My Unruly Garden

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Allowing Storms to Stir Up Restoration

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I was mad on this hike.

While I was grateful for the deeper-level healing and revelation God had brought over the past couple years, we were wrestling, yet again, with a burden that would not leave me.

Minutes later, I notice the sky changing. A monsoon began rolling through on the horizon at sunset and I thought, “Right on time, God.”

There was already a storm stirring in my soul, so it felt like His personal invitation to pour it all out.

Lightning was striking, while I was crying out to Him:

“Why won’t you release me, bring clarity, and provide peace on this?”

I was desperate to understand why this burden, this ghost of my past, wouldn’t leave me. I was exhausted and I felt abandoned.

While storms can stir up feelings of judgement, more often than not, they’re stirring up God’s plan for healing and restoration.

Through the lightning strikes and my whirlwind of emotions, I still held onto the truth that He saw me, He was not rejecting me, and His grace was sufficient to carry me through these deeper roots of healing that would ultimately bring clarity.

Genesis 16:13; Psalm 9:10; 2 Corinthians 12:9; 1 Peter 1:6-7

Storms of blessing and storms of hardship—they all count.

To understand how I arrived at this storm in Santa Fe, I need to explain the storm in Oregon.

When I arrived in Oregon with a fresh start and a new blueprint for rebuilding my life, a different kind of storm hit me. An unfamiliar kind— a storm of blessing.

Before I even had a chance to fully unpack, God was already aligning me with people, places, and opportunities that reflected prayers I had carried for decades.

For the first time in my life, I felt seen and understood. Not on a surface level, but on a hidden level.

Conversation after conversation, someone would offer a story, a gift, an opportunity, or a piece of encouragement that felt custom-tailored to this restorative path God was leading me down.

Each moment felt like a key unlocking treasures that had been buried deep within my soul.

But instead of fully receiving these blessings and stepping into the community God was placing around me, I took a page from Jonah’s book.

I ran. I went to Santa Fe and told everyone I would be back.

And instead of returning to Oregon afterward, as I had originally planned, I ran all the way back to my hometown.

As I was sitting in Sunday School class recently, and the teacher pulled up a map as he was teaching Jonah’s story (right on time, God.), I didn’t think it was a coincidence that the distance Jonah ran was strikingly similar to the distance I ran from my original commission back to my hometown.

Arriving in late November, I was thoroughly convinced I was here to plant roots. The past season out west, I reasoned, was simply a time for healing, exploring, and reconnecting with my authenticity.

Meanwhile, God was still orchestrating His blueprint, while I was slowly beginning to realize I had pulled another Jonah.

While there had been a storm of blessing in Oregon, the storms in Santa Fe and back home felt like a different kind.

There was an uneasiness in my soul I couldn’t shake. While I smiled and told everyone it felt good to be home and, in some ways it really did, something kept stirring beneath the surface.

As God was pointing me back to Oregon, I explained it away. Surely this was my desire, not His. I’m romanticizing the past—Oregon wasn’t without its challenges.

To double down on my commitment to rooting in my hometown, I even bought a home.

Yet the uneasiness remained, particularly as opportunities were not feeling aligned and it felt like more doors were shutting than opening. I felt stuck, caught in a holding pattern.

As a couple opportunities circled back around from Oregon, and they were aligned with the vision God gave me, it was becoming increasingly clear that this season in my hometown wasn’t about rooting.

It was about grieving. It was about letting go of the hope I had attached to a future in my hometown that was no longer unfolding the way I expected.

It was then that God illuminated a new passage in Hebrews 11 to provide clarity—

“If they were thinking about where they came from, they would have had an opportunity to return.”

Hebrews 11:15 CSB

This season was my opportunity to return— to grieve, to release my plans, and to let go of what I thought my future was supposed to look like so I could step back into the original commission He had given me.

Learning how to receive love after storms of trauma.

Looking back, I realized the storm wasn’t ultimately about Oregon, Santa Fe, my hometown or even the vision God had given me.

Beneath all of it, He was exposing a deeper wound:

My inability to receive the very love, belonging, and care I had spent years praying for.

It wasn’t until I was sitting in my ancestral church listening to a sermon that God connected the final dots.

The preacher was teaching about the woman who had been bleeding for 12 years.

This was the same story God had used to speak to me, as I had emotional bleeding from deeper-rooted cycles of trauma that occurred for decades.

In the weeks leading up to this sermon, I kept encountering this scripture again:

‘And he said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace. Your suffering is over.”’

Mark 5:34 NLT

I knew He was trying to show me fresh revelation. I just didn’t understand what.

As the preacher shared the deeper context around the word “sickness” and how the body can sometimes reject something beneficial when it is ill, my tears started flowing.

Not out of sadness, but out of relief as He was connecting the final dots.

While I sat in the church pew with tears flowing, God brought me back to a moment in Oregon. The week before I left for Santa Fe.

I was connecting with a friend at an art gallery event. As we talked, she shared another layer of her story—one that deeply encouraged me to continue following where God was leading.

As the evening was ending, she pulled me into a deeper embrace and gave me the longest hug I had ever received.

Long enough for me to realize I wasn’t breathing.

She was offering genuine care, connection, and love. Yet instead of receiving it, I noticed my body appeared to be bracing itself for trauma.

That night, back in my tiny home along the river, I asked God:

“What was that? Why was I so braced?”

I then snapped back to the sermon I was listening to.

The preacher made me realize my heart was rejecting the love that was beneficial because of the memory of my past illness.

While God had healed my heart, my body was still perceiving love as a threat.

Because the relationships of my past often included conditional love , unhealthy patterns, and deeper-rooted betrayals.

In that service, I suddenly realized this lesson wasn’t about simply believing God could heal me and my suffering was over. After all, I had already touched His hem and knew He did.

This next layer was about trusting Him enough to believe those old patterns had truly been broken.

I could open my heart again to receive the love He was providing through other people. It was allowing His love and provision to reach places in my heart I had spent years protecting out of survival.

This doesn’t mean I’ll never navigate betrayal or hardship again.

It simply means, I’m better equipped to set boundaries to prevent harmful patterns from returning, and to remember He is faithful to take what the enemy meant for evil and to turn it for good, as I have seen Him do time and time again in my own life. (Genesis 50:20)

Trusting God’s sovereignty through the storm

He uses the storms to recalibrate our hearts away from patterns of pride and shame that often keep us stuck, to ground us in a center point of humility, where we can rest in His sovereignty to flow forward.

The storms strengthen our ability to trust God’s leading even when it goes against the grain of the world around us.

Even when we take a different route than the one God originally showed us, we can remain bold and confident.

He is sovereign over the reroute. He doesn’t waste the experience, and He has already gone ahead of us to make a way back.

This past year has given me a deeper comfort in God’s omnipresence—

He holds authority over our past, our present, and our future because He already finished the story we’re still actively navigating (Psalm 139), and He is faithful to finish the good work He started within each of us (Philippians 1:6).

While past patterns of pride and shame were whispering:

“You might as well give up. You failed. You’ll look like an idiot if you go back out there and fail again. Are you sure you’re hearing His voice correctly?”

Humility was whispering:

“Try again. This time, a bit wiser, a bit more resilient, and a bit more faithful.

And if it still doesn’t work out, I’ll know it still holds a purpose, even when it feels like I’m stuck in the dot over the ‘i’ in “Jeremy Bearimy” from “The Good Place.” iykyk😉

So when the next storm blows through my life or yours, my prayer is that we stand firm with a dependence and trust that God holds the authority over that storm, and He is faithful to use it for our good, and for His glory.

Devotional prompt:

What storms are you currently navigating? How can some of these lessons shift how you navigate through them?

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June 8, 2026
A Heart Set on Pilgrimage, Learning to Take the “Long Road Home”

A tumbleweed passed in front of my car on this long stretch of road, as I was driving from Oregon to Utah for a short stay to study a hobby farm on my way to New Mexico.

At first glance, a rooted tumbleweed plant can look like a green shrub, blending in with the other desert plants.

It’s only when it dries out, detaches from its root, and begins rolling in the wind that you realize what it truly is.

As I continued navigating the “long road home” with God, I found myself reflecting on what He has been teaching me about the metaphorical tumbleweeds of this earthly life.

The “Long Road Home” is the narrow path.

It’s how I describe the path we take to build our eternal spiritual home alongside our temporary earthly one (Matthew 7:13-14).

It’s easy to forget that we are building both at the same time and that they influence one another. (Matthew 6:10)

We can focus as much as we want on the tangible people, places, and things of this world, but it doesn’t change the reality that we will only carry our spiritual treasures beyond this brief, vapor of a life (James 4:14, Ecclesiastes 1:2).

Here are a few of the lessons God is teaching me on this “long road home”—lessons that I’m still learning to embody daily:

This life is more of a pilgrimage, less of a journey.

“Happy are the people whose strength is in you, whose hearts are set on pilgrimage.”

Psalms 84:5 CSB

Psalm 84 captures our soul’s longing for God’s eternal house, as we navigate the temporary “thorns and thistles” (war, pain, injustice, sickness, sin, death) of this broken world.

For weeks, God kept drawing me back to this verse. It surfaced during prayer and in unexpected moments. I sensed there was a key point still hiding in this passage, and He was patiently waiting for me to dig it up.

That moment finally arrived during a conversation with a former colleague at a friend’s celebration of life.

We were talking after the program, and she was asking me questions about my faith journey this past year.

As I was calling it a journey, she said—“I’m not sure if journey is the right word. Maybe more of a pilgrimage?”

Something immediately clicked. It was a bit of an “aha” moment, where the lightbulb turned on to expose the fresh revelation from His living Word (Psalm 84:5) that was eluding me for weeks.

· A pilgrimage is an eye toward God and His eternal treasure—Seeking first His Kingdom.

· A journey is an eye toward the tangible outcomes or worldly comforts.

I realized I had been toggling between the two.

The key was to learn how to prioritize the pilgrimage over the journey (Matthew 6:33).

I wasn’t wrong to pursue the tangible plans— building aligned relationships, reconnecting with my inner artist, creating the nonprofit, writing the book/devotional, and learning more about ways to connect regenerative farms and community gardens to social services.

These are all part of working toward the vision God planted on my heart in 2024.

But I was still figuring out how to rest in His presence and letting the Holy Spirit lead me.

Stop chasing the tumbleweeds.

“I have seen all the things that are done under the sun and have found everything to be futile, a pursuit of the wind.”

Ecclesiastes 1:14 CSB

Following the “long road home” is not easy in a world that drives us to chase what looks green today, but will be gone tomorrow.

This is why God calls us strangers and exiles in this world (1 Peter 2:11, Philippians 3:20) and reminds us that this earth is not our permanent home. (Hebrews 13:14)

I can recite the passages from heart, and maybe you can too—

· Seek first the kingdom of God. . . (Matthew 6:33)

· Store up heavenly treasures. . . (Matthew 6:20)

· . . .anyone who loses his life because of me will find it. (Matthew 10:39)

Simple truths, yet unnervingly difficult to live out in a world that rewards performance.

Our human nature clings to the green” tumbleweeds we can see—career, relationships, status, control, and comfort—believing they will satisfy and sustain us.

For me, it wasn’t until those “green” tumbleweeds began to detach, dry out, and roll roughshod over my heart’s landscape that I finally began to understand.

By early 2026, almost all of my past tangible comforts were either disrupted, surrendered, or lost.

In that stripping away, I began to see more clearly: God is the only lasting good, and Jesus is the only true home where steady peace can be found, even as life’s storms continue (Psalm 73:28).

It took me years to stand on this truth—to recognize that His peace offers the rest and fulfillment I had been searching for in things that could never fully sustain me.

““Peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Don’t let your heart be troubled or fearful.”

‭‭John‬ ‭14‬:‭27‬ ‭CSB‬‬

This realization shifted something deep within me.

I began to intentionally set my heart on pilgrimage, learning how to follow what I think of as a “Spiritual GPS” rather than the world’s tempting shortcuts.

· “For we walk by faith, not by sight.” (2 Corinthians 5:7)

· “The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.” (Matthew 26:41)

· “Not by strength or by might, but by my Spirit. . .” (Zechariah 4:6)

As I stepped out in faith to embody these verses (no matter how awkward or foolish or imperfect it looked), He was faithful to redeem certain aspects of my myself and my life, both seen and unseen, that I had lost along the broad worldly path.

It’s less about the destination and far more about who we are becoming.

God’s plan for our lives extends far beyond what we can understand. He is a generational God (Deuteronomy 7:9), and each life is one part of a much larger story He has already completed.

We live in what I call the “messy middle,” a story still unfolding for us, but already finished from His perspective.

While we do have free will, we often forget that God is omnipresent. He exists in the past, present, and future. He knows exactly what we are going to do before we do it.

So when we’re thinking we got lost or made a wrong turn, He knows exactly where we are.

When our hearts are turned toward Him, no matter how tangled the mess of our “Unruly Gardens” become, He is faithful to guide, correct, and walk with us through the discomfort.

He makes a way in His timing, and places us where we are meant to be, because our days are already written (Psalm 139:16, Acts 17:26).

He is sovereign and holds authority over our own free will within His greater story.

“We know that all things work together for the good of those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.”

‭‭Romans‬ ‭8‬:‭28‬ ‭CSB‬‬

Even when our plans fall apart—as they often do on a faith walk marked by uncertainty—we can trust that He is still at work, shaping and forming us into His image.

This is how He transforms our “Unruly Gardens” (heart posture), restoring who He created us to be and the purpose He planted within us.

There are moments when it’s difficult to discern His voice from our own or from other competing voices.

Yet, when our hearts are set on pilgrimage and we commit to the “long road home” we become more comfortable with leaving the broad path in the rearview and embracing the scenic route.

Devotional prompt:

What are the tumbleweeds preventing you from prioritizing God’s presence and purpose in your life?

May 2, 2026
Reflecting on Jesus’ Raw Emotional Landscape, A Holy Week Meditation
Holy Week always has a way of drawing my heart to reflect on the raw emotional landscape Jesus modeled, and how it’s healthy for us to do the same.

Longing for His presence

On my hike today, my mind started to wander. I stepped down onto a cluster of rocks where I could stand in a shallow part of Mill Creek.

As I glanced to my right, I gasped—this quiet, majestic gift of a deer instantly calmed my soul.

I found myself meditating on Psalm 42:1-2—

“As a deer longs for flowing streams, so I long for you, God. I thirst for God, the living God. . .”

I reflected on this past year and how He’s drawn me closer to His presence and carried me through yet another cycle of highs and lows, as He continues to heal, tend, and transform “My Unruly Garden” (heart posture).

Jesus is a safe space to pour out your emotions

I don’t know what you’re walking through this week, friend. But wherever you are—know that He understands and He’s a safe space to pour it out.

There’s nothing you can feel that He hasn’t already felt, and felt to the fullest extent.

His presence surrounds you whether you’re:
- feeling seen, yet misunderstood (Palm Sunday)
- flipping tables in righteous anger (Monday)
- confronting your own personal “Pharisees” (Tuesday)
- feeling overlooked, rejected, or betrayed (Wednesday)
- expressing tender, vulnerable love (Thursday)
- experiencing suffering or abandonment (Good Friday)
- waiting quietly in the tension of the in-between (Saturday)
- celebrating restoration and new life (Sunday)
Whatever moment you’re in, I pray that you may know deep in your heart—He’s there to experience it with you.

His presence is a steady stream of living water

And when you get a bit parched in a world that tends to run a bit dry these days, may you discover the treasure of His presence, a steady stream of living water that never runs out.

“But whoever drinks from the water that I will give him will never get thirsty again. In fact, the water I will give him will become a well of water springing up in him for eternal life.”

‭‭John‬ ‭4‬:‭14‬ ‭CSB‬‬

I love you, friend.🕊️
April 2, 2026
Embrace Your Heart’s Banana Slug (Sacred Design)
(Note: Writing from July 20, 2025 when I was living on the south coast of Oregon.)

Shortly after moving out west, I stumbled upon the Pacific Banana Slug.

Every single time this creature slides across my path, I learn a new fun fact about its sacred design. This metaphorical rabbit hole I’ve fallen down has been endlessly intriguing.

With each encounter, this endearing slug has made me feel all the feels, while inspiring me to embrace my own sacred design—
- I’ve laughed aloud hysterically, listening to a zoologist talk through one of their bizarre rituals (I’ll let you dig up that unique gem on your own).
- I’ve had my mind blown while learning about the subtle nuances behind their versatile slime—it’s an adhesive, it’s a lubricant, and it can absorb large amounts of water.
- I’ve even cried standing in a coast redwood forest, reading about their role in the broader ecosystem. They are a staunch defender of the redwood seedlings, devouring the vegetation that tries to stifle their growth.
With every fascinating fact, I’ve stood in awe at how God continues to use this unique creature to provide a new perspective or nugget of wisdom that I needed in the moment.

Embrace your sacred design

As God has me in a season where He is rewilding “My Unruly Garden” (my heart space), this creature has encouraged me to embrace the hidden, and at times not so hidden, eccentric layers of my raw authentic self.

rewild

re·wild (ˌ)rē-ˈwī(-ə)ld

to return to a more natural or wild state : to make or become natural or wild again

From its quirky rituals to its versatile slime, the banana slug reminds us that even the most overlooked parts of God’s creation are marked with a sacred design—and so are we.

Culture rewards polish, packaging, monotony — But God rewards obedience to aligning with who He created us to be. He’s a wildly creative God who planted unique treasures that are hidden within the deepest layers of our heart space. He made us wonderfully unique. And overtime this world subtly layers on masks of protection to tuck those treasures away. To hide our heart’s banana slug.

“Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭139‬:‭14‬ ‭NLT‬‬

While navigating my current walk with God to peel back these layers of worldly conditioning, I’m observing how those surface layers are a packaged façade that mimics “authenticity” but isn’t our raw, authentic, god-given design. We created those false masks to fit in, to survive the harsh critics of humanity, or to hide our core wounds.

It’s hard to fully embody who He created us to be when the world often works against it. Judging us, mislabeling us, misinterpreting us.

So we tell ourselves our masks we wear for protection are authentic, but when you spend time truly examining the mask, you realize it’s simply a more acceptable plastic label society created to hide our vulnerable, unique aspects that were shamed, judged, or damaged over time. And it takes time to peel back and discard these masks, unearthing and fighting for our raw authentic relics that are buried treasure in a world that drives you to fit in.

Fight for your raw authenticity

Did you know the students at UC Santa Cruz fought for five years for their school mascot to be the banana slug? They resonated with this odd, yet endearing creature. The administration wanted sea lions, an animal considered more acceptable at sporting events. But the students stood their ground and cheered for their inner banana slug. And after a solid five-year fight they won over the administration. I love a good underdog story!

As I’m in a season of fighting for my own inner banana slug, this story made my soul sing. Because it’s not just about a mascot—it’s about refusing to conform to the patterns and behaviors that make up the status quo of this world.

“Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will learn to know God’s will for you, which is good and pleasing and perfect.”

‭‭Romans‬ ‭12‬:‭2‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Sing your quirky, unruly notes

So today, friend—Stop hiding your heart’s banana slug. Those quirky little characteristics are the unruly notes that will sing to others as you walk your unique path.

And if no one else wants to listen to your heart’s weird little song, I do.

From My Unruly Garden to yours, I’ll be over here singing with you in the wild, loving every bit of it.

Devotional Prompt:

What part of your God-given identity have you been tucking away to fit in? What quirky gift is waiting to shine in your Unruly Garden (your heart space)?
February 25, 2026
Our Nation of Dry Bones Is Rattling: Are We Tending a Grave or a Garden?

In the midst of today’s National Shutdown, I’m resurrecting this image from my conceptual art portfolio, “Dry Bones (Ezekiel 37),” which began in 2023, as I was examining how God’s love was restoring areas of spiritual decay in the hidden places of my heart, which I call “My Unruly Garden.”

Today’s blog post turns outward, examining the broader “Unruly Garden” of our nation, with a focus on restoration and hope, amid the spiritual decay of fear that threads through current events.

Our nation’s spiritual decay of fear has led some to oppress the very people God calls us to love.

“He shows love to the foreigners living among you and gives them food and clothing. So you, too, must show love to foreigners, for you yourselves were once foreigners in the land of Egypt.”

Deuteronomy 10:18–19 (NLT)

Spiritual decay is produced when we eat the “decoy” fruit that is masking as “good” fruit. In other words, when we choose to eat the fruit of fear and apathy, over faith and love. And the more you eat the decoy fruit, the more spiritually blind you become.

I’m focusing today’s post on the fallout of fear and its effect on those we should be caring for—the foreigners, the poor, and the oppressed.

Fear has become a driving force in our national story—one often muted by the white noise of comfort and complacency. But ignoring it doesn’t silence it. It only makes it louder.

As I’ve watched events unfold in Minneapolis in recent weeks, I was drawn back to the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. While a different tragedy, the same spiritual decay of fear ran through the response. Vulnerable neighbors were portrayed as violent “criminals,” cast as threats from whom first responders needed protection.

I revisited my journal from August 13, 2025, when I watched Episode 4 of Hurricane Katrina: Race Against Time (2025). It rocked my soul then—and it does again now, as we witness the same thread playing out in Minneapolis (and countless other events).

A reporter described the scene at the New Orleans Convention Center:

“These people haven’t seen security here for four days. The fear was that they would turn violent—that they would attack supplies and buses. And look at them.”

(The camera pans across people who are weary, exhausted, malnourished, yet sitting quietly.)

“They’re sitting peacefully. They’re just waiting for a ride that’s taking too long to come.”

In the next scene, retired U.S. Army Lieutenant General Russel L. Honoré, who commanded the Joint Task Force for Katrina, responds:

“I call that the patience of the poor. I grew up that way. You learn to wait. When you’re poor, you lose choices. You don’t pick where your kids go to school. You don’t pick where you live. And you don’t pick where you go to the doctor—if you can get to see one.”

Foreigners in this country are navigating the same reality. Instead of being treated as image-bearers of God, they are treated like criminals. And the narrative driving this distortion is the same one we’ve seen before: fear.

God does not give us a spirit of fear. He gives us a spirit of love.

Fear is not truth. Fear separates us from truth.

These are foundational biblical realities—yet the enemy is skilled in subtlety. He flips the script just enough to normalize death, while disguising it as protection.

The enemy dupes us into tending graves when God calls us to tend gardens.

God’s way restores the broken and cultivates life.

The enemy’s way breaks the broken and produces death.

So the question remains: When will enough be enough?

These current events feel reminiscent of Ezekiel’s “Valley of Dry Bones.” We hear the rattling and assume fear means resurrection is no longer possible—while God waits for His people to call out to Him and speak life.

God, breathe life into this nation of dry bones!

“Then he said to me, “Son of man, these bones represent the people of Israel. They are saying, ‘We have become old, dry bones—all hope is gone. Our nation is finished.’ Therefore, prophesy to them and say, ‘This is what the Sovereign Lord says: O my people, I will open your graves of exile and cause you to rise again. . . When this happens, O my people, you will know that I am the Lord.

‭‭Ezekiel‬ ‭37‬:‭11‬-‭13‬ ‭NLT‬‬

What we need is not necessarily louder rhetoric, but a humbler heart posture—one rooted in acts of love, with a servant heart for our vulnerable neighbors—the foreigner, the poor, and the oppressed. And to treat them with dignity and respect, as those created in God’s image.

“And I will give you a new heart, and I will put a new spirit in you. I will take out your stony, stubborn heart and give you a tender, responsive heart.”

‭‭Ezekiel‬ ‭36‬:‭26‬ ‭NLT‬‬

As the thorns and thistles of this life (death, injustice, hardship, suffering) arise, as they always do, we have a choice—

Will we tend the grave (fear, apathy) or tend the garden (faith and love)?

One path leads to more destruction and death. The other leads to restoration and life.

January 30, 2026
Welcome to “My Unruly Garden”

Sowing seeds of God’s love through the “thorns and thistles” of this life.

Welcome to the humble beginnings of my ministry, “My Unruly Garden,” in a blog format.

“My Unruly Garden” is the name I’ve given the inner-most chamber of the human heart, where God’s love transforms us, heals us, and gives us hope, as we navigate through the thorns and thistles—pain, suffering, injustice, hardship— of this temporary life. (Hebrews 13:14, Romans 8:18)

Healing in “My Unruly Garden” is a bit messy, yet it provides the nourishment needed to build “A Life That’s Home” with Him, where we find our true authenticity, joy, peace, and alignment. (Proverbs 24:27)

This blog site is a mixed “seed packet” of my soul-expressive artwork, testimony, reflections, journal entries, and prayers, on my ongoing journey that started in 2002, to peel back the layers of our worldly conditioning to understand the complexities and simplicities of learning how to love like God loves.

My hope is that God’s seeds of love that continue to transform ”My Unruly Garden” will also transform yours. (Ephesians 3:17-20)

I’ve had many starts and stops in launching this ministry. My old marketing hat had a hard time letting go, as I spent the past year trying to package the “seeds,” into a more polished, branded, linear version via a book/devotional series, and a nonprofit program.

God kept speaking Habakkuk 2:3– “This vision (nonprofit, book/devotional) is for a future time.” He continued to point me back to step 1 —launch the blog titled, “My Unruly Garden.”

I get it, now—Sometimes you just need to start with some “chaos gardening.”
Plant the blog, scatter the seeds, and see what sprouts.🌱

So without further ado, I invite you into “My Unruly Garden.”

No packaging, no polish, no logo—just raw, authentic content from “My Unruly Garden” to yours.

January 9, 2026
The world edits, God rewilds.

Restoring beauty from our brokenness.

(Writing from June 8, 2025 / Photo taken on June 10, 2025)

Walking into my first floral arrangement class, I had no idea what to expect. In fact, “not sure what to expect” has become my new normal. Moving 3,000 miles away from my hometown in the east coast suburbs to a small town where the redwoods meet the Pacific Ocean has been quite the adventure.

When my instructor looked at one of the flowers in my arrangement, she asked if she could pluck it out and “edit” it. Intrigued, I told her to work her magic— I was curious what “editing” a flower meant. She plucked out a Honeymoon Rose (sourced from her friend’s garden) and proceeded to turn it upside down and gently peeled away the dead, warped petals clinging to its base.

This was a perfect metaphor for my current faith walk. In this season, I’ve felt God plucking out certain dead spots in “My Unruly Garden”, examining them, and then removing the sections that are no longer breathing life into my “arrangement”.

“I am the true grapevine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch of mine that doesn’t produce fruit, and he prunes the branches that do bear fruit so they will produce even more.”

John 15:1-2 NLT

The instructor points to the Poppy Anemones—What about these? Perplexed, I couldn’t see what she meant. I hand selected those flowers. Sensing my confusion, she clarified—this one is thriving but this other one is missing some petals. Did you want to pluck it out and replace it with a fuller flower?

I looked at it, smiled and said “No, I’m going to keep it. I appreciate its flaws. It adds a true character to the arrangement. After all, isn’t that reflective of the wild variety of nature?” She smiled and said she loved this.

In my rewilding season, I can see how God is orchestrating everything for my good. My past includes the good, the bad, and the ugly of human nature. As He continues to rewild my heart, restoring it to align with His will for my life, I can see how He has used the missing petals to purify and strengthen me.

Nature doesn’t pluck out a flower when a few petals get damaged. It remains firmly planted. Those missing petals tell its story. We don’t need to hide our flaws. They’re part of our character, our resiliency, and our overall beauty.

“And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them.”

Romans 8:28 NLT

As I was arranging, I meditated on why my soul was drawn to that flower. I didn’t see its flaws. Even when she pointed them out, I couldn’t see it for anything but what it was—beautiful, vibrant, unique. The truth is I have always been drawn to the organic, the wild, the authentic.

Somewhere along the lines, I let the world tell me I had to paint over the flaws. During this flower arranging class, I celebrated this moment, because I knew she was back—my authentic self wasn’t hiding anymore because I saw that flower the way God sees me. And the way God sees you. His wonderfully complex, beautifully-broken creation.

“You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb. Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it.”

Psalms 139:13-14 NLT

There was a season the world conditioned over those parts of me, but I feel the Lord restoring me. Our surroundings mirror our life. And that flower is a metaphor for how I’ve felt in my deeper-level healing this past year, as we’ve uprooted a lot as I continue to heal in “My Unruly Garden.”

Surrendering and submitting to God’s will feels a lot like the gardening process. We pull out a ton of weeds, plant new seeds, and cultivate the thriving native plants that were there all along. Rolling up my sleeves and digging deep to uproot the invasive species left some residual damage that the Lord is faithfully restoring in His timing.

“For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven.”

‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭3‬:‭1‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Some petals did fall off in this season. Those were the relationships and patterns that were not healthy or authentically aligned. And after navigating the unhealthy relationships and patterns of my past, I do have some warped petals, but they are a reminder of the resiliency that was built. While “My Unruly Garden” may look like a bit of a mess at the moment, the rewilding process always does, I know God’s work in my life right now is preparing the soil of my heart for new growth in this next season.

Is the edited flower beautiful? Of course. But is that flawed Poppy Anemone way more beautifully complex? Absolutely. Those missing and warped petals tell its beautifully-broken story. It’s been through some storms, yet it was still chosen and valued for its true character, its heart that doesn’t always appear on the surface.

“. . . The Lord doesn’t see things the way you see them. People judge by outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.””

1 Samuel 16:7 NLT

I will always hold space for the flaws and mistakes of my past because God used them to craft a unique perspective and a deeper well of empathy so I can see through the flaws to the true character and beauty of the flower. And the reason I can see flawed humans through the same lens.

This entire arrangement — It’s a little wild. It didn’t follow all the rules. But it’s honest. It was carefully curated from my soul. And that beautifully-broken Poppy Anemone was my favorite part of the entire bouquet.

Devotional prompt:

What petals in your life —flawed, missing or warped—tell your story? How have those very imperfections shaped your beauty, resilience, and character? Where might God be editing your arrangement, not to make you perfect, but to reveal the wild beauty beneath?

January 9, 2026
Learning how to love like God loves.

My prayer in 2002 planted the seed of my current ministry.

On August 5, 2002, when I was on my knees crying out to God in desperation, shattered from navigating patterns of abuse I couldn’t name at the time, I prayed this prayer in my journal.

God, I want to surrender my heart to You. . .I need you to show me how my heart is supposed to work. I want to learn how I am supposed to use my heart to love. All kinds of love. Please teach me, Lord. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.

23 years later, I now understand the phrase—“Be careful what you pray for.”

Ooof. Even back then I knew learning how to love went beyond the specific situation I was grappling with, yet this was going to be a tall order that would take way longer than a season of heartache to unravel.

This prayer would launch me into a wilderness season that would include 23 years of navigating tests of my faith that would give me the opportunity to learn how to love, all kinds of love.

This would mean, I would have countless opportunities to learn how to love my enemies, as I walked through deep-rooted betrayals, patterns of abuse, manipulated truth, lies against my character, rejection and more.

And all of this would lead to a moment of clarity in 2023, when the “scales fell off my eyes” and I could see more clearly— The enemy was using my “idols” to blind me.

I was chasing love, identity and validation in all of the wrong places, instead of finding it in Jesus, who had been there all along, calling me “home” to Him in the whispers that we miss when the noise of this world (pain, injustice, suffering, hardship, performance pressure) gets loud.

Giving God my whole heart.

When we rest in God’s truth, we learn to love like Jesus loves—from a more healthy place of humility, not a wounded place of pride and shame.

Once I gave God my whole heart, He began uprooting the patterns of pride (judgement) and shame (condemnation) this world conditioned within me, and began cultivating a more humble heart posture (curiosity) so I could learn to love with my whole heart.

“And I will give you a new heart, and I will put a new spirit in you. I will take out your stony, stubborn heart and give you a tender, responsive heart. And I will put my Spirit in you so that you will follow my decrees and be careful to obey my regulations.”

‭‭Ezekiel‬ ‭36‬:‭26‬-‭27‬ ‭NLT‬‬

This process is continuous. We never really get it “right” because the point is to have a relationship with Jesus, allowing Him to mold us, shape us, and form us so we bear Him image more than this world’s.

He has this beautiful, wild, abundant garden for us that unfolds over time, and the enemy makes it his mission to kill, steal and destroy this abundance through subtle decoys.

I had to spend time with God in “My Unruly Garden” (heart space) learning how to love myself first, so I could see myself the way He created me to be; not the way this world conditioned me to be, through years of silent suffering through patterns of abuse; patterns that I can now name after 8 years of counseling and 23 years of God writing my testimony.

And we continue to peel back the layers of conditioning, one painful, yet cathartic petal at a time.

Unearthing the relics of my past.

After I filed for divorce in the summer of 2023, before I even had this theme or project He gave me, I was pouring over old journals to unearth the relics of my past.

My heart wasn’t just in broken pieces; it was pulverized, and I was desperate and exhausted. I needed to figure out why I kept repeating the same cycles.

Why did I keep pouring myself into people who continued to deeply betray me? And I refused to play the victim. I needed to understand this because I knew it was my own decisions and disobedience to God’s instruction that kept leading to my own downfall.

As I read this prayer in my journal entry from 23 years ago, tears began streaming down my face and this led to an uncontrollable wail.

I didn’t have words for it at that point. Looking back, I now know this was Romans 8:26-28 actively unfolding to align me with His will that I am just now discovering 23 years later. Most Christians love verse 28, but I find the most impact in verse 26, because half the time we don’t know what we need, but our Heavenly Father does and the Holy Spirit is our advocate who groans for us in the uncertainty. As I continue to step out in blind faith, I find so much comfort in this, as I rest in God’s love and grace.

“And the Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness. For example, we don’t know what God wants us to pray for. But the Holy Spirit prays for us with groanings that cannot be expressed in words. And the Father who knows all hearts knows what the Spirit is saying, for the Spirit pleads for us believers in harmony with God’s own will. And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them.”

Romans 8:26-28

God’s love for us is beyond comprehension

God’s love and its effect on the human heart is a complexity that I will continue to spend the rest of my life (and ministry) studying.

And I look forward to planting the seeds of God’s love that I’ve collected and, will continue to collect, to learn how to love, all kinds of love.

I leave you with this scripture and my prayer for us:

“And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is. May you experience the love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully. Then you will be made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God.”

‭‭Ephesians‬ ‭3‬:‭18‬-‭19‬ ‭NLT‬‬

From ”My Unruly Garden” to yours,

Stacey

January 9, 2026