Deborah Edgar

I’ve been carrying something heavy lately. Not a crisis, not a single dramatic event - just a deep, persistent flatness. A kind of quiet exhaustion that no amount of busyness will fix. And I’ve been trying to figure out what it means. The truth is, I’ve been living with significant physical pain while simultaneously navigating several serious health challenges. Nothing terminal, but the kind that occupies your mind and body completely. The kind that most people around you can

Just when I least expected it, God did something beautiful. What started as a simple, almost hesitant question - “Would anyone be interested in exploring the Bible together?” - has become one of the most unexpected blessings of my life. There was no grand plan. No sense of readiness. Certainly no vision of leading anything. And yet… here we are. Week after week (12 to be exact), a small group of women has gathered - showing up not because we have it all figured out, but beca

There is a particular kind of loneliness that can show up in grief - not because you are alone, but because you are surrounded by people who have not yet met it. Last night, I sat at a dinner table for six with strangers, ironically all of us attending the same spiritual conference. Two married couples and me. Kind faces. Easy conversation. Shared intention. And beside me, an empty chair - literally and figuratively, in all the ways that matter. The space where Jon would have

Today marks another trip around the sun. Sixty-nine of them, apparently. One short of 70. Which feels impossible, because in many ways I still feel like the girl squinting toward the horizon asking, “What’s that?” When I look back, the landscape of my life is anything but simple. There were childhood years shaped by fear and confusion, living under the shadow of a narcissistic mother and abusive stepfather whose cruelty left marks that took decades to understand and even long

More snow is predicted for Sunday. Seriously? It’s Friday. And the headlines read like a weather roulette wheel: Maybe a flake. Maybe more. Rain, turning to snow. How much? Nobody knows. It could be one flake or an avalanche. Anybody's guess. Literally. It would be funny if it didn’t feel like everything else. Because it’s not just the weather. It's grandmothers stolen from their beds in the middle of the night. An arrest overseas while we politely ignore corruption at home.

I didn’t always understand what self-love really meant. For most of my life, I thought love was something you earned - through productivity, through proving, through showing up for everyone else first. I thought love was something that came from the outside in . From relationships. From validation. From being chosen. After all, that's what I was taught as a child being raised by a narcissistic mother. I believed I had to earn love. It wasn't until Jon and I met that either of

Some weeks don’t just feel heavy. They feel jolting. This past week has been one of those weeks for me. I've experienced the weight of our broken world, some health issues I wasn't expecting but must face, and the impact of a fall on ice that just made everything worse. And that's just a few highlights. It doesn't include the "little" things that fall to the bottom of the pile but add significantly to the heap. It's been one of those months the last few days. I won’t pretend

When I was a little girl, I was shamed by my parents for nearly everything - my appearance, my thoughts, my feelings, my body, my actions. Shame wasn’t an occasional experience; it was the atmosphere. It was deeply ingrained. And, so, it became something I carried into adulthood. It's something that still shows up quickly when I make a mistake. Because of that, I’ve had to work hard to untangle the difference between shame and regret. They can feel similar, but they lead us i

For years since Jon’s death, I have asked him for signs. Not small ones. Not subtle ones. I asked for bold clarity , something unmistakable that would let me know he is still near, still guiding, still witnessing my life as I live it forward without him. There have been bold moments as well as quiet reassurances and gentle nudges. Many of them. This past weekend, it happened again. On Friday night, a Facebook friend sent me a private message. She told me she had been reading

I used to think my life was a series of broken chapters - stories that didn’t connect, losses that didn’t make sense, wounds that never quite closed. I thought I was just surviving one thing after another. But standing here now, I see it differently. I wasn’t breaking. I was becoming . Every grief, every unraveling, every moment I thought I was lost was quietly shaping the woman I am today. This is not the story of what happened to me. This is the story of who I chose to beco