Nice to meet you!

I know the garden is inviting. The mailbox is open, and the letters are scattered on the table — so come sit with me.

I see you’re picking up a letter.

These letters? They’re for my ladybugs. My kids.

This is Gee, my little girl, and Em, my little boy. I know they look a little funny in this picture, but I promise you—they’re the sweetest mix of kissing and quarreling siblings.

I call them my ladybugs because they’ve become little helpers in my spiritual garden.

They fly from flower to flower—pollinating what’s good, stirring growth, and yes, even eating the aphids.

In real life, they’ve shown me the beauty of motherhood: ordinary days that still bloom with color. They also stretch me—testing my patience and every fruit of the Holy Spirit. I fail often. But when fruit finally grows in me, it’s so sweet.

They keep me grounded. They make me look back at my life and let God prune what doesn’t belong—old habits, old beliefs, the “pests” I tolerated for too long that quietly ate away at my joy with Jesus.

And the lessons God gives me through them are too good to waste.

So I started collecting these letters—so my kids can one day look back and remember: God was real. God was present. God was kind, even in the ordinary.

Because the world will try to distract them, and it will try to tell them God isn’t real. But I want a record that says otherwise.

Days may feel simple, and they might not remember most of them. But grace showed up anyway. A miracle or two happened anyway. And I promised myself—and my Heavenly Father—that I won’t waste those moments anymore.

If I’ve been given the gift to write, and the chance to preserve what matters, I have no excuse.

So I’m collecting these letters. For them.

And God is making me collect them—not only for my ladybugs…

But for you, too.

With love,