
With God’s help and the support and encouragement from my husband, family and friends, I finally published a book. It’s a short, funny children’s book based on a poem that I wrote and posted right here, many years ago. It’s titled, “If I Were a Turkey“
I’ve learned that sometimes you just need to finish something, not because it’s perfect, but because it’s real. I had talked about this idea for so long that it became easy to stay in that safe space of “someday.” But there’s something deeply satisfying about crossing that line, seeing the final product, and realizing it’s yours. It’s proof that you followed through and that you can do it again.
The fear of failure can quietly hold us back from the very things God is calling us to do. Yesterday after church, I spoke with my granddaughter Cali about her lesson on Moses and the burning bush. It reminded me how God can call us in many different ways—often when we feel the most unprepared.
Granted, publishing a book isn’t anything like what Moses faced, but learning new software programs certainly wasn’t my idea of fun either. I had to figure out Canva, BookBrush, Kindle Publishing, and several other tools that were completely new to me. There were moments I felt overwhelmed and frustrated, but with prayer and encouragement, each task was slowly accomplished.
Moses had a profound fear of failure and a daunting task before him. Yet God’s response was simple and reassuring: I will be with you. Moses didn’t need to be perfect or confident; he just needed to be willing.
Each of us has been given gifts and talents by God. They are not meant to be hidden away in fear but used in faith. When we trust that He will equip us for what He asks us to do, our fear becomes smaller and His strength becomes greater.
Now go! I will be with you as you speak, and I will instruct you in what to say.” Exodus 4:12



Outside this morning, I remember being on my knees, in the dirt, pulling weeds. I felt the slight pull from my incision site as I shifted positions and I was reminded how far I have come in just a few short weeks. Mind you, as they passed, they felt like long grueling weeks. Overwhelmed with thankfulness that I am over the worst of it, I sat back in the grass, listened to the birdsong and reflected.

There is something so deliciously satisfying about an afternoon nap; joyous partly due to the sheer infrequency you get to enjoy the pleasure. There you are, adrift on the ocean of peaceful slumber so sweet, languidly waking, body warm beneath a cozy blanket. Equally wonderful is slowly coming alive to the sounds of a fire and family; book pages turning, quiet conversation, a soft snore from someone enjoying the same wondrous pleasure;
When my eldest was around 3 years old, she began to express her fears or concerns with her own original phrase that I thought was just precious.



