February 2026

Rest and Risk. Wherein my sister compares me to Teddy Roosevelt.

From the Garden

Five or so years ago my dad, husband and I pulled railroad ties off a trailer and placed them in two four by eight foot rectangles, where I was determined to grow a garden. On the north, east side I pressed flakes, disc like hollyhock seeds into my new raised beds.

In February of 2026 I didn’t even enter the space where my two original raised beds lie fallow. I have not watered, weeded, tilled, planted or harvested a single green thing. But from my kitchen window this morning as I lazily poured myself a cup of coffee, and heated the water for my goat-milking duties, I was captivated by the towering, flowering hollyhocks growing in the very place I planted them (and in other places I didn’t plant them) many years ago.

In 2026 I started the One Year Bible reading plan, which I have never done. February was a lot of Leviticus, a wild book of ancient liturgy, laws, celebrations and seasons. One reading caught my eye, “Whatever the land produces during the Sabbath year can be food for you… All of its growth may serve as food for your livestock and the wild animals in your land.” My little plot of land I’ve been feeling so bad about neglecting, has been enjoying a sabbath! My goats have been getting armfulls of overgrown bermuda grass. The wild desert bunnies are getting bellies full of lettuce and arugula. And the pollinators are buzzing at the mouth of the hollyhock and arugula blooms. I even took in three handfuls of red peppers still growing on my little pepper bush.

I am reaping the fruit of the work I put in years ago in this season of rest.

In a culture of efficiency, productivity and artificial perfection, a faithful rhythm of work and rest feels rebellious. My little plot-- it’s full of weeds and needs to be cultivated, but the dirt-under-my-nails work I did years ago, intentionally plotting out a garden in the desert, is still producing fruit in a season of rest. It’s not polished, rigid so-called perfection. But it is wildly perfect in its rebellious rest.

Marriage and Book Thoughts

My husband wrote that note to me in 1992, while we were dating

On February 28th I turned in the first draft of my manuscript for Baker. I’ve entered an arena I’m confident I will leave with a limp and scars.

Besides the imposter syndrome nagging, moping and whining around in my brain, there’s the reality that I’ve just opened my life up to the world. There’s also the temptation to live off dopamine hits from likes and follows, chasing the glass algorithm carrot that will leave me useless and insane. There’s the comparison thief, always trying to steal my joy. And there’s the reality that this is my first book for goodness sakes, and it’s a book dealing with marriage! I mean come on! Even Beth Moore swore she would never write a marriage book.

But here I am, in the arena with the beasts of the internet, the beasts in my mind, and the powers that want to blaspheme the name of God, and would love to do so by disgracing his name through sinful saints like me.

Have mercy on me, Lord. Have mercy on me, a sinner.

My sister tells me I’m like one of her favorite presidents-- Theodore Roosevelt. “You’re not sitting on the side-lines. You’re in the arena, sis!” She’s a very good sister.

Roosevelt’s words are inspiring for sure:

It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat.”¹

I am prone to cold, timid silence. My default is passivity, absorbing conflict, without entering into it. For me, even approaching my husband to say, “Hey, I want to write a book. What do you think?” Or, “We haven’t dated for weeks. You’re important to me… I feel distant.” Or, “I’m sorry for being rude, and snappy earlier,” feels risky. It pushes against a childhood religious narrative I believed for many years-- that a woman should be quiet, absorb conflict, not address it, and definitely not say or do anything that could make a man (especially a husband) feel uncomfortable, or challenged. My personality, and the stories that formed me, bend me towards staying as far away from all arenas as possible. And trying to make everyone in the arena happy if I have to enter one.

It’s Christ who has led me out of fear and passivity into living from power, love and sound thinking. It’s Christ who leads me into the arenas of conflict, and every conversation my nervous system tells me is risky. He’s definitely the one leading me to enter the arena of publishing a book with Baker on the subject of practicing the Christian faith in marriage when your spouse doesn’t believe.

So here I am. More Gideon-like than a Gladiator for sure. I entered the arena with a limp and scars from the many ways I’ve erred in marriage. It’s risky to follow Christ in learning to love another well. But I believe it’s worth the risk.

As I often say-- it’s not a waste to spend your life letting Jesus teach you to love another well.

My editors have my manuscript for the next month. Then it’ll be mine for a few weeks of round one editing. Followed by a round two of editing shortly after that. Lord willing, by this time next year it will be in the hands of men and women in the world who feel torn between their love for their spouse and their desire to practice their Christian faith.

Today my husband and I talked about the titling process. He said, “You should call it-- Why Being Married to a Non-Christian is Easy.” (smile)

He doesn’t see what the big deal is. He doesn’t see the arena. But he does support me in using my skills, pursuing my passions, doing what I believe God would have me do. I’m so thankful for that. I love him so.

Your Thoughts/Ideas/Questions

I am trying to plan out some essays, and posts on the subject of practicing the Christian faith in marriage with an unbeliever. If you have a particular question or thought on that topic I would LOVE to hear from you. Please feel free to drop a comment or send me a message. I’d love to hear your ideas as I make plans for these essays and posts.

1. Theodore Roosevelt, “Citizenship In A Republic”, delivered at the Sorbonne, in Paris, France on 23 April, 1910, https://www.worldfuturefund.org/Documents/maninarena.htm