Perspective Confessions

100 Days of Prayer – Part 2

Click here for Part 1 of 100 Days of Prayer.

By the end of January, I completed 100 days of prayer.

What I loved most was the consistency—the daily return, the discipline of intention. In a modern world that moves relentlessly fast, continual focus on anything feels countercultural. This practice invited me to slow down, to be deliberate, to remain present with God day after day.

As I approached the end of the 100 days, something unexpected happened.

I realized it was becoming less about what I was praying for.

It was less about my circumstances, less about the situations, and less about what I wanted God to do.

Instead, I sensed a gentle prompting from God—through the Holy Spirit—redirecting my attention to something deeper: my faith.

I captured this realization in a journal entry near the end of the practice:

I realize I’ve been praying similar prayers every day for almost 100 days. I’ve loved this practice—coming to You, God, with greater confidence, knowing what I want to say. It has strengthened my confidence in prayer. And now, I’m beginning to wonder if my prayer should change. I feel more resolved in one situation I’ve brought to You repeatedly. But what I want from You, Lord, is absolute clarity. Will I have that? No.

Lord, what do You want me to know right now? What is true? Faith is not certainty—that’s why it’s faith.

Scripture echoes this truth again and again. Faith is not something we see; it is something we hope for. Hebrews 11:1, “Faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.”

“By faith we understand that the universe was formed at God’s command so that what is seen was not made out of what was visible.” – Hebrews 1:3

Jesus speaks of faith as small as a mustard seed—tiny, unimpressive, easily overlooked—yet capable of extraordinary growth. A seed that moves mountains. A seed that uproots trees. A seed that changes everything.

Matthew 17:20 – “…if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, “move from here to there” and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.”

Mustard seed scripture references: Matthew 13:31-32; Mark 4:30-32; Luke 17:6

Faith, then, is action without absolutes—anchored not in outcomes, but in who God is.

“I do believe; help me in my unbelief.” – Mark 9:24
“Come quickly to help me, Lord.” – Psalms 38:22
“Everything is possible for the one who believes.” – Mark 9:23

Over these 100 days, I began to see that the practice wasn’t meant to guarantee answers or clarity. It was shaping my trust, my faith in God.

God didn’t part the Red Sea for the Israelites after they saw the way forward. He made a way as they walked in obedience. Moses stepped forward in faith long before certainty appeared. Exodus 13:17-22; Exodus 14:21-22

And in my own quiet way, I noticed the same pattern. More peace than anxiety. More clarity of heart than clarity of circumstance. More encouragement than discouragement.

I also noticed how easily my faith drifts and wavers toward earthly assurances—control, outcomes, timelines—rather than resting fully in God. And that’s not where I want my trust to live.

Faith is action without absolutes, but the belief in those absolutes is God. That God is who He says He is.

So perhaps the 100 days of prayer were never primarily about changing my situation.

Perhaps they were about strengthening my faith.

Learning to let go, to let God.
Learning to trust.
Learning to follow—even when the path isn’t fully visible.

Lord, lead the way.
I need You.

Amen.

I haven’t begun a new 100 days of prayer yet, but I intend to.

Why don’t you join me? What has been on your mind and heart that you’d like to talk to God for 100 days about?

He’s ready.

He’s listening.

He wants to hear from you.

The Word I Didn’t Choose

I’m not one to pick “a word for the year”.

I’m not against, it’s just not something I’ve given much focus to.

And, being a writer, maybe I don’t want to limit myself to one word! 😉

But I do pay attention to words that seem to come up over and over again.

The ones I keep hearing.

The ones that start carrying more weight and meaning than they used to.

These are words to pay attention to.

So far, this year, this word has been community.

Community in a Big City

Living in such a big city like Houston makes community complicated.

It’s normal here to live 30+ miles from where you work. That can easily mean an hour commute one way.

After doing that all week, the idea of driving back into traffic to meet a friend can feel exhausting.

Unintentionally, you begin calculating:

What time will I get home?

How late will this go?

Is it worth the energy?

Slowly, isolation becomes practical.

Comedian Nate Bargatze jokes about this in one of his comedy shows.

“In your 20’s you’re down for anything, anytime, anywhere doesn’t matter. If a friend calls to ask if you want to do something, you’re in.”

“In your 30’s, if a friend calls to ask you to meet up, you’re a little hesitant. You ask questions about who is going to be there and when is it over before you commit.”

“In your 40’s, when a friend calls to ask you to do something, you are offended that they’d even ask.”

It’s funny because it’s true!

But beneath the humor is something deeper: as we get older, busier, and more established, connection starts feeling optional.

The Illusion of Independence

Because Houston is so big, it can have a way of toughening you.

This year marks 20 years of living here. While I pride myself on being independent, independence can have a way of hardening you into isolation.

Not because you decide you don’t need people, but because life trains you to manage on your own.

You work.

You commute.

You handle things.

You keep going. And life keeps going at lightening speed.

And you convince yourself you’re fine.

We Said Yes

One of the ways to have a community is in church. Many who attend church in Houston attend what is referred to as a mega-church. A mega-church will have 2,000 or more attendees. It’s very hard to create relationships and be known in such a large congregation.

The church my husband and I attend is called Church Project. It is a church of house churches.

Yes, we gather on Sunday mornings in a church building and we have 2 services to fit everyone.

But how we create community within Church Project are House Churches. These are smaller gatherings usually on Sunday evenings or Wednesday nights in homes usually in your neighborhood.

A group of House Churches connected together as one through Church Project. This is modeled after the New Testament church where people would gather in each other’s homes for Christian fellowship.

This usually entails gathering:

to share a meal

for prayer time

for Bible study

for Conversation

This is a way to know and be known. It creates intimacy and an opportunity to build relationships and do life with others.

My husband and I didn’t participate in House Church for years. We finally decided a couple years ago to start going and we are so glad we did.

It has proven to be such a blessed transformational decision for us.

The Risk of Being Known

For someone who has lived most of her adult life fiercely independent, being known can feel vulnerable, and attending House Church has challenged me in a good way.

The times we’ve chosen to let our House Church in on areas that we were struggling has proven to be the best risk.

We’ve received immediate prayer. We’ve received text messages during the week checking in and encouraging us. I’ve received the most delicate and tender prayer messages.

Most recently, my grandmother passed away and before I left to travel for her funeral, I found a bouquet of flowers and a card on my front door step from our House Church. It was such a thoughtful and sincere gesture.

When you live far from family, grief can feel isolating in a way that’s hard to describe. Our House Church reminded me I wasn’t alone.

After all the time I’ve spent being independent, when you begin being cared for by others, it’s a bit shocking and learning to receive becomes another challenge.

Sometimes you don’t know how much you need community until you actually have one.

It’s not all about receiving. Being cared for and having that modeled for you teaches you how to be a community for others.

I have room to grow in this regard. When others show up for you and show you the love of Jesus, it fills you up in a way that you want to pour out to others.

One of my favorite versus is Proverbs 27:17, “Iron sharpens iron, so one person’s character sharpens another.” This is House Church.

A community that sharpens one another. Sharpening in a sweet way and sharpening in a transformational way. Living in community with others will hold up a mirror, at times, showing you where you can do better and be better.

Small Town vs. Big City

Community came up again while I was home for my grandmother’s funeral. I attended the church I grew up in, where my Dad still attends. So many people came to hug me, share stories, and words of encouragement for me.

This is also community.

This is community of a small town. This kind of community feels natural in a small town.

People come together. People know you, watched as you grew up, has known your family for generations.

These are people that take care of you. And I’m comforted by this as I travelled back home to Houston knowing so many care and love my Dad.

I know that community will come around my Dad, check on him, and love on him when I can’t be there in person.

When you live in a big city, no one accidentally builds deep connection. You have to choose it.

I’m so thankful we have that opportunity with our House Church with Church Project.

The Modern Convenience Problem

We live in a modern world that has made community optional.

Why would you go next door to borrow a cup of sugar when you could have it delivered?

Why talk to a cashier when you can check yourself out?

In the name of “progress” we’ve eliminated community. We’ve forgotten what it means to depend upon others, to be vulnerable, to ask for help, to share a meal.

But we were never designed to live this way.

A Question Worth Asking

When was the last time you let yourself be known?

Not admired.

Not competent.

Not capable.

Known.

Isolation rarely announces itself.

It quietly settles in and becomes the normal.

And sometimes the bravest thing you can do isn’t proving you can handle everything alone.

It’s letting someone show up for you.

So how do we bring community back in our modern world?

By choosing inconvenience on purpose.

By lingering after church instead of slipping out quickly.
By saying yes to dinner even when the commute feels long.
By knocking on a neighbor’s door instead of ordering another delivery.
By letting someone see beyond “I’m fine.”

Community isn’t gone.

It’s waiting for intention.

A Prayer to Begin Your Day

Late in 2025, I began 100 days of prayer. You can read more about it here.

I recently concluded those 100 days, praying intentionally about two specific topics. I plan to write more about that full experience—what it was like and what I learned—soon. Stay tuned.

What surprised me most is how prayer began to weave itself throughout my days more naturally than before.

And I’m certainly not mad about that.

It’s almost as if the structure of 100 days of intentional prayer gave me space to focus deeply, and then opened the door for prayer to spill into other areas of my life. Once I slowed down enough to pray intentionally, I found myself wanting to pray more—about everything.

In the mornings, my prayers look different depending on the day.

Sometimes, I pray a simple prayer as I begin my morning. Other days, I return to Matthew 6:9–13, the Lord’s Prayer.

I also have a prayer I wrote several years ago saved on my phone. Some mornings, I pray it out loud.

And some mornings, I sit with my husband and we pray together.

Lately, this is a prayer I’ve been praying. If you’re struggling to find the words, please feel free to use it.

A Morning Prayer

Lord, lead the way today. Help me to walk in and with Your Spirit.
Thank You for another day. I will rejoice and be glad in it, because this is a day You have made.

I invite You into my day—into my actions, words, thoughts, deeds, and interactions.
I can’t do this day without You, and I don’t want to do this day without You.

Help me remember that no matter the challenges or worries I carry today, You are already there. You already know. You are already working.

Help me to trust You. Strengthen my faith. Help me in my unbelief. I do believe, Lord, but I am still uncertain at times.

Help me remember that You are God and I am not. I am the sinner, and You are the Savior.

I want to hear from You, Lord. I am listening today. Help me hear Your voice above all others.

Thank You for making a way to be in relationship with You through Jesus. Thank You for being kind, even when I struggle to see it.

Thank You for never changing in a constantly changing world. Thank You for the hope of eternity with You.

Thank You for all that You do and all that You are.

Amen.

Ask the Holy Spirit to teach you how to pray—and He will.

When you ask Him, don’t be surprised if you begin praying differently. You may find yourself trying new ways of praying, new rhythms, new words. That’s not confusion—that’s guidance.

The most important thing to remember is this: God wants to hear from His children. Talk to Him.

There isn’t a right or wrong way. He simply wants you.

Grounding my mornings in prayer helps set the tone for my day. Even just a few minutes of pausing before the busyness begins makes a difference.

Use this prayer if it helps—and then make it your own.

Too Much Stuff, Too Little Energy: The Rule of 5

There are seasons when motivation is high and energy feels abundant. And then there are seasons when everything feels heavy—when feeling overwhelmed at home creeps in and even the smallest tasks feel bigger than they should.

This post is for those seasons.

After Christmas this year, I noticed something shift in me. While I was (and still am) genuinely thankful and grateful for the gifts I received, I also felt more overwhelmed in my home than usual. More items. More things to find space for. More decisions.

It wasn’t that the gifts were unwanted—it was that they were more. And that feeling became a signal.

A signal that it might be time to reassess how manageable my home felt. A signal that some organizing and simplifying was needed to decrease the overwhelm. And maybe, down the road, it’s also a signal that our family may need to rethink how we approach Christmas and gift-giving altogether—but that’s a reflection for another blog post and another time.

What I knew for certain was this: I needed a gentle way to move forward.

Several years ago, I had faced a similar feeling while staring at the pile of mail on my kitchen island. You know the one—bills, junk mail, notes, random papers that don’t have an immediate home. It had quietly become the catch-all, and every time I looked at it, I felt behind.

I wanted it gone—but I didn’t have the energy for a full overhaul.

So I made a rule.

I call it The Rule of 5.

The rule is simple: remove five items.

That’s it.

Five pieces of mail. Five decisions. Five small actions. They could be thrown away, filed, or placed where they actually belonged. No sorting marathon. No perfection required. Just five.

At most, it took about five minutes.

There was one important addition to the rule, though. Since mail comes daily, I also had to make sure new mail didn’t undo the progress. That meant immediately throwing away junk mail or filing important pieces instead of letting them land back on the pile.

What surprised me was how quickly the stack disappeared.

Not because I tackled it all at once—but because small, consistent steps quietly did their work. Before long, the pile wasn’t an issue anymore.

That experience taught me something important:
small steps don’t just create progress—they create momentum.

Now, I use the Rule of 5 in other areas of my home.

Recently, I opened a bathroom drawer that had slowly become overwhelming. You know the kind—the one you open carefully because you’re not sure what might spill out. Instead of shutting it and walking away, I applied the same rule.

I removed five things.

A couple of items—nice hair ties—went into a box for an upcoming garage sale. The remaining three items were either thrown away or put somewhere else in the bathroom where they made more sense.

That’s it. Five things.

The drawer isn’t perfect yet. But it’s more manageable. And more importantly, I started.

That’s the beauty of the Rule of 5. It lowers the barrier to entry. It doesn’t demand motivation—it creates it. Once you see progress, five can turn into ten. Ten into fifteen. Momentum builds not because you forced it, but because progress feels good. And feeling overwhelmed at home decreases.

Over time, this rule helps:

bring order to small pockets of your home
reduce overwhelm
create a sense of capability and follow-through

And maybe most importantly, it reminds us that progress doesn’t have to be loud or dramatic to be real.

If you’re feeling stuck today—overwhelmed by clutter, tasks, or life in general—consider this your permission to start small.

Five items.
Five minutes.
One small win.

Because small steps, repeated over time, really do add up.

What is quietly asking for your attention—not to be fixed all at once, but to be tended to in small, faithful steps?

The Gift of a Little Inconvenience: Why It’s Time to Review Your Streaming Subscriptions

I recently had a conversation with my 22-year-old stepdaughter and her boyfriend that stopped me in my tracks.

They casually mentioned they had just gotten their own Netflix subscription—the $7.99 per month plan with ads.

Wait… there’s a $7.99 option?

I’ve had Netflix since 2016. Over the years, I’ve watched my monthly bill quietly creep up and up until it landed just shy of $30 per month after taxes. And honestly? I hadn’t questioned it. It was just another automatic charge, another line item I barely noticed.

But here’s the thing—we’re empty nesters now. We don’t need multiple screens or the biggest package anymore. And with the recent crackdown on password sharing, this felt like a natural pause point. A moment to ask: Do we actually need this?

So we downgraded.

The result? About $17 in savings each month. That’s more than $200 a year—not life-changing money, but not nothing either. For more ways to save, check out these suggestions to save $1,000 for your emergency savings fund!

And the ads?

They’re mildly inconvenient, sure. But they’re also… familiar. This is how we used to watch TV. Commercial breaks were normal. Bathroom breaks. Snack refills. Natural stopping points. It wasn’t a big deal.

In fact, I’m starting to think the ads might actually be a gift.

Constant streaming—with no interruptions, no friction, no pause—makes it far too easy to slide into episode after episode without realizing how much time has passed. The ads gently disrupt that rhythm. They remind us to stand up, stretch, check in with ourselves, or even decide we’re done for the night.

It’s made me wonder how many of the “niceties” we’ve grown accustomed to over the past few years are actually helping us—and how many might be quietly numbing us.

Are they a blessing… or a hindrance?
Are they helping us rest… or simply distract?
Are they connecting us to others… or keeping us comfortably isolated?

I’m realizing that convenience isn’t always neutral. Sometimes it makes things too easy. Too smooth. Too effortless to stay disengaged from our own lives.

So yes, we downgraded our Netflix subscription to save money. But more than that, we chose to make it a little less comfortable—to add back in some natural limits and interruptions.

And here’s your gentle reminder: take a look at your subscriptions. Cancel what you don’t use. Scale back—even if it feels a little uncomfortable. Especially if it does.

Because discomfort isn’t always a sign that something is wrong. Sometimes it’s an invitation to grow, to notice, to reclaim both time and money that have been slipping away unnoticed.

In the end, the savings add up—in dollars and in attention. And both are worth stewarding well.

I recently had a conversation with my 22-year-old stepdaughter and her boyfriend that stopped me in my tracks.

They casually mentioned they had just gotten their own Netflix subscription—the $7.99 per month plan with ads.

Wait… there’s a $7.99 option?

So we downgraded.

The result? About $17 in savings each month. That’s more than $200 a year—not life-changing money, but not nothing either.