BEHOLD.
(the art of looking deeper)
Welcome.
This is a place for the soul to find rest, for the heart to dance.
A place for marveling at the beauty and mystery of God’s kingdom in one hand while holding the pain and paradox of life in the other.
This is a space for questions that ache, for quiet wondering, for commonplace revelations.
Here, I will share my journey of uncovering the beautiful real nestled within everyday realities.
I’m so glad you’re here.
Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God:
But only he who sees,
takes off his shoes…
-e.b. browning
It begins in Montana with my grandmother, as so many of my dearest and best stories do. Drew and I visited her several weeks ago, and each time we see her I come home exhausted—not because of who she is, but because of the energy and focus it takes to live in constant paradox when beholding her, holding her. At any given moment, I feel as though I could break down weeping with the anticipated grief of losing her or burst out laughing with the sheer joy of being in her presence. I love her; she is 90; any goodbye could be my last. This time, on the last morning we were with her, my grandmother’s eyes took on a mischievous glint as she pulled out a neon-colored machine from behind her couch. She positioned the machine just-so, and flipped a lever. . .