Photo of marigolds by Kim

In recent weeks, my life has been completely disrupted. I didn’t ask for it, and it’s totally unwanted. It isn’t that life was perfect before. But I’ve worked very hard over the past year to create a more peaceful, healthy life for myself and my husband. I have made massive progress in my healing, and now I’m struggling through each day with extra responsibilities, unanswered questions, a bit of worry and fear that I’m trying my best to entrust to Jesus, and new routines. It has been a lot for me, but it is even more so for my sweet husband.

A few weeks before this life change, I had hoped to grow marigolds from my mother’s dried seeds. I had carried those seeds around for years, saving them, cherishing what I hoped they would grow into one day. Well, I waited too long to plant, and nothing grew from the dead seeds. I wrote more about waiting too long here.

So, after getting good soil, new marigold seeds, adding lots of sunshine and water, and even some prayer, I finally saw a few green leaves poking through the pitch-black soil. I planted two pots on my patio that I see first thing in the morning and each time I come and go from my home. I’m sad, of course; these flowers aren’t growing from my mother’s garden. But one is growing; the other shows no signs of life. Sounds a lot like my current reality.

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To the one struggling,

I know what it’s like to bear too many burdens. To struggle beneath the weight of the world around you while silently feeling a weight on your heart. Doubt, fear, pain, struggle, and suffering are pressing in on you. Faith, family, career, church, friends, hobbies, and more all try to find a place in your life.

It can seem all too much.

But Jesus knows everything you’re going through. There is not a single thing you are walking through that He doesn’t understand, and none of it caught Him by surprise.

Women bear all sorts of burdens. Some gladly, others from necessity. Some are unwelcome, but resistance seems futile without massive change. But when heavy burdens are placed on you from the legalistic church, that’s a different kind of cruelty. And too often, these expectations only increase the pressure. Pressure to be better, do more, try harder, and achieve a new level of faith. All of that is bull$&!#.

Do you want to know why I feel that way?

Do you want to know what I did about it?

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I’m writing this from my bed, as I wait for my husband to wake. I have no idea what the day before me will hold, but I’m clinging to my faith to see me through.

Last week, my husband suffered a series of medical episodes that resulted in a hospital stay. You can read more about that below. I can’t bring myself to write about it. My life, our lives, have been forever changed, and there is much we are uncertain about. For now, I’m caring for him, trying to care for myself, and I’m figuring out what my income-producing activity will look like. I will keep writing, as that is a part of me that I can’t shut off. I need to keep writing. But my schedule for it will look a bit different for the next little while. So please bear with me.

I’m sharing a link below to what our son has created to help us navigate this situation, so please help if you can. And please share it far and wide, because we humbly need a lot of help right now. I appreciate you, every reader of my words, and pray I continue to bless you with them. Thank you, and God bless.

GoFundMe.

Sometimes, the damage doesn’t have to be permanent for a thing to be ruined.

Meg Muldoon

I feel like I have been living this for so long. There was damage, there are scars, and residual hurt I was left to face and deal with, but I have and am still.

You can heal, but something might still be ruined. Not able to be repaired. Broken.

But that isn’t me. It might be the situation, but it is most definitely not me.

I hear from readers all the time that they feel this way, too.

So what can we do about it? We can pray about it together.

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I often feel as if I’m stuck in the waiting room of life. Waiting for a situation to change, a relationship to be repaired, an uncertainty to become predictability. Much of the time, nothing changes, and the wait continues.

I learn the most about myself and about my faith in Jesus (and in other people) during these challenging times. The wait might sometimes be for my benefit alone, but often the waiting I endure is for the sake of someone else. God knows and sees things I don’t. He is always working in my life and in yours. Transformation follows His timeline alone. As much as we might want to, we cannot rush things along.

I need to stop the desire to skip ahead to the good part. There’s growth in the middle. There’s a plan and purpose to it all. Sure, skipping to the good part, the end, the resolution would be great. Or so it seems. But there’s a reason for the waiting. God is in it with us. We aren’t left alone to fend for ourselves and figure it all out. We might never figure it all out this side of eternity, and we need to be okay with that. We don’t have to like it, but we do need to accept it.

The only way out of a waiting season is to go through it.

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The wait shapes our character. It helps point us in the right direction, giving clarity that can sometimes only come from time. By no means is waiting easy, especially when you’re waiting on other people. But fighting back against angst and frustration strengthens us and helps shape our faith. We learn so much that we can’t otherwise. This is hard-earned wisdom given by God, but we must endure the wait. He alone sees the finish line.

Our trust and faith grow when we allow God’s will to be done over our desire to be done.

You might be waiting on someone’s repentance, your physical healing, financial relief, a diagnosis, a prodigal son, time in hospice, clarity for next steps, wisdom for a decision, a day off, a promotion, your one true love, or a host of other things. I know I’m not the only one waiting for things on that list. The wait is not easy. While you’re in it, it always seems too long. But we can trust God in the wait.

We come through to the other side having gained more than we realize. It isn’t only that we may receive repentance, a promotion, or meet our special someone; it’s that we are changed in the waiting. Even if what we wait for never comes to pass, that does not mean God fails to use our time in the trenches. And even if our waiting does not end in this lifetime, we still gain so much.

We gain a stronger faith. We now better understand our need to be grounded in the truth of God’s word. We place greater value on prayer. We understand the need for encouragement and how important it is that we offer it. We can now comfort someone walking through the same challenge.

So as much as we dislike waiting, let it do its work. Let it work all that God has for us in the messy middle of it. Amen? Amen!

What are you learning in the messy middle of waiting?

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Share The Messy Middle

I see the same trait woven through generations of women in my family, and I am so thankful I, too, have been gifted with it. Staying power. In my DNA, moxie lives on, passed down from women long ago. This determined spirit, this non-budging strength, this lasting will has served the women in my family very well. I already see that same fierceness in my oldest granddaughter, and I catch a glimpse of the woman she will one day become.

In each of us, this gift has shown up a bit differently. For some, as quiet strength, and in others as boisterous courage. Through tears, pain, sorrow, and struggle, this grit, power, and courage have been a thread I can always count on. I know the environment I grew up in helped shape this characteristic in me, and my adult life has also been an excellent teacher. I am not saying it was easy. It certainly hasn’t been pain-free.

I am so grateful to have this internal strength, a gift from God, because I have to access it more often than I would like. Life can bring opportunities to summon courage, but you can only be courageous if you feel fear first. Fear is an excellent motivator to exercise your courage muscle, and mine has gotten quite the workout in recent years!

You don’t always realize how afraid you are until your moxie starts to rise. Then you stand up for yourself and for what’s right. Knowing you won’t break, you give it everything you’ve got and keep moving forward.

God didn’t gift you traits to keep them quiet, unused, and hidden. No. He deposited these gifts within you and will nudge you to use them at the right time. I’ve wondered how I survived some situations in my past, and yes, God carried me through them, but He also brought forth this moxie that discerns right from wrong, encourages the wounded, and ultimately points people to the truth of God’s saving grace.

I’m thankful I have grown into a courageous woman.

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I am a goals-driven person and love to plan. On paper. With highlighters. And a good pen. And when the middle of the year rolls around, I check in on my goals, see progress made, and make time to celebrate. I also reevaluate my goals and make needed changes for the rest of the year.

Often, life does not go according to plan. I’ve learned not to freak out when that happens! Wisdom can come with age. But to be honest, even scheduling this post caused me some frustration and a few challenges. One accidental click resulted in a line of mistakes I couldn’t come back from. So, I had to roll with the punches and fight the emotional meltdown.

This month in particular, I have some extra disappointment and unmet expectations I’m dealing with. Some parts of my life feel unfinished. Not only a few goals, but a few relationships. But if I’ve learned anything in life, it is that you cannot make people do anything, especially when it involves repenting of their sin.

I can only be responsible for myself and my actions. I’m focusing on what I get to do and not on areas of life where my expectations are ahead of God’s perfect timing. I’m sharing what I’m going through in the messy middle of my life, and hopefully I’m encouraging you right where you are.

I also wanted to share a few Substack authors who encourage me and have helped me in this mid-year focus. I know I’m not alone in life’s messy middle, and they, too, are working through their own unmet needs, expectations, challenges, and also sharing their wins and blessings. They help me see the light in darker times. They help me focus on my blessings. Their words spur me on right when I need them most. Many, like me, share deep, honest things from their life. Like them, I try to encourage my readers, and I pray my words help you to keep going for another day.

I wanted to make you aware of them and their publications in case you haven’t met them yet! Pour yourself a cup of coffee and enjoy reading.

“Still Finished” by is number one on my list because he is my husband, best friend, and the biggest grace-distributor I’ve ever met. If you want truth and grace, read what he shares.

“Sacred Ever After” by lands in all the right ways. She never backs away from a pain point in her life if sharing it will help someone else. She helps me.

shares her humble personal life experiences, always pointing to the truth of Jesus and where her trust lies. She is always encouraging.

“Field Notes From Your Therapist,” authored by , always lands in my inbox at exactly the right time. When life feels heavy, his wise words help.

And by no means least, publishes Little Sparrow Loved and unpacks a messy walk of faith that many of us understand. Reading her words is a deep exhale for my soul.

I could go on and on because Substack is full of hidden gems, people that make you laugh and bring a smile to your face, wise and encouraging words, the truth of the gospel of grace, and hope for today. I’m taking some time this week to adjust my mid-year goals, expectations, and hopes for the rest of the year, and to read these other authors’ words and be encouraged.

I’m still learning, even at age 60, that life can get better. Your best days can lie ahead of you. Reading what others go through and how they get to the other side of a challenging season helps me keep going.

Enjoy reading, friends. And reply with one thing you’re learning halfway through the year. We can encourage each other!

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Some things never leave you.

It might not become a part of your story, told and shared, but it happened to you.

The memory doesn’t fade, but the edges soften so it no longer cuts deep. You don’t allow it.

The nearby shadow doesn’t keep you from the sun, try as it might. You have grown too strong for that. You don’t allow this, either.

The lingering of it, the reminding of it, causes tears but also growth. Allow those tears to water your future life.

You pushed back and fought for yourself. Others should have. They let you down.

But here you stand, still. Strong, at a level of peace that comes with age and maturity, and from hard-earned healing.

Here you stand.

Here I stand.

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Do you remember the small, white, heavily-scented cubes of bath salt that would arrive in stores every Christmas? They came in a multi-pack, each cube wrapped in floral paper that described its scent. I loved receiving those in my stocking. It was something special, anticipated, and appreciated. But I didn’t use them very often. I saved most of them so long their scent was gone. I can still remember when I did use one, and the way the scent would assault my nostrils right before I’d drop a cube into my bath water. Fizz, fizz, and it was gone.

Growing up, I would save gifts like this, personal notes, and other sentimental things, but over time, I let some go. Life has a way of filling up, and you can’t take everything forward with you. But I still find myself afraid to use some things, believing I’ll miss out on something special. I wanted to hang on to the thrill of Christmas morning and being gifted something just for me, something I looked forward to receiving and even using. But I’d save most of them. I would set them aside to help me remember the way I felt, but I think I didn’t use these gifts for fear I wouldn’t ever get another one, and the memory would go away, too.

I recently planted some marigold seeds I’ve carried from home to home, state to state, hoping to grow flowers. These seeds are from my mother’s marigolds, which I dried and saved, hoping they would bloom. I chose the pots and the soil, added water and sunlight… yet nothing. I had waited too long. I didn’t try, take a small risk, or take the chance for something better and more beautiful. I held onto these seeds, clinging to the idea of what they could become and to the memory of what used to be. I thought that one day it would be the perfect time.

The perfect time never was and can never be.

You can hold onto happy memories, but make more of them by being unafraid to try, to do, to move ahead.

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photo of Dobbin’s Lookout by Kim White

Getting out of your regular daily routine is not only good for your mental health, but also for your spiritual health. I’ve seen more evidence of this in my life recently.

My husband, is my forever favorite adventure partner. And oh, the adventures we have had over the last 42 years! No matter what life dishes out, we do it together. Dobbin’s Lookout was a recent adventure that I needed badly. God used it in more ways than one, like He tends to do.

We’ve been feeling a spiritual stretch lately. It has been one of those times, heck, it’s been years, where God is refining things in us and sharpening our iron. We’ve seen why. God is always at work, and even when we don’t understand all the reasons for His busyness, we can trust Him.

Getting stuck in a routine can put your mind to sleep, and you go on autopilot. You might need that to survive a day, but you can’t live that way. You need to participate in life. Your life. The one God gifted you. I’m all about order and a plan for my day. I do not like surprises. But I’ve learned I need to be open to God changing my plans for His. To be open to spontaneity. To delight. To blessings that come from getting out of my comfort zone.

I get out of my comfort zone every time I go to work.

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Some things need to stay in the rearview mirror. Left behind.

Maybe it was never meant to be in the first place.

Maybe it was.

Maybe it is for the best. This is where I land.

Leave it in the rearview mirror.

People move on, and sometimes they don’t take you with them. Wish them well.

Sometimes you’re the one who leaves. We don’t all walk through life at the same pace or in the same direction. That can be heartbreaking. But, even though it hurts, you know you have to leave them with the version of you they’re willing to accept.

Leave it in the rearview mirror.

You can love someone deeply, maybe your entire life, but you cannot let that love blur the truth of a situation. Boundaries are necessary and healthy for relationships. Some are willing to accept yours, others, less so. If the relationship is abusive, unhealthy, one-sided, or otherwise dysfunctional, you are allowed to leave. That is the most loving choice you can make for yourself and for them. They won’t see it that way, of course, but the gift of hindsight brings clarity unlike much else.

Perhaps it’s best to leave the memories as you left them.

Some memories are meant to fade.

Leave it in the rearview mirror.

Maybe it isn’t so much that the situation or the other person has changed. I know I have changed. I am not who I once was, thank God. I can’t go back. I won’t.

What is no longer mine can stay in the past. It might have been a part of me once, but no longer. I can choose what to carry forward and what to leave behind.

You can choose, too. Choose carefully, prayerfully, guided by fact, not only feelings. Move forward, spending less time longing for what was, so you don’t miss out on what is and what can be.

Leave it in the rearview mirror.

So much of life is loss. People come and go. We grow and change. We can move on. It can be better.

You can’t reclaim or revive a situation that’s no longer yours. That includes relationships.

Leave it in the rearview mirror.

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They made me a mother.

I had never been that full of joy and wonder as I had been when I discovered I was pregnant with this child. I sat there, on the floor, in the early hours of the morning, after taking a home pregnancy test, staring at the white space on the stick, just waiting.

I had no idea how my life was about to change.

Once the test read positive, I sat there. My husband was sleeping, and I took a few minutes alone with Jesus and my unborn child. I was thankful, humbled, and in awe of the gift I now carried within me. I’ll never forget those few, precious moments when I felt like I held the most amazing secret.

Motherhood is one of the most challenging experiences of life. It is also one of the best blessings. Every stage of my children’s lives was full of highs and lows, and I was there for all of it. There were unexpected blessings that came from mothering. I learned so much about patience, kindness, long-suffering ways, and how to operate on very little sleep for a few decades. Meals were prepared, lunches packed, homework assisted and checked, tests prepared for, laundry done, recitals and competitions paid for and cheered at, and more hugs and kisses than there are stars were given. And that’s just the first few years of life.

But, somewhere along the way, children grow up.

It might be a certain age or maturity level that defines this point in life, where your child outgrows their need for their mother daily and can pretty much sustain their own life. Age eighteen does not automatically make an independent adult.

With that growth comes decisions that might not be the best for that child, or the parent, for that matter. But if an adult child is making their own choices, there isn’t much a parent can do when those choices cause deep hurt, are based on lies, or are a rejection of everything you taught them growing up. Almost the worst thing of all is when your child rejects you as their mother, publicly states this, and goes on to introduce the world to their new mother. In their eyes, not everyone is cut out to be a mother, especially you.

My child is a Judas.

Someone I love, still, even in the face of such deep pain and betrayal.

When I was facing the death of my mother, my child, this person close to my heart, my friend, thought they could kill off their mother using the kiss of betrayal.

Not so fast. You can’t bleach your DNA, no matter how much you might want to. You might reject me, but you cannot cancel or erase me from your story, try as you might.

My child might feel they are chosen for this time of retribution. They are wrong. Try as they might, they find no one to agree with their lies and accusations. Some people remain cowardly silent, ashamed of their behavior toward their own.

You see, mothering unleashes things within a woman no one, except another mother, can fully understand. The lifetime of a mother’s prayers does not go unnoticed or unanswered by God. This is the very life of a mother. Sacrifice, others-focused, seeing potential in her children, and pouring belief into them until they can see it in themselves.

I am a mother, and that fact cannot be killed like it never happened. I bear the scars of my children’s birth on my body, and the truth is just that.

Jesus hears every prayer, sees my tears, knows my pain, and remembers, as do I, when my child’s heart beat beneath my own. Being a mother is not the whole of who I am, and I have a lot of love to give, encouragement to offer, and ministry to be about.

My Judas betrayed an innocent woman, their mother.

My prayers continue.

If you find yourself in a similar situation, it is more common than you might think. There are many of us walking this painful path. You are not alone. Let me know if I can pray for you.

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Happy Mother’s Day to all those celebrating, and for those of us who are struggling a bit today, I wish I could hug you.

Living in this world without your mother is unsettling, sorrowful, and oftentimes feels cruel. Some don’t have a loving mother, or maybe not one present in their life, and for that, I can’t say enough how terrible that must be. For the mother who cannot hold her child until heaven reunites them, I have not walked that path, but many friends and family have, and I pray for them still. For those who have set boundaries around their relationship with their mother or children, no doubt today brings up a lot of painful memories.

Relationships are complicated. No kidding, right?

This Mother’s Day, I’m working with my husband, doing what we love, and bringing joy to people, and that will help my heart. My son is working today, too, but I’ll see him and his amazing family soon. I am blessed.

So today, celebrate if you want, feel celebrated even if others fail to celebrate you, and shed the tears if need be, because there’s no shame in any of it.

I’m right there with you.

Happy Mother’s Day 2026. God bless the mothers who make the world go round.

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Earl Grey Chocolate Cake, baked and photographed by Kim White

Some days are meant for cake. You wish you could smell my kitchen today.

In days gone by, a Sunday family dinner and cake were a thing. A big thing. This meal was lovingly prepared and eagerly awaited by all. Sunday family dinner is still important, dare I say mandatory, in some families and cultures. Less so in the modern age, which is sad. Typically, throughout the meal and conversation, hearts soften, smiles happen, laughter is heard, and tears may fall. Things are worked out. Cake helps.

These days, we lack connection and commitment to people, not always through fault, but through busyness. We can’t be all things to all people all the time. I prefer having a smaller circle of friends and staying closer to them. Fun fact: I’ve met some of my closest friends through social media and loved meeting them in person! Add cake, and it’s the best kind of get-together.

Family, faith, friends, work, education, and many other priorities fill our time and schedules. It’s understandable and common that some relationships take a back seat for a season. But you still need to eat. Why not come together to fill that basic need? You don’t need to eat every meal in the company of others, but do it for at least some of your meals, if possible.

A weekly family meal doesn’t need to be 100% homemade. You can still gather together over takeout, and no one will be offended. And if you’re not a baker, remember that bakeries make some outstanding cakes, just waiting to be brought home to your table.

Cake is meant to be shared.

Cake can be mailed to someone who could use a sweet reminder of your love and care.

Cake can be a great way to renew a relationship. Hear me out.

Baking a cake takes time. You gather the ingredients, prepare the batter, bake the cake, let it cool, and then serve it. Purchasing a cake requires effort, too. And if you choose to mail it, there’s extra time, effort, and expense involved. Your care, thoughtfulness, and love accompany each step, no matter how your cake journey begins.

I bake Earl Grey Chocolate Cake because others enjoy it, and it is one of my son’s favorite desserts. Each step offers an opportunity to think about the people who will receive it, to pray for them, and to consider how it will bless them. They are blessed not only because it tastes delicious, but also because time and care were invested in making it for them. The Earl Grey Cake recipe is included for paid subscribers below.

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You don’t have to live the same kind of life forever. You don’t need to be only one thing, live in one place, or do the same things on repeat. That kind of mindless life isn’t much of a life at all. It certainly isn’t the kind of life God calls us to.

The life of a Christian is one of contrasts. Some days/years are a walk through the deepest, darkest valley. In other seasons, you’re found on top of the mountain, breathing in fresh, clean air, with the best views around.

It is both. The good and evil. The easy and hard. The up and down.

And we all land in the messy middle of it day after day.

This kind of life requires bigger faith than what you have now. It takes wisdom, more than you gain on your own. And the amount of trust you believe you need to make a change seems massive, but you can’t hold back from changing, even when it seems ridiculous to go ahead. You trust God. Some change might seem in line with what’s normal, but there are times God might lead you in a direction you never saw coming.

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The Sunday reset has gained popularity in recent years, and I understand the hype. I have my own version of it, and it does help me hit the ground running Monday morning. I love Monday mornings! If you follow along in the Substack app, you’ve seen my Monday morning desk photos more than once. The fresh start, a new planner page, a clean slate, and open opportunities ahead inspire me.

I love a Sunday reset because I’m a friendly introvert and require quiet solitude to recover from and prepare for time spent with other people. Knowing this about myself helps me stick to my weekly reset and also my nightly routine. Both bring about calm order and a grounded peace I can’t achieve any other way. It sometimes feels like a luxury to reset after a long week and in advance of a new one, but it isn’t so.

My Sunday reset isn’t an indulgence; it is a necessity.

My Sunday reset might not happen on a Sunday if I’m working. But it happens weekly, still. Church, meal prep, maybe some baking, changing the bed linens, and doing any extra laundry, extra time reading, cleaning off my desk, and acknowledging all I accomplished the week prior are included. I wrote about how I acknowledge effort and growth here. I get my home and heart settled and focused before a new week begins.

I also have a nightly reset for myself and my home.

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My mother’s death was a crucible.

It was among some of the worst pains I’ve endured. But I endured it.

It was my honor to walk with her through the valley of the shadow of death.

But I remember her house in the wee small hours of the morning when she passed. The silence was heavy. No “you’re beautiful” along with her deep, connecting stare. There was no more of a lot of things.

Yet, I was surrounded by so much life; the contrast was extreme. It hurt, too.

I asked all the questions I needed answers to and said everything I wanted to say during her life. We were good. I know she loved Jesus and has now met Him face-to-face. I don’t weep for her because she isn’t losing. But I do sometimes weep, still, because I miss my mom.

When mom died, she unlocked something in me I call moxie. I feel that word is the best descriptor of her last gift to me. I’ve often been called determined, but the courage unleashed within since she began her dying journey is unlike any courage I’ve ever felt. I carry that gift forward.

But the silent hole she leaves behind in my heart will be there until I, too, am face-to-face with my Savior. Until that day, the silence is deafening. No more mixing cornbread, no more shuffles to the bedroom, no more turning pages in a book. The pen and pad sit as if she will return to write this afternoon. She won’t, of course, but it’s as if time stands still in her home.

Sometimes it feels like time stands still in my heart. Everyone around me carries on with life because that’s what the living do.

It’s what I must do, too.

Death is finite, an ending, a change usually unwelcome. It can bring relief to the suffering, and for Christians, it is the beginning of a new life and the end of our old one.

It might feel disrespectful to carry on. You might even believe there’s no possible way to do so. But you will.

You will persevere. I will. I am. Thanks, Mom.

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Lately, I’ve been asking myself a simple question:
If a friend accomplished the same things I have, would I be proud of them?

Of course I would.

So why do I hesitate to extend that same kindness to myself?

Part of it may come from how I grew up. Tasks were to be completed, no ifs, ands, or buts. Over time, that shapes how you see your own accomplishments. Learned behaviors are hard to unlearn.

Sometimes I also struggle with a bit of imposter syndrome. I worry that people overestimate my abilities. I occasionally assume that my success is due more to those around me than to anything I personally bring to the table.

Because of these long-held ways of thinking, success often feels less like something to celebrate and more like a task to complete before moving on to the next one. I don’t pause. I don’t soak in the moment. I don’t recognize the effort that went into what I just accomplished.

Praise doesn’t always sink in emotionally. But interestingly, that doesn’t mean I have low self-esteem. It just means I’ve developed habits of thinking that overlook my own progress.

So I’m working on changing that.

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I hope that if you go to a church service this morning, you hear the true gospel of grace. Jesus made a way for us to live forever with Him, and for our sins to be forgiven. Life isn’t fair - for us - because we don’t get what we deserve. It would seem fair that we get the punishment our sin demands. Thankfully, God offers…

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Sometimes I find my overthinking mind full of chatter and ridiculous scenarios that have little to do with reality. I fall down a rabbit hole filled with idiotic ideas and thoughts, and have to talk or journal myself out of it. These thought trains aren’t typically frightful; more often, they’re hilarious. There’s no way, in any stretch of the imagination, these things will actually happen. Yet my mind goes there anyway.

The one thing that reliably gets me out of the endless cycle of overthinking is closing stress loops. But even knowing this fact, I don’t do it often enough.

Unfinished projects bother me more than almost anything else. Their unfinished state occupies mental energy and is the impetus for my hilarious thinking. I can’t stand unfinished things. If I have a project, especially one that’s nearly complete, that remains stagnant and never crosses the finish line, my mind goes into overload. I ask useless questions of myself. Doubt creeps in. Frustration builds. And, believe it or not, my brain starts generating entirely new projects. And I’ll typically begin one! I do this to myself repeatedly. Why does it go this way, God?

Right now, I’m writing my next book, writing for Substack, working on a puzzle that has overtaken my dining table, I’m learning several new songs for our musical duo, and I’m ninety percent finished crocheting a cardigan. My DIY list for the house mocks me endlessly. There are errands to run, groceries to buy, a dinner and baptism to plan for, and I really need to deal with my split ends. That’s just the things I can think of off the top of my head for this week alone. I’m sure there’s more I could add.

Recently, I’ve noticed one pattern with unfinished writing projects.

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