PUBLISHER’S LETTER + LETTER FROM THE EDITOR
By Linda Evans Shepherd & Amber Weigand Buckley Linda Evans Shepherd I was seven years old, and I can still feel my small hand tucked into my father's strong one.…
By Linda Evans Shepherd & Amber Weigand Buckley Linda Evans Shepherd I was seven years old, and I can still feel my small hand tucked into my father's strong one.…
It took me 52 years—over 5 decades—to understand why. Why I got in trouble as a kid for not sitting still. Why no planner, app, or color-coded system ever stuck. Then somebody finally gave me the right words: neurodivergent. ADHD. Not a character flaw. A different wiring—not broken, just different...
Who, what, when, where, why, how—the bones of every good story. I built a whole career on asking those questions about other people. What I didn't realize, until much later than I'd like to admit, is that I'd had them backward when it came to myself...
This month’s cover story isn’t just a profile. It’s just another whispered answer. An answer that hit me right where the Father has been reaching into me all along‚ in the many ways He shares His heart and direction with His children...
Here’s the thing: I almost gave up. Not because I didn’t know what I wanted to say, but because I got stuck between wanting to be teachable and knowing I had a mission that didn’t fit the template. It felt like sinking into a mud bath—uncomfortable, a little dirty, and I wasn’t sure if I was being cleansed or suffocated. But I had to sit there. I had to type out the conversations in my head. I had to let the discomfort do its work.
Remember Eeyore? That gloomy donkey convinced everything was conspiring against him? I’m seeing his “everything’s raining on my parade” attitude showing up everywhere—life is constantly holding us down, holding us back. But here’s the hard truth: we create the atmosphere and we bring it with us.
Here’s the thing about those Pinterest quotes, those “Choose Joy This Christmas” signs—when you’re at your lowest, they just bounce off you. They’re flat. One-dimensional words that don’t mean anything when you’re suffocating inside your own head while everyone else is singing carols.
I like pink, but on this particular September day, the shade of pink wasn’t one I’d choose—a tie-in-the-front top that came with very specific instructions that made vulnerability a mandate—not the option.
I’ve always carried “keep calm and carry on” as my personal motto, even before I married my British hubby. But I recently discovered I’d been getting it all wrong...
Have you ever been tired—deep in your soul? The kind of tired that sleep doesn’t fix, where the weight of everything feels too heavy to carry? The world keeps demanding more, no matter how much you give, it never seems enough.