About
Dear Friend,
If you’ve found your way here, I have to believe it wasn’t an accident.
Maybe you’re in a season where everything looks fine on the outside. The job, the routine, the smile you’ve learned to wear so well. But underneath — something feels off. Empty, even. Like you’re going through the motions of a life that was supposed to mean more than this.
Or maybe it’s louder than that. Maybe you’re in the questions. Why can’t I just be like everyone else? Why do I keep making the decisions I make? What is wrong with me?
I want you to know — you’re not alone in that.
There was a season when I felt the same way. Lost. Different. Almost spiteful of being myself because I couldn’t figure out why I was the way I was. I didn’t know who I was supposed to be. I just knew I wasn’t it yet.
And in the middle of that — a whisper.
It came through a number. Thirteen. I saw it everywhere. On clocks, receipts, timestamps, places I wasn’t looking for it. At first I didn’t know what it meant. I didn’t know if it meant anything at all. But it kept showing up — especially in the seasons when I felt the most lost.
Over time, the whisper became clearer. Not louder. Still quiet. But clearer — because of who it came from.
Trust Me. Trust who I made you to be. You are exactly where you’re supposed to be.
Years later, I learned that the Hebrew word for love — ahava — equals thirteen.
The number that found me in my lowest moments was love. It had always been love.
Here’s what I’ve come to believe:
There is a presence in the room with you right now. Not one you forgot to look at — one you didn’t know to look for. A love that has always been there. Always carrying you. Always measuring you as worthy — long before you learned to measure yourself on a different scale.
You don’t have to earn it. You don’t have to fix yourself first. You don’t have to figure out who you’re supposed to be before you’re allowed to be loved.
You already are who God says you are. The only thing left is to stop living like you’re not.
That’s what Thirteen is for. Not to convince you of your worth — but to remind you. To create space for what God is already doing. To help you discover your purpose and live it out — not someday, but now. Not perfectly, but faithfully.
There is nothing you need to do to receive this love.
But if you want to go deeper — you’re always welcome here.
How I Write.
Ideation drains me.
Not the writing. The ideas.
Ask me to sit down and generate a list of things worth saying and I will be empty inside of twenty minutes. It has always been that way. It is one of the more frustrating things about how I am wired, because it sits directly in front of the work I want to do.
But hand me a question and something else happens.
I can turn a question over for hours. I can sit with it, weigh it, hold it against scripture and against my own life, and come out the other side knowing what I actually think. Considering and deciding gives me energy. Generating costs me energy. Those are not the same thing, and I spent a long time assuming a writer had to be good at both.
So here is what actually happens when a piece gets made.
I use AI to ask me things. It queues up questions and possible directions, and I look at the list and choose. Then I write. Not an outline, not a summary. Every thought I have on that question, in whatever order it comes, for as long as it keeps coming. That part is mine and only mine. Then I hand the pile back and it gets organized into something a person can follow from beginning to end.
The thoughts are original. The order is assisted.
I want to be honest about a second thing too. For years I did not call myself a writer, and it was not false modesty. I wrote when something moved me, which is a real and good thing, but it meant I was expressing a thought rather than making a piece. And I did it inconsistently. So I don’t think I am a writer. I would rather think of myself as someone with thoughts, who would like to express them.
What changed is not that I found a shortcut. It is that the part that used to stop me is no longer the part I have to carry alone.
I am telling you this because there is a lot of suspicion right now about what is real and what is assembled, and I would rather you hear it from me than wonder. If you read something here and it lands, it landed because it was true in my life first. It came from my own thinking, my own convictions, and my own reading of scripture.
The help I get is with shape.
The heart is mine.