A Prayer for the Writer on Publication Day

A Prayer for the Writer on Publication Day

The more writers I befriend, the more I realize how exposed and fearful we feel on the day our content is published. It's incredibly vulnerable to put your voice out into the world, and we need extra prayers on those days, whether we’ve posted a blog post, shared thoughts on a podcast, released a book or product, or spoken to a group.

So, writer friends, this prayer is written for you, and especially for the precious friends in my writing group. (HI, PALS!) You can download a copy to keep saved on your phone or desktop by clicking here or just saving the image below. It may be a good addition to your publication day process. I hope that it offers perspective and encouragement to you on publication day as you bravely surrender the words you’ve been given.

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A Prayer for Those Who Hurt on Sundays

A Prayer for Those Who Hurt on Sundays

“Easy like Sunday morning” are lyrics that can grate. Not because it’s hilariously difficult to get everyone ready and into the car on a Sunday (it is!) but because of something much deeper. Because church, for some, is a place of deep loneliness. Of profound wounds. Of rejection. Of distrust. Of having to stand next to offenders and hear their voices proclaim worship. Of realizing your own role as an offender and having to encounter those you’ve hurt.

Once, in a room full of people, we were asked the question, “Is it easy to love the Church?” Everyone around me nodded quickly and happily, saying, “ Yes! We love our church!” My jaw dropped.

This is not my experience. I am bloody from my attempts to love the Church.

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Adoption: God Provides Through People

Adoption: God Provides Through People

Early on in the adoption process, a number is scribbled on a piece of paper, and the number catches me by surprise. It’s more money than we have, and we don’t know how we’ll get it. But we know this: God is not surprised by the number, and this number is not too big for Him. He could stick it in our bank account right now.

But He doesn’t. He doesn't typically work like that. 

He works like this:

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The Pastor's Wife

The Pastor's Wife

“Your husband is in seminary. What would he think about what you’ve done?”

I was 21, and these words shattered my heart. They have become a haunting soundtrack to some of my darkest days, and their rhythm has sometimes been hard to escape. It was the first time my husband’s position had been used as a weapon against me. It would not be the last.

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There Are No Small Ways to Love Someone

There Are No Small Ways to Love Someone

When I told a friend that Granddaddy had died, she said she was making us dinner and that she’d drop it on the porch later. Normally I say something like, “Oh you don’t have to do that! We’ll be fine! You are so sweet!” But I just couldn’t think. I couldn’t summon the energy to turn it down, so I said a teary “thank you” and kept on parenting, poorly, kept on cleaning, clumsily, kept on stopping every hour or so to bury my face in my hands and cry. When I grabbed the package off the doorstep later that afternoon, I saw chili and cornbread muffins and coloring books for the kids, and I sobbed. The kids colored, and we ate a dinner that I didn’t have to make, and it fed deeper than physical hunger because each bite was a reminder of someone who saw me, who loved me, who was going to make sure I was taken care of that day. I knew my friend thought this was something small, but to me, it wasn’t.

It’s not small to make dinner for your struggling friend.

It’s not small to get a sitter so you can go to her granddad’s visitation or funeral.

It’s not small for you to remember that Granddaddy had the same birthday as Adelaide or his American flag cane or that you saw him a million times at our church growing up and that he was always kind. 

It’s not small at all. Not to me.

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