Announcing: here, in the week of it all
A Holy Week series
There are many who say it’s best to wait until you’re on the other side before you write the story, before you say the words, before you tell what happened. There’s wisdom in that, but if I'm honest, when I’m in a middle place I don’t only need to hear from those a chapter or two ahead… I need to know I’m not alone on this page.
Here, in a middle place.
Here, in the in between, holding both the grief of Good Friday and the joy of Easter morning.
Here, one full year after writing “Easter has passed and I'm still waiting on a miracle.”
Here… still… waiting.
Still watching. Still hoping. Still getting angry. Still working to forgive.
I’m still learning to rejoice in the ruins and sing in the shadows.
I’ve been split wide, knife in the back, tears rushing like a faucet with a broken knob. This time of year holds memories stretching back to childhood, but it’s the more recent ones that bring me to my knees, the pattern of the rug temporarily indented on my skin. Sometimes the calendar says Spring and life says “huh, maybe next year.” Sometimes Winter lingers long after the ice melts, the flowers bloom, and the birds begin to chirp from limbs that are filling once again.
Sometimes our hearts break right alongside the seeds splitting open, new life pushing up from the depths while our own world shifts, flips, turns a direction we never saw coming.
If I’m being brutally honest, I hate what these days hold. All who know, and the knowers are few but they’re true, say there’s no understanding it, no way to make much sense of it, except to hand the muchness of it all over to the One who holds these days, too.
And so that’s what I’m going to attempt to do this Holy Week, and I want to invite you to join me.
Over the last few days, I’ve spent hours in the thin pages that tell the story, hours waiting and listening, hours writing words to send your way over the coming week. Half is ready and half is yet to be, but I trust He’ll give them in time. For now, I’m glancing up from this desk with a tiny gold mirror above, smiling at the sight of messy hair that can’t seem to stay in the clip and the pajamas I never changed out of and the mess behind me, and inviting you to join me in the mess, in the muchness, in the both/and that this week holds.
Introducing . . . an 8-day Holy Week email series called
here, in the week of it all
From Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday, each day I’ll send an email with a reflection, a song to sit with, a verse to meditate on, and pictures from my time in Israel. I’ll also send a brand new phone lock screen, 5x7 print, and 8x10 print.
This Holy Week email series will go out to everyone who is subscribed to All The Things. Instead of creating a PDF ebook that’s available to download for $10 with a fancy sales page and check-out platform, I’m keeping it simple (and less $$) by including this within All The Things. You can upgrade your subscription below and cancel immediately after Easter, wait until the entire month passes so you also receive the March/April ATT extras—or stick around for lots of extras every month to come!
I’m gonna shoot straight with you, share the behind-the-screen info because we may not have ever met in person, but I really do consider us friends here.
I’ve created email series for many author clients over the years, but haven’t done so here before. Truthfully, I went back and forth on this for a couple weeks. Would you be interested? Would the price point be a barrier? And, practically, because my living expenses have unexpectedly tripled in 2024 (it’s not worth getting into but good grief and ohmyword), I had to ask myself if I could actually afford to take a few days off work in order to put this together. The Math is not my strong suit (says the girl who had to retake Algebra 1 in high school and holds a college degree that required only 1 math class), but when I calculated it all out, it’s verrrrrry unlikely that I’ll “break even.” And yet… I need this series myself. And I know there are a number of you, friends, who have commented/sent DMs/shared that you’re walking through A Lot and waiting on a miracle, watching and waiting for Spring. So, for me and for you, however many of us there are, even if it is just me and you… let’s ask together:
Where is Jesus in these days? In the A Lot and the Too Much, the hosanna and the how can it be, the deep betrayal and the bewildering silence and the sustaining joy.
Let’s look for Him together, here, in the week of it all. He will meet us in the Muchness.
There’s goodness to be found.
If you’re already a paying subscriber helping to keep the lights on by supporting this space, you’ll automatically receive here, in the week of it all. (Thank you, truly.)
If you receive Thursday Things + new blog posts for free and would like to receive all the extras for a month (the Holy Week series + other All The Things extras that are already planned!), upgrade below and cancel any time.
If you know someone who might enjoy here, in the week of it all, you can gift it! (Sign up for the monthly option for your friend, then just be sure to set a reminder on your calendar to cancel on your end after the series concludes on Easter.)
If you would be willing to share this on social media? I’d be so grateful. I have a hunch the algorithm will bury these two posts, since they point away from IG/FB, so your support through a like/comment/quick share to IG Stories (etc) would seriously mean a lot. Here are direct links to the Instagram and Facebook posts. (Thank you, thank you.)
And lastly: If this email series isn’t for you right now? Totally okay. This is simply an extra you can opt into if you want to, a way to support me/my writing/the paying of the bills—but in a way where I can give something back to you over the coming days. I’m grateful you’re here—free or supporting financially—and will be back in your inbox down the road with the regular emails you previously said yes to: Thursday Things + blog posts.
Grace and peace to you in the muchness of these days, friend.
For you, if you need a reminder that you aren’t alone + a little bit of encouragement as you navigate a chapter you wouldn’t have chosen → Even If Not: Living, Loving, and Learning in the in Between