Our Sons and Daughters
As we sang Pass the Promise in church a few weeks ago, one line caught me in a new way: “our sons and daughters.”
I found myself thinking: what if that means all of our sons and daughters? Not just our own children, but every child in our church family. The kids sitting a few pews over, the ones running around at the back during the service. They belong to all of us.
Every time we gather for worship, we bear witness to them. Our presence, our singing, praying, listening, and showing up week after week tells them something about what we believe.
I told my daughter recently how grateful I am that she is surrounded by people who have already counted the cost of following Jesus and decided it’s worth it. What a gift that is! To grow up in a community filled with living testimonies of faith.
And that’s really what we’re doing every Sunday, passing the promise. Not through perfect words or elaborate lessons, but through the quiet consistency of a life rooted in worship and wonder.
This is part of what I mean when I talk about contemplative play: paying attention to God’s presence in ordinary things, and letting our lives invite others (especially children) to do the same. Church is one of the few places where kids regularly see adults singing, praying, and wondering together and that is formational, for children and adults.
So every Sunday, when we come to church, we’re not just attending a service. We’re quietly showing our sons and daughters, and one another, that we believe this is true. That we have found Jesus worth following.
They’re watching. And our presence bears witness.
Learning Faith From Children
Photo, taken by my friend Beth, of me showing the kids my favorite part of the liturgical calendar, using a tool from Godly Play
I’ve started talking about children’s ministry a lot. Sometimes I’m writing about contemplative prayer or creative practices for adults, and somehow it comes up again.
And it’s not just because it’s my job, though I do love it and have been doing it for ten years now.
No, it’s actually because children’s ministry reminds me of something central to our faith: the way God calls all of us to approach Him, with openness, curiosity, and trust.
When Jesus said, “Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven,” He wasn’t just talking to kids’ volunteers. He was talking to all of us. It’s a call for all of us to learn humility, wonder, and receptivity to God. It’s a posture of heart that can be cultivated at any age. To enter the kingdom like a child means to stay curious, open, trusting, and willing to play. It means remembering how to approach God with wonder instead of certainty.
In children’s ministry, I watch kids naturally explore, notice, wonder, and create. They don’t need complex explanations about God or prayer; they just engage with the world and the stories of faith with full attention. And as I watch them, I realize that this is the same kind of attentiveness and openness God invites adults into, we just forget how to get there sometimes. It reminds us that part of our calling is to create space: to listen, to wonder, and to let God be present in ordinary moments.
That’s part of why I talk about it so much. Children’s ministry isn’t only about teaching Bible stories or keeping kids busy during worship. It’s spiritual direction in action.
In Godly Play and other similar approaches, we don’t rush to explain or give the “right” answers. We make space, ask wondering questions, and trust that God is already at work. That’s exactly what spiritual direction is for adults too: creating space, listening deeply, and paying attention to how God might be speaking.
When I talk about contemplative play, this is what I mean: making space to engage God through imagination, art, and curiosity. It’s a practice that helps adults reconnect with that childlike posture Jesus talked about. It’s a way for adults to practice openness. It’s about slowing down, engaging your imagination, and noticing God at work around you.
We don’t become like children in a magical or automatic way. Play can be a spiritual discipline, a tool to help us remember how to trust, be curious, and fully show up to God. You don’t have to be “good at art” or have it all figured out. You just have to show up, slow down, and let yourself play a little. It’s another way of listening for God.
That’s why I’ve been talking about children’s ministry so often. It’s not just for kids. It’s a living example of how we can all cultivate a posture of childlike faith: open, attentive, and trusting. Every time we make space for wonder, creativity, and quiet noticing, we’re stepping into the kind of faith Jesus calls us to. Children’s ministry simply reminds us what that looks like in practice.
Creating and Playing as a Christian Practice
As we move from making space into create and play, I’ve been thinking about what this rhythm really means for those of us who follow Jesus. It’s easy to think of creativity as something for artists or people who are “naturally creative,” but the truth is, we all create. It’s part of being made in God’s image.
Here are a few simple ways I think about creativity and play as part of our life with God.
This picture is of a creation made by one of my church kids and I love it. It's a crocheted egg with a tiny Jesus in it. This is also why I talk about children so much: they show us a way. When was the last time you thought, "I'm going to crochet an egg and put a tiny Jesus in it?" Probably not since you were 11, if ever! But look at it. It's joyful and sweet and I love the heart that made this crochet egg and wanted to put a Jesus in it. Let it be your guide to creativity and play today, as you glorify Him in the process.
1. It starts with God’s presence
Before we do anything creative, we start by making space, sitting with God, praying, or just slowing down long enough to be aware that He’s with us. Jesus said, “Abide in me, and I in you” (John 15:4). Creativity flows best when we begin from that place of connection. We don’t create to earn approval; we create because we already have it.
2. Creativity is how we respond to God’s beauty
Creativity isn’t only about art projects. It’s about noticing something beautiful and responding to it. That might look like taking a photo, cooking a meal, singing in the car, arranging flowers, or writing a few lines in your journal. Psalm 19:1 says, “The heavens declare the glory of God.” When we create, in any form, we join that declaration.
3. Play helps us practice noticing
Play is what keeps us from taking ourselves too seriously. It’s how we learn to notice and enjoy what God is doing around us. When we play, when we experiment, explore, or make something just because, it helps us grow more open and curious. That kind of curiosity helps us see God’s hand in ordinary things.
That’s why I share creative prompts, photo prompts, and prayer ideas each month. They’re not about producing something impressive; they’re about giving yourself permission to notice and enjoy God’s goodness.
4. Everything we create can glorify God
In Colossians 3:17, Paul writes, “Whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus.” That means anything—writing, gardening, organizing your home, or helping your kids with a project—can be an act of worship when it’s done with love and gratitude.
Creating and playing aren’t separate from your faith. They’re ways to live it out, right in the middle of everyday life.
So as we move into this new rhythm, here’s something to think about:
What would it look like for you to create or play with God this week?
An Examen for Create and Play
I like to think of the Examen as a way to help us just live with intentionality. It’s easy to let the days slip by without any reflection, one day just flowing into the next. But if we want the moments to last, we need to live with intentionality. This is where the Examen helps us. The Examen (from Ignatian spirituality) is a gentle, prayerful reflection on your day, noticing where you experienced God’s presence, gratitude, and invitation to growth. So I thought it might be helpful to have an Examen specifically for our create and play rhythm.
1. Become Still
Take a few breaths.
Invite God’s presence with you.
Maybe pray:
“Creator God, You delight in making all things new. Help me see where I joined You in creation today.”
2. Give Thanks
Reflect on moments of creative joy or play.
What felt life-giving, even in small ways?
When did you feel free, curious, or childlike?
What moment of beauty or imagination felt like a gift?
3. Review the Day (or Week)
Look back through your creative moments:
What did you make, explore, or notice?
Were there times you resisted play or held back?
When did you sense flow, connection, or surprise?
When did you feel blocked, pressured, or disconnected?
Try to see these moments as invitations — not successes or failures.
4. Notice God’s Presence
Where might God have been in your creative process?
Was there a moment you sensed delight, peace, or invitation?
What felt sacred, even if it was messy?
5. Respond and Rest
What invitation do you sense for tomorrow or next week?
How might God be inviting you to create or play with Him again?
End with rest, maybe just sitting quietly, or with a simple prayer like:
“Thank You, Creator, for the gift of creativity and play. Help me to create with You again.”
Optional Prompts (for journaling or reflecting with friends)
You can rotate a few of these each week:
What surprised me in my creativity today?
What felt playful or freeing?
What made me tense or afraid to try?
Where did I notice beauty?
What do I want to bring into my next creative moment?
Making Space: Autumn Noticing
Our Making Space rhythm is about glorifying God with our time. It’s a practice of slowing down, clearing room in our days, and choosing presence over hurry. When we make space, we’re saying with our actions that God’s world and God’s presence are worth our attention, and more important than anything else.
For me, sometimes that just means taking time to notice. Efforts to be present in my everyday life, to eliminate distraction, to pay attention… these are small but meaningful ways to honor God with the moments He’s given me.
As a Christian, I believe this is part of my calling: to lift up my head and see life for what it truly is. When I look through the lenses of beauty, freedom, and abundance, I start to recognize God’s hand everywhere. Noticing becomes not just an art form, but a spiritual discipline, a way to worship. (And really, I think creating any kind of art can be a form of worship too.)
This fall, I want to make space to notice:
the colors of the trees
the sound of leaves underfoot
the smell and taste of fall spices
the feel of soft blankets and cozy layers
Maybe that’s why I love this season so much, it’s hard not to notice.
Will you join me in making space to notice this season?
Let’s glorify God with our time by slowing down, paying attention, and living fully in the present.
What will you choose to notice as the days turn golden and cool?
Known, Seen, and Loved: An Examen
As I was thinking about the call to see, know, and love the children in the church, I realized these are calls and desires in everyone’s life, so I thought we could use a little examen that helps us see that we are seen, known, and loved, as well as see the call to see, know, and love others.
1. Presence
Take a deep breath. Ask God to help you see yourself and others with His eyes—eyes of love.
2. Gratitude
When today did I feel truly seen, known, and understood?
Who reflected God’s love to me today in a way that felt unconditional?
3. Reflection
When did I make space for someone else to feel seen and heard?
How did I show love to someone without expecting anything in return?
Did I miss an opportunity to notice or care for someone who needed it?
4. Stretching Love
How have I responded to people who are difficult for me to love?
What is one small way I can practice loving even my enemies, as Christ calls me to?
5. Invitation
Where do I sense God inviting me to grow in seeing, knowing, and loving tomorrow?
What grace do I want to ask for as I end this day?
sacred story time (write a poem)
Last time, Pooh began his plan to get the honey from the bees, but there was a problem. This week, Christopher Robin steps in to help!
As we read this week’s passage, I hope you’ll take some time to wonder about the friendships in your life, how they bring joy and laughter, how they can disappoint. Come play, pray, and wonder with me.
"Oh, there you are!" called down Winnie-the-Pooh, as soon as Christopher Robin got back to the tree. "I was beginning to get anxious. I have discovered that the bees are now definitely Suspicious."
"Shall I put my umbrella up?" Christopher Robin said.
"Yes, but wait a moment. We must be practical. The important bee to deceive is the Queen Bee. Can you see which is the Queen Bee from down there?"
"No."
"A pity. Well, now, if you walk up and down with your umbrella, saying, 'Tut-tut, it looks like rain,' I shall do what I can by singing a little Cloud Song, such as a cloud might sing.... Go!"
So, while Christopher Robin walked up and down and wondered if it would rain, Winnie-the-Pooh sang this song:
How sweet to be a Cloud
Floating in the Blue!
Every little cloud
Always sings aloud.
"How sweet to be a Cloud
Floating in the Blue!"
It makes him very proud
To be a little cloud.
The bees were still buzzing as suspiciously as ever. Some of them, indeed, left their nests and flew all round the cloud as it began the second verse of this song, and one bee sat down on the nose of the cloud for a moment, and then got up again.
Noticing Prompt
Have you ever been disappointed by someone? How did it feel? How were you able to move on? Did the relationship continue? What would it look like to offer forgiveness?
Play Prompt
Make a list of words that rhyme with “bee” and then try to make a silly poem out of them. Maybe even include some made up words! If you do, what do you think those words mean? Why are words so important? How do they make you laugh or cry?
If you are with children, try saying the silly poem while you march in a circle or outside. How do you feel while doing this? How do the kids feel? What emotion are they expressing?
Imagination Prompt
If a friend asked you to do something silly that would embarrass you, would you do it? What factors would influence your decision? How would you feel about it when you make up your mind?
Prayer
Triune God, thank you for creating us for community. Bless our friendships and give us wisdom when they are hard. Help us to respect others as image-bearers, as well as ourselves. Show us what healthy and good community looks like.
Download a PDF of this content for a Winnie-the-Pooh coloring page!
Seen, Known, and Loved: The Calling of Children’s Ministry is Every Adult’s Calling
Whenever I think about children’s ministry, I return again and again to three simple words: seen, known, and loved.
Those three words sum up my deepest hopes for the kids in our church. I want every child to feel truly seen, genuinely known, and deeply loved by the church.
I say the church very intentionally. Of course, I mean Jesus, but the church is the body of Christ. When children feel seen, known, and loved by the church, they are experiencing the love of Jesus in real, tangible ways. And this language matters, because it’s not only about how children feel, it’s a calling for the adults of the church. We are invited (and entrusted) to be the ones who see, know, and love the children in our midst.
Think about what that means. To see a child is to notice them, not just as part of a group, but as an individual with their own gifts, needs, and personality. To know a child is to listen, to remember, to value their voice. And to love a child is to offer warmth, care, patience, and delight in who they are.
When we as adults do this faithfully in a safe environment, we create a foundation of belonging and rest. That foundation matters deeply, because as children grow, they will begin to wrestle with questions of faith. And questioning is not something to fear; it’s healthy, good, and necessary. If children have been rooted in an early experience of being seen, known, and loved, they will feel safe to ask those questions. They will know the church is a place that can hold their doubts and their wonderings, not just their certainties.
This is why “seen, known, and loved” is not just my goal for children’s ministry, it’s a vision for the whole church. Every program, every story, every interaction, every small gesture of care is an opportunity for the body of Christ to live out this calling.
Because when children grow up feeling seen, known, and loved by the church, they are also growing up feeling seen, known, and loved by Jesus. And that is a gift they will carry with them for the rest of their lives.
Ugly Art, Again! From Striving to Receiving
Let’s talk about ugly art again and why it can be an important spiritual practice. By “ugly art,” I mean creating without pressure, control, or concern for polish, art that may never be impressive but is honest, messy, and real.
As Christians, loosening our grip on control and perfection isn’t just emotionally healthy, it’s spiritually essential. Why? Because the Christian life is rooted in grace, not achievement. The gospel tells us we are loved, chosen, and redeemed not because we’ve earned it, but because God is good and merciful. Yet so often, we fall back into striving, trying to prove our worth, manage outcomes, or “get it right” for God.
This is my coloring book and a page I colored. The question on the opposite page feels appropriate: What is God inviting you to notice today?
Control and perfection give us the illusion of safety, but they often keep us from intimacy with God. When we grip too tightly, we block ourselves from receiving. And the life of faith is meant to be received, not controlled.
Jesus invites us to come to Him like children: open-handed, dependent, delighted. He doesn’t say, “Come when you have it all together.” He says, “Come to me, all who are weary and burdened.” The spiritual life is not a ladder to climb but a gift to receive. It is not about mastering holiness, but abiding in Love.
When we shift from striving to receiving, we begin to live from a place of trust. We start to believe that God is not measuring our performance but longing for our presence. We stop managing our relationship with God and start enjoying it. And that’s where intimacy grows, not in perfection, but in presence.
This is why practicing ugly art matters. It trains us to let go, to resist the need to perfect or prove, and to simply be with God. In Scripture, God consistently shows up in quiet, ordinary places, in the whisper, not the whirlwind (1 Kings 19), in the stillness of the garden, in Jesus simply being with people.
When we slow down enough to be present, we create space to actually receive God’s love, rather than trying to earn it or perform for it. And being present reminds us: we are not just workers in God’s Kingdom, we are His beloved.
If making “ugly art” feels uncomfortable, you don’t have to do it alone. In spiritual direction, I love using art practices as a way to let go of expectations and discover God’s presence in simple, freeing, and even playful ways.
Responding to God’s Beauty: Create + Play
It’s time to move from making space into create and play. This is the rhythm we follow here. First, we pause, making space to sit with God, to reflect, to pray, to simply be in His presence. Then, from that stillness, we step into creating and playing.
So often, people think “create” must mean something artistic: painting, coloring, crafting. But creating is so much more than that! I like to think of it as a response, letting ourselves be moved by God’s beauty and then answering with action. It could be snapping a picture, chopping vegetables, lifting your voice in song, journaling, or dancing.
Sometimes this kind of creating flows naturally. Other times, we need to be intentional, and that’s where play comes in. Play loosens us, opens us, helps us practice noticing beauty. That’s why I share photo prompts, creative prompts, and prayer prompts—little invitations that are both playful and reflective.
Sometimes we are stirred by God’s beauty to create. Other times, we create as a way to train our eyes to notice His beauty more clearly.
So how do you want to play this week?
Making Space: Wordless Prayer
I’ve been taking a little longer with making space this month. September has felt like the right time to pause hereand notice what needs to be cleared away and what needs to be held close. Maybe it’s just me, but there’s something about the changing season that makes me want to breathe deeper and make room for God in new ways.
So here’s a simple practice to try:
Sit quietly for a minute with your hands open in front of you, palms up.
In one hand, imagine placing everything hard, sad, or scary that you’re carrying. Picture loading that hand up with anything heavy on your heart.
In the other hand, imagine holding everything you love—anything beautiful, fun, silly, or sacred that brings joy.
Then slowly lift your hands up, offering them to God.
You don’t even need words. The gesture itself becomes a prayer, an embodied way of saying: “I can’t hold all of this on my own. Please carry it for me.” and “Thank You for all this beauty and for being a God who gives good gifts.”
Sometimes, making space means letting go of so many words and simply being with God in a quieter way.
Try It with Kids
This hand-prayer works beautifully with children, too. You can guide them like this:
Hold out both hands in front of you, palms up.
In one hand, pretend to put anything that makes you feel sad, worried, or scared. You can “drop” it in your hand like a stone.
In the other hand, pretend to put things you love: something beautiful, fun, or silly that makes you happy. You can “pick up” these good things and place them in your hand like treasures.
After a moment, lift up both hands together. Tell God, “Here are the hard things. Please hold them for me. Here are the good things. Thank You for giving them to me.”
If children don’t want to use words, that’s okay. The simple action of lifting their hands is a prayer all by itself.
Learning to See Through God’s Eyes
Several years ago, I chose three words to shape the way I wanted to see the world: beauty, freedom, and abundance. They’re still words I come back to often. I don’t always live them out perfectly, but they continue to be a guide for me, a way of framing how I want to look at my life, my relationships, and the world around me.
The truth is, I don’t always see through that frame naturally. Most days I need the reminder to slow down, make space, and ask God to help me see differently. Left to myself, I get distracted, or I focus on what feels heavy or frustrating. But when I pause and pray, even a simple, quiet “Lord, help me see what You see”, it opens my eyes to what’s already there.
Scripture reminds us that God is the source of all three:
“One thing I ask from the Lord… to gaze on the beauty of the Lord and to seek him in his temple.” (Psalm 27:4)
“It is for freedom that Christ has set us free.” (Galatians 5:1)
“I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.” (John 10:10)
Making space for this kind of noticing doesn’t have to be complicated. It can be as simple as:
Looking out the window for a few minutes and asking, Where is the beauty here?
Taking a walk and asking, What freedom is God inviting me into today?
Sitting at the table and asking, What abundance am I overlooking today?
A Making Space Practice
This week, take five minutes each day to pause and ask God to show you beauty, freedom, and abundance in an ordinary place. Write down what you notice, or share it with someone else. Over time, these small moments of noticing can gently shift the way we see our lives and help us point others toward the goodness of God at work all around us.
An examen for the end of summer
The examen is a simple way of prayerful reflection—remembering, noticing, and receiving God’s grace in the ordinary. As summer comes to a close, take time to pause and look back over these months with God.
Remember
What moments from this summer stand out most vividly to me?
Where did I feel most alive, most myself?
Where did I feel God’s nearness?
Give Thanks
What gifts did summer hold for me, big or small?
Who am I especially grateful for this season?
How did play, rest, or joy find me?
Notice
Where did I feel weary, restless, or distracted?
Where did I sense God’s absence—or my own distance from God?
What have these moments taught me about myself?
Look Forward
What do I want to carry with me from summer into fall?
What might God be inviting me to let go of?
What blessing, prayer, or grace do I need for this next season?
Close
Rest for a moment in God’s love. Imagine God’s blessing resting on you as you step forward into what comes next.
When Rest Feels Hard
Lately, rest has been feeling harder than I think it should. I sit down to nap, to read, or even to pray, and instead of stillness I feel anxious, fidgety, or distracted. Escapism often comes easier—TV, scrolling on my phone—but that doesn’t leave me feeling truly refreshed.
What I’ve been noticing, though, is that play can be a pathway into rest, one that feels more accessible. I used to think of rest and play as opposites. But really, play is a kind of rest. There are so many ways to rest, and when the traditional ones (the ones that require keeping my body still) don’t work, play is often an easier way to enter. When I paint, color, doodle, or take a slow walk outside, my body and mind relax in ways they don’t when I try to force myself into “being still.”
And here’s something important: the kind of rest that truly quiets our bodies takes practice. It doesn’t always come naturally. Some seasons of life make it harder than others. That doesn’t mean we’re failing at rest, it just means we might need gentler doorways in.
Not every kind of play is equally restful. Some is active or noisy, which is good and refreshing in its own way! But other kinds of play are gentler. I call this contemplative play: the kind of play that refreshes the body, softens the heart, and brings the mind into a quieter rhythm.
Here are some of my favorite ways to practice contemplative play:
Watercoloring
Journaling (especially in my coloring journal)
Digital art (lately I’ve been playing with the idea of making stickers)
Swinging in the hammock
Sitting in the grass with the dogs and letting them tumble around me
Playing fetch with the dogs
Listening to audiobooks (often while doing one of the above)
After these kinds of play, I try to pause and notice what I’m feeling. Often the first feeling that surfaces isn’t the truest one. (Once I sit with it for a few minutes, I usually realize I’m just sad about a lot of things.) Then I gather up all those feelings and lift them to God with a simple prayer: “God, I don’t know what to do with all of this. Will you hold it for me?”
This month, I’m remembering that rest isn’t only stillness. Sometimes the most restful thing is to follow the thread of play until I arrive at the calm I was seeking all along.
Practice Invitation
Think about the kinds of play that feel restful for you. Try one this week, like coloring, baking, daydreaming, humming, swinging in a hammock. As you do, notice how your body and spirit shift. Then, take a moment to name what you’re feeling and lift it up to the Lord.
The Hidden, Blessed, and Sacred Work of Children’s Ministry
Yesterday I had to lead a meeting with our Sunday school volunteers and honestly, I wasn’t really feeling it going in. As the date of the meeting crept closer, I noticed a little bitterness rising inside about children’s ministry, which is very unusual for me! I knew God would meet me in the meeting and in my words, but I wanted to be able to stand in front of our volunteers and speak authentically about how much I love them and love this ministry. So, I reached out to a few close friends and asked them to pray.
And of course, God showed up. As I sang during worship, listened to the sermon, and came forward for communion, my heart shifted. I felt His joy rising in me again, even while I carried my sadness, fear, anxiety, even my bitterness to Him. By the time I stood before our volunteers, I was able to share from a place of honesty about the work, the struggle, and the beauty of what we do together.
Here are some of the things I tried to put into words:
Children’s ministry is hidden.
A friend of mine gave me this word recently about this ministry, and it stuck with me. Children’s ministry doesn’t usually get the spotlight. We’re not up front, we’re not getting applause. In fact, most of the time it feels pretty thankless.
Part of my job is to make sure our volunteers feel seen and valued, but I also reminded them that there’s something holy about the hiddenness itself. In God’s upside-down kingdom, the hidden jobs are the important ones. When the kids aren’t listening, when you’re tired and sweaty, when no one says “thank you” — God sees. And He delights in you.
Children’s ministry is a blessing to us.
We also read together from Matthew 19:14: “Let the little children come to me…”
The truth is, we don’t just serve the kids, we also receive from them. Their honesty, their joy, their questions, even their struggles — they all bless us. Week after week, these little ones show us what humility, trust, and openness to God look like.
Children’s ministry isn’t just about helping kids grow in their faith; it’s about us growing, too. We get to see, right in front of us, the kind of childlike faith Jesus said was the model for His kingdom. Serving in this way is not just a responsibility, it’s a blessing.
Children’s ministry is sacred.
One of the holiest truths about this work is that we are not only telling kids about Jesus, but we are also we are creating spaces where they can encounter Him for themselves. That happens through relationships, through the way we listen, through play, through stories, and through the wonder we make space for. And once you truly encounter Jesus, you are never the same.
When a child feels loved and seen by us, they are experiencing the love and welcome of Jesus. When we invite them to wonder about God’s story, they are encountering His presence in real and lasting ways. This is sacred work, holy ground where God meets His children through the simple faithfulness of His people.
Children’s ministry may not always feel glamorous, but it is holy. It’s hidden, yes, but hidden in the way seeds are hidden before they grow. It’s a blessing to us, because we are shaped by the very ones Jesus told us to learn from. And it’s sacred, because here children encounter the love of Jesus through us, and we encounter Him through them.
So if you ever find yourself tired or discouraged in this work (like I did this week), remember: God sees you. And through you, Jesus is making Himself known.
Sacred Story time: Behind the Scenes
Creating the Sacred Storytime prompts is one of my very favorite parts of what I’ve been doing. They do take a lot of time, though, so last month I shared in my Instagram stories a bit about the process and the heart behind them. In case you missed it, here’s a look at how they come together and why I love making them.
First, I pull the next section of text from Project Gutenberg, a free e-book site that houses many beloved classics in the public domain. Right now, we’re making our way through Winnie-the-Pooh (for reasons I’ll share another time!). I read through the passage carefully and then create three prompts and a prayer to go along with it.
The first prompt is what I call the Noticing Prompt. This is at the heart of what I mean when I talk about using children’s stories for contemplative play. It’s the simple act of reading a sweet story and letting it stir something inside us. The prompts are there to guide you, but honestly, you can do this without them too! My hope is that as you read (or listen, through the Instagram reels), you’ll pause to notice what’s happening in your heart. Afterward, take a moment to offer that noticing to God in prayer. That prayer piece is essential; it shifts our focus from ourselves back to Him. I usually provide a simple prayer you can use, or you’re always welcome to pray your own.
The second and third prompts are a bit more playful. These are things you can do on your own, with a friend, or with a child—something lighthearted, creative, and intentional. Even when they seem silly, they often spark meaningful reflection too.
And then comes the prayer, which may look like an afterthought, but really it’s the center of the whole practice. Reflection is valuable, but the goal isn’t just self-awareness. It’s connection with God. The prayer is our chance to lift up our hearts, remember who He is, and invite His help and presence into what we’ve noticed.
Once the prompts and prayer are finished, I choose an image from the original book to turn into a coloring page (always available as a free PDF in the blog post). Then, I paint a watercolor version of the same page. That watercolor becomes the backdrop for the Instagram reel. I bring it into Canva to add text, then into LumaFusion where I record the voiceover. My goal is always for the reels to feel like you’re being read to as a child—gentle, cozy, and full of wonder.
It’s a fair amount of work, but I truly love it. And I’m dreaming bigger: eventually, I’d love to gather a whole story, with prompts, prayers, and coloring pages, into a printed booklet you can hold in your hands. Something you could take with you, write in, color in, and share with a child or a friend.
Thank you so much for being part of this journey with me. It means the world.
Sacred Playtime
Each month in our rhythm, we move from Make Space into Create + Play.
Make Space is about clearing the noise and slowing our pace so we can be present to God. Create + Play takes that presence and gives it room to stretch and move through our hands, imaginations, and senses.
This isn’t “creative time” in the usual sense, it’s not about producing something beautiful or impressive. It’s about entering into contemplative play: a way of being with God that engages curiosity, creativity, and presence. It’s a posture of wonder that says, “I am here, God, and I am listening,” even when our hands are busy and our minds are open.
It might look like coloring slowly, not to fill the page but to be present to your breath. It might look like walking through your neighborhood and wondering about the stories behind the trees or houses as a prayer. It might look like arranging scraps of paper or string on your table, not for a finished piece, but to explore what your hands are drawn to today.
Contemplative play helps us loosen our grip on control and perfection. It shifts our posture from striving to receiving. In this playful, spacious presence, we become like children again, which is exactly how Jesus invites us to approach the Kingdom.
It helps us grow in intimacy with God because it slows us down enough to notice God noticing us. It makes room to hear God’s voice not just in Scripture or prayer, but in color, movement, silence, texture, and breath. It helps us be with God, not just talk about God.
If you find yourself longing for more of this gentle, spacious presence, I’d love to walk alongside you. In spiritual direction, we make room together to notice God’s invitations, pay attention to your unique story, and explore how God might be speaking through your creativity, questions, and play.
Lift Up Your Head: Noticing as a Spiritual Practice
Every month, we begin by making space and I try to offer some prompts to help us do just that. Last month, many of those prompts invited us to notice. But why is it important to make space? And why bother noticing, especially when what we’re noticing seems so small or even silly?
Making space, slowing down, noticing—it’s all about giving God room to move in our lives. Remember Elijah hearing God in the whisper? (I Kings 19:11-13) The thunder and storms that came before were loud, powerful, dramatic. But God wasn’t in them. It was the stillness where he could finally hear. The same is true for us. The thunder and storms are the busyness of our lives. Slowing down helps us hear the whisper.*
Often, I pray for “eyes to see” what’s really there, but that kind of seeing takes intention. It takes slowing down. It takes a shift in perspective.
Three years ago, I wrote a blog post about this very thing: about how I was trying to move away from just pushing through the hard moments in my day. Because I really don’t believe that’s what God wants for us. Every moment is a gift, and I don’t want to squander them by merely surviving.
With the help of my spiritual director, I came up with a breath prayer for those moments:
Inhale: Lord, lift up my head
Exhale: To see your beauty
This, my friends, is an act of surrender. It’s saying: “I have nothing, but you give me everything. Help me see it.” And in that surrender, I have been surprised by the freedom I’ve found. I've begun to see more of the beauty around me, more of the abundant life He promises.
Taking that breath often requires a literal shift in posture: I have to lift up my head. But it’s also a metaphorical shift. I am choosing to change how I approach the moment. I am asking for eyes to see, even in the middle of the mess.
That’s what I’m inviting you into. Doing things that feel purposeless (making “ugly” art, noticing silly things) isn’t wasted time. It’s sacred time. It’s a way of slowing down, of receiving.
And somehow, taking time when it feels like there isn’t any actually multiplies time. This is God’s economy at work. This is abundance.
*And this is what spiritual direction is for! If this practice feels hard or foreign to you, I encourage you to give spiritual direction a try.