off. (Who wants to be dousing their eyes with heated water four times a day?)

This took place five years ago.


Nowadays, I just use a sock filled with rice, microwaved to perfection, for two solid minutes.

It works so well, I’m writing this post to share for all those out there who are experiencing burning, itching, blurring eyes due to too much Pinterest Facebook Instagram Fortnite screen time.

Especially for the poor souls like me who work with screens, relax with screens, and then call their mom with FaceTime. (Hi, Mom!)

My eye sock saves the day anytime the burning sensation starts up again.

This is my current eye sock, who I’ve lovingly named “Sockie The Christmas Gift To My Eyes.”

Sockie The Christmas Gift To My Eyes

I stand by it as the best I.T. hack I’ve ever known.

I like this hack so much, I think every high school student should have one when they go off to adulthood, every young person should have one when they enter school, and every parent should have one for when the kids leave and they watch too many shows or sports on their phone.

You don’t have to use a Christmas sock for yours. Just sayin’.

So here’s how you make your own.


Simple to a fault.

  1. Find a sock made of fabric that won’t let rice dust escape. The sock can be as big or small as you wish. I liked mine to cover both my eyes well at the same time.
  2. Fill the sock with rice, leaving room to knot to opening of the sock. Don’t over-stuff. The sock needs to contour to your face. I recommend pouring the rice over a 13 x 9 baking dish to catch what falls. Especially if you aren’t using a funnel.
  3. Tie the sock opening in a knot so rice won’t escape.
  4. To use: microwave the rice sock for 60 to 90 seconds, then touch it to see if it’s hot enough. Add 30-second bursts to achieve correct heat level for you. (If you do 120+ seconds at one time, you risk burning the rice, which is a travesty and will make you cry. Okay, maybe I was the one that cried. Still. Don’t do it unless you want to start back at #1.)
  5. Without burning your face, hold the rice sock on your closed eyes for 2 minutes. (Your target is the eyelash line.)
  6. Done. Put the rice sock away in a dry location until you need it next. You can use the rice sock until something looks or smells off. Then make yourself a new one.

If you spill rice everywhere and are tempted to yell my name in frustration, don’t. Use a vacuum and try again. Your success with bless your eyes. (Also, don’t let the dry rice go down your kitchen pipes. It’s just not a good thing, you know?)

Hope this saves your I.T. / Programmer / Gamer / Video-Streaming eyes.


Write, Prompt, Share 30

“Dresses are no place for a lady.”

His voice wafted over from the wooden staircase.

She turned, the bustle of her dress catching the ornate railing again. Why this place pushed this level of time-worn Ritz was beyond her.

He wore an old-timey black suit, white collar, and maroon vest, complete with a gold pocket-watch.

“In this time period? It’s exactly where the ladies resided.” She huffed. The dumb corset made it hard to breathe. “Why are you here, anyway?”

His boots echoed in the balcony as he clomped to her side. “Same reason as you: to suffer in the clothing.”

Rolling her eyes, she turned back to her study of the nighttime scene. “You know nothing of suffering.”

A sudden movement beside her jumped her hands and body into defense mode, when she realized it was just his pet. “D’oi-ma cren-jua-pa! Why on Earth did you bring that?” She lowered her hands to her scrunched up waist and worked to steady her breathing.

The teal-eyed cat sat on the railing, unpeturbed by her reaction.

“I didn’t bring him. He followed me.” The man clicked his tongue. “Naughty fellow. Breaking rules everywhere he goes.”

The cat stared into her soul.

She wrinkled her nose. “You’d think it wouldn’t go near the volds. Or you, for that matter.”

“Who am I to impede feline class?”

She glanced to the stars before settling back to the view.

They stood in silence. Voices from downstairs tumbled up through the staircase like drunken mumbles. Chirping crickets sang across the moonlit foliage below.

She didn’t know how long she’d have to wait for a glimpse of the target. But, in this company? She prayed it’d be soon.

I post these little tidbits to share with other writers who enjoy prompts. Feel free to share with a link back.

Write, Prompt, Share 29

There came a point where they journeyed so deep into Okalaxon space, they felt certain they’d entered some form of intergalactic ocean. Huge, slow-moving space creatures that resembled fish spanned hundreds of thousands of meters across the area, slowly swimming between stars and planets. The creatures’ “fins” looking like enormous half-lit flower petals floating in space. Write what happens next.


I post these little tidbits to share with other writers who enjoy prompts. Feel free to share with a link back.

Write, Prompt, Share 28

The alien you were tailing just transformed into a tiger using your memories of Earth. Thinking quickly, you freeze the moment with your Reality Pauser, giving your crewmates time to catch up to you. Describe what you’re feeling, hearing, smelling while you wait for rescue.


I post these little tidbits to share with other writers who enjoy prompts. Feel free to share with a link back.

Write, Prompt, Share 26

Lisa, your friend from planet Cqzazl, has saved your life by whisking you into a navy blue dimension. She suggests you stay put until she can confirm the assassins won’t find you. What do you do in an all-navy-blue world? What are the inhabitants like? How do you survive until she returns?

I post these little tidbits to share with other writers who enjoy prompts. Feel free to share with a link back.