 Hey friend,
Some of you have known this space as The Hermana Blog… and while that season mattered deeply to me, I realized something important: everything I write, speak, and create has always been pointing to the same truth — God is faithful in the middle of the mess. So as we head into a new year, I’ve brought everything under one name: ✨ Miracle in the Mess ✨ Here’s the back story and how you can become a contributor:
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“You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him. But go…”
-Mark 16:6-7, NIV “HE’S HERE! BABY JESUS IS HERE!” Gather around the manger this morning and look, there He is! Jesus. A Savior born to us. Guess what? He remains here. The promise of Christmas is that Jesus didn't stay in the manger. He didn't keep His profession as a carpenter. He didn't hang out only with the disciples. He wasn’t left permanently on the cross. He didn't even become swallowed by the grave. Instead, He conquered death and upended the power of sin. He ascended to heaven and left us with His Spirit. So, He stays, with us, in us, and through us. As a result, Christmas morning is a charge to do one thing… 
“For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together.”
-Colossians 1:16-17, NIV God isn’t Santa, He’s sovereign. But, we like to imagine Him as Santa. We desperately seek happiness and fulfillment. So, when something seems bad or a negative emotion arises, we try to run from it. Basically, the rule is this: If it’s bad it’s Satan. If it’s good it’s God/Santa. The reality is that bad things can happen and God can still be working them out for our good. 
“A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse; from his roots a Branch will bear fruit. The Spirit of the Lord will rest on him— the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding, the Spirit of counsel and of might, the Spirit of the knowledge and fear of the Lord— and he will delight in the fear of the Lord.”
-Isaiah 11:1-5, NIV Our first Christmas season as a married couple, my husband and I lived in a snow globe. Out of our window in Aspen, CO, I would watch the dance of snowy, white dots before the evergreens while I listened to the rivers roar. While our view was picturesque, our studio apartment was not so dreamy. It was tiny. To give you some perspective, I cooked on a hot plate and washed our dishes in the bathroom sink because we had no kitchen. The only tree that would fit inside was basically a Charlie Brown tree. It was only about a foot tall and bent a little toward one side because I insisted it must have a little star on top, though it could barely hold the weight of it. As I started to place presents around our "tree," I found a clue to what God was up to when He created Christmas. 
“The angel went to her and said, “Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.”
-Luke 1:28, NIV Did you know that Mary, the mother of Jesus, was a teenager? The Jewish tradition of that time was girls were married around 12 or 13 years old. It’s estimated by some scholars that Mary was probably between 13 and 14 when she gave birth to Jesus. Can you imagine God appearing to your teenage self? 
There are two kinds of thankfulness: the easy kind, and the kind that you offer in the midst of a fight.
The easy kind flows when life is peaceful, kids are getting along, your heart feels full, and everything goes as planned. Of course we’re thankful for these things! But the other kind — the battle-cry kind — is forged in the middle of anxiety, sleepless nights, unanswered prayers, and overwhelm. That kind is a sacrifice of thanksgiving. It’s worship…and warfare. As soon as it’s offered, it changes the atmosphere. The longer I walk with Jesus, the more I realize: Gratitude isn’t about being positive. It’s about being postured. It’s not a self-help, fluffy tool. It’s a weapon. It’s obedience. It’s faith… 
There are seasons when our prayers feel like they’re still being written.
This time last year I was a shell of myself. My body had become stuck in fight-or-flight mode. I couldn't sleep at all, could barely eat. It felt like my brain had broken and I had no idea how to get the pieces back together. After a trip to the ER, a psychiatrist appointment, counseling and deliverance sessions, and lots of support from my family and friends, I finally started to slowly exit my way off what I call the “hamster wheel,” the endless cycle of my OCD thinking. My brain had become locked in on sleep, obsessing over it to the point that I couldn’t rest. I couldn’t even really sit down. I was broken and I needed help. I cried out for deliverance. Every night, when my fear became the greatest, I would sit beside the Christmas tree with my Bible and journal. I would whisper and write prayers to God until I fell asleep in that chair. It was the only place I could rest for a while, right there in the arms of Jesus. So, I get it. If you’ve watched the clock tick and the calendar pages turn. You’ve carried longing in your chest like a stone, wondering whether God heard, whether “yes” is coming, or whether you’ll ever see the “yet.” And in that place—right in the middle of the incomplete, the undone, the still-becoming—you can still give thanks. Because gratitude isn’t an offering we present to God when everything’s tidy. Gratitude is a posture of the heart that whispers, “Even if …” 
I don’t know about you, but slowing down doesn’t come naturally to me. My default speed is “go.” Between motherhood, ministry, writing deadlines, and the ever-growing list of to-dos, I’ve often convinced myself that the faster I move, the more faithful I’m being. After all, productivity feels a lot like purpose—until it doesn’t.
Somewhere along the way, I realized that gratitude and hurry can’t coexist. One always chokes the other out… 
There’s a kind of gratitude that never makes it to Instagram.
Not because it isn’t beautiful, but because it’s quiet. Subtle. Hidden in the kind of moments no one claps for — the sock folding, the toddler tears, the seemingly ordinary Tuesday where dinner is chicken nuggets with a box of Annie’s mac and cheese and grace covers what energy can’t. As women, especially in a world that celebrates curated thankfulness — the handwritten pumpkin tags, the thanksgiving tablescapes, the picture perfect holiday family photo — it’s so easy to believe that gratitude is something to be performed rather than practiced. That we show our thankfulness by the way we present our lives, not by the posture we hold in the unseen corners of them. But the most transformative gratitude? 
There’s something sacred about the table. It’s where stories surface, laughter spills, and sometimes—healing begins.
Around the table, we learn to ask questions that go beyond “How was your day?” We begin to ask, “How’s your heart?” As part of our “At the Table” series, I wanted to finish out our month strong by inviting you into a conversation that I was able to have with some incredible women at an event called Bloom in Charlotte, NC. As a part of a panel, I was asked a series of questions and wanted to share those responses here. Below you’ll find —a reflection on healing, identity, and what it means to walk with God through the long, slow process of becoming whole. If I were taking notes from what I shared at Bloom, this would be it. BUT if you want to listen to the full answers live, make sure you check out the Miracle in the Mess Podcast. May these questions and those at the very end of this blog spark your own At the Table conversations when you’re ready to share a little more heart and soul… |
