Kelly offers hope and healing from traumatic life issues and deep loss

The Taste of Salt

I came to the ocean hoping to rest, but even surrounded by sunshine, salty air, and beautiful waves, I couldn't stop the tears. Relationship struggles don't disappear just because the scenery changes. Last night, sitting alone with the Lord on an observation deck, I discovered something I needed. I didn't have to solve anything. I could simply breathe. Maybe peace doesn't require everything to be fixed. Maybe I can taste the salt of my tears, feel the ocean mist, and appreciate the beauty around me anyway. Read "The Taste of Salt" in this week's Wednesday Letter.

What If Something Happens While I'm Gone?

After losing two children, my fear of what might happen while I’m away isn’t hard to explain. In this Wednesday Letter, I’m sharing how I’m preparing for a month away while trying to stay present for the journey.

Rest: A Step of Faith

A whirlwind week ended with my parents’ funeral and a return to everyday responsibilities. As I begin to process the grief and old wounds it stirred, I’m realizing that making time to rest may be my next step of faith.

When Life Topples

Grief, funeral preparations, work, and everyday responsibilities have stacked on top of one another. Everything feels as if it has toppled, and the tears have spilled over the mess. For now, I’m doing what must be done today and trusting God with tomorrow.

No Words

I write for a living, but this week, I didn’t know what to write. My dad died two weeks ago, and I’m tired. There’s been a funeral to plan, family to contact, travel arrangements to make, work to do, and regular life just keeps going. Sometimes “Help me, Lord” is about all I’ve got. Romans 8 says the Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness and prays for us when we don’t even have the words. I wrote about this in this week’s Wednesday Letter because I know I’m not the only woman who’s reached a place where there just aren’t any words left. If you’re carrying a loss that’s left you tired or without words, I hope you’ll read this week’s letter. When we run out of words, God hasn’t run out of ways to hear us.

I'm Tired of Change

I’m tired of change. There. I said it. Usually, I can find something hopeful to say about a new season. I can talk about trusting God with what’s ahead, looking forward to what He’s doing, or remembering that change can bring unexpected blessings. Today, I’m just tired.

No Timetable for Moving Forward

After my dad’s wife died, he didn’t change much of anything. Her things stayed where they’d been. The house remained much as she’d left it. For him, there wasn’t any sudden cleaning out of closets, redecorating rooms, or getting rid of reminders of the life they’d shared. Other people respond completely differently. I’ve known widows who’ve begun cleaning out their husband’s belongings...

The People Who Need You Don't Always See Your Pain

Grief doesn’t always look like tears. Sometimes it looks remarkably capable. On the thirty-sixth anniversary of my daughter Alisha’s accident, I was still working and caring for everyone around me, but internally, I was tired. One thoughtful gesture reminded me how powerful it is when someone sees beneath all our doing.

Finding My Way Back to Peace

My nine-year-old daughter, Alisha, is buried at Dry Creek Cemetery in Boise, Idaho, 812 miles from my home in Frederick, Colorado. After Alisha died, we visited several cemeteries in Boise, trying to choose her final resting place. Nothing about that task felt natural. Parents are not supposed to choose cemeteries for their children. Then we drove through the entrance of Dry Creek Cemetery and saw a plaque bearing these words:

Perhaps It's Just a Butterfly

I see yellow-and-black butterflies often. Sometimes one floats past while I’m outside. Other times, one appears when my thoughts have wandered to my son Jason. I always stop and watch it. Sometimes, the butterfly seems to follow me from the front to the backyard.

When Home Doesn't Feel Like Home

“When I die, I want to be buried in Boise,” Alisha told me. We live in Colorado. In a way only God works, we were in Boise when Alisha died three weeks later. Still out of state after Alisha's accident and funeral, a well-meaning neighbor attempted to clean out Alisha’s bedroom before we came home.