I took away my own existential crisis privileges, and honestly it's going pretty well.

My ambition came back recently, and instead of feeling relieved, I felt guilty. Turns out there's a stage of grief nobody really talks about.

My official submission for a new faith campaign. 

A handwritten letter from one of the most faith-filled people I know reminded me that the person making you feel like you belong rarely knows they're doing it.

Turns out Jesus didn't follow consistent patterns, and what that means for how I'm learning to live my own life.

A churro, a daughter, and a reminder that the thing you're most self-conscious about might be exactly what someone else needs from you.

Loyalty is powerful and it matters enormously where we place it. I learned this the hard way when loyalty to a person kept me stuck somewhere I shouldn't have been. Then a friend told me something that changed me: you don't have to be loyal to your suffering.

This episode is a quick inventory. When we're more devoted to an influencer, a pastor, or even a skincare routine than to our actual divine source, we're one bad decision away from a crisis. People fail. God doesn't.

The goal of this podcast has always been to point you back to your own relationship with God, not to me. I'm just a girl sitting in front of a microphone.

(Diet Coke gets a pass.)

A woman at church yesterday put words to something I've been feeling but couldn't quite name: the pressure to be negative. Not just cultural pressure to be negative, but the sense that despair and outrage have become the moral high ground. That if you're a good person paying attention, you're angry and hopeless and posting about it. I share a personal story about a time I got called out for not posting about an immigration situation while I was quietly helping families in my own neighborhood, and I make the case for a different way to fight. Hope is not naivety. Positivity is not opting out. And I think normalizing both of those things right now is actually the harder, more important work.

I've been noticing the same theme showing up everywhere in my life lately, so I'm putting it on record. I believe God is inviting us to graduate from black and white, checklist-style living into something harder and better: holding complexity, living in the gray, and letting that be the standard. I get a little niche with my Mormon faith to make the point, but it applies everywhere. When we stop box-checking, performative action loses its power, judgment gets harder to justify, and we finally get free enough from ourselves to actually love other people well.

I share a newly articulated belief that's reshaping how I follow God: everything He asks of me is for my own good. Not because He needs something from me, but because He doesn't need anything at all. I unpack my past season of atheism, what I used to get wrong about jealousy and commandments, and why choosing this as a baseline assumption makes trust a whole lot easier.