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Choosing Peace Over Productivity: Finding Rest and Purpose in Midlife

Posted on July 10, 2026July 7, 2026 by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

There comes a point in life when you begin to notice a shift you can no longer ignore.

You don’t simply get older.

You get clearer.

Clearer about what matters. Clearer about what drains you. Clearer about what you no longer want to carry just because you have carried it for years.

For me, this season of life has brought me to one simple realization: I don’t want to spend the rest of my life chasing productivity. I want to learn how to live with peace.

Not because I no longer have responsibilities. Not because life suddenly became easy. But because I have finally realized that a busy life and a meaningful life are not always the same thing.

When Productivity Became My Identity

For most of my life, I measured myself by what I accomplished.

I worked full time. I raised my daughters. I managed a home. I solved problems before they became bigger problems. I stayed busy because life required me to keep moving.

But somewhere along the way, productivity became more than something I did. It became how I saw myself.

If I wasn’t accomplishing something, I felt behind.

If I slowed down, I felt guilty.

If I rested, I wondered what I should be doing instead.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but I had connected my value to my ability to produce.

And after years of living that way, I began to understand something important.

God never created me to prove my worth through my accomplishments.

The Midlife Season That Changed My Perspective

Now I find myself in a different season of life.

My daughters are grown and building lives of their own. One is a wife and mother experiencing her own journey of raising a family. The other has created a life filled with work, friendships, and the things she enjoys.

And I find myself standing in a place I once only imagined.

I am watching the next generation begin while learning how to step back from the constant urgency that once filled my days.

At first, that transition felt strange.

When you spend years being needed, slowing down can feel uncomfortable. You start wondering who you are when you aren’t constantly fixing, helping, or accomplishing.

But somewhere along the way, something changed.

I realized I didn’t want to spend my days rushing from one thing to the next.

I wanted to enjoy the life God has given me.

I wanted to notice the little moments.

I wanted peace.

Choosing Peace on Purpose

Peace does not happen accidentally in midlife.

Not in a world that celebrates busyness. Not in a culture that often measures our worth by what we accomplish. Not after years of believing that doing more means being more valuable.

Peace is something I have to choose.

Some days that means sitting outside a little longer and enjoying the quiet. Some days it means leaving things unfinished and trusting they will still be there tomorrow. Sometimes it means saying no without feeling like I need to explain myself.

And sometimes it simply means closing my laptop, turning off the noise, and reminding myself that I am not behind in life.

I am exactly where God has placed me.

Jesus speaks directly into this kind of weariness in Matthew 11:28:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”

I love that Jesus doesn’t tell us to come after we have finished everything.

He invites us to come while we are tired.

He offers rest before we have earned it.

And the older I get, the more I understand that rest is not something I have to deserve. It is a gift God wants me to receive.

Learning to See Peace Differently

For years, I thought peace would come when my schedule was empty and everything was finished.

But I have learned that peace is not found in having nothing to do.

Peace comes from having a heart that trusts God.

I can still work. I can still care for the people I love. I can still pursue the dreams God has placed in my heart. But I no longer want those things to come at the expense of my peace.

Isaiah 26:3 reminds me:

“You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you.”

Peace grows when trust replaces striving.

And after spending so many years striving, learning to trust feels like freedom.

Letting Go of the Need to Be Enough

One of the greatest gifts of this season has been learning to release the pressure of always needing to do enough.

Enough work.

Enough effort.

Enough responsibility.

Enough proof that I was doing well.

The problem with chasing enough is that enough always moves.

No matter what you accomplish, there is always something else waiting.

But my worth was never meant to be measured by my productivity.

It has always been rooted in who I am in Christ.

Ephesians 2:10 reminds us that we are “God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works.”

We are created for purpose.

But we are not created to be consumed by our purpose.

There is a difference between living with purpose and living under pressure.

Finding a New Rhythm After 50

As I move through my fifties and look toward my sixties, I feel God inviting me into a different rhythm.

Not a smaller life.

A more intentional one.

I don’t want to rush through my mornings anymore. I don’t want to fill every quiet moment just because silence feels unfamiliar. I don’t want to measure the value of my day by how many things I crossed off a list.

I want to notice my life while I am living it.

The sound of birds outside my window.

The comfort of a quiet home.

The conversations with my daughters.

The moments I get to share with my granddaughter.

The simple blessings that I once moved past too quickly.

Psalm 46:10 says:

“Be still, and know that I am God.”

There was a time when stillness felt unproductive.

Now it feels like awareness.

It gives me space to notice God’s presence and appreciate the season I am in.

Peace Is Becoming My Measure of a Good Life

For years, I ended my days asking myself, “Did I do enough?”

Now I ask different questions.

Was I present today?

Did I notice God working?

Did I live with peace or pressure?

Those questions have changed everything.

Because productivity can fill a calendar, but peace fills a soul.

I no longer want a life that only looks full from the outside.

I want a life that feels full on the inside.

A life filled with faith.

A life filled with purpose.

A life filled with moments I slow down enough to enjoy.

Choosing Peace Is Part of Growing

I used to think slowing down meant I was falling behind.

Now I see it differently.

Choosing peace does not mean giving up.

It means growing.

It means releasing the pressure to prove myself and embracing the freedom to simply be who God created me to be.

The life I spent so many years chasing was not somewhere far away.

It was unfolding in front of me all along.

I just needed to slow down long enough to see it.

Let’s Keep the Conversation Going

Have you found yourself slowing down in this season of life? Are you learning that peace is more valuable than constantly staying busy?

I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments. Your story may be exactly what another woman needs to hear today.

If this encouraged you, share it with a friend who needs the reminder that her worth is not measured by her productivity.

And if you are walking through midlife alongside me, I invite you to come back for more conversations about faith, purpose, and finding joy in the season God has given us.

Walking Through the Bible

Walking Through the Bible: Leviticus

Posted on July 8, 2026July 7, 2026 by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

If I am being completely honest, Leviticus has always been one of those books that felt intimidating. It is filled with laws, sacrifices, ceremonies, and instructions that can make you wonder if you’ll ever make it through. More than once I found myself asking, “Lord, what am I supposed to learn from all of this?”

But the more I read, the more I realized Leviticus is so much more than a list of rules. Underneath every instruction is the heart of God. This book isn’t simply about laws. It is about a holy God who longs to live among His people.

One phrase appears over and over again throughout the book: “I am the Lord your God.” Every time I read those words, I was reminded that these commands were never random. God continually pointed His people back to who He is. His authority, His holiness, His faithfulness, and His love formed the foundation for everything He asked of them.

Here are some of the biggest lessons I took away from reading Leviticus.

1. God is holy beyond anything I can fully understand.

This is probably the strongest message throughout the entire book.

God’s holiness isn’t just one of His characteristics. It is His very nature. Everything about Him is pure, righteous, perfect, and completely set apart.

As I read about the sacrifices, the priests, the tabernacle, and the detailed instructions, I realized they all pointed to one truth. Sin cannot casually enter God’s presence. His holiness demands perfection.

That could feel discouraging if the story ended there. Thankfully, it doesn’t. Every sacrifice in Leviticus reminds me how desperately humanity needed a Savior. Reading this book made me appreciate Jesus even more because He became the perfect sacrifice once and for all.

2. God wants to dwell with His people.

One of the things that surprised me most was how often I saw God’s desire to be close to His people.

Yes, there were boundaries.

Yes, there were laws.

Yes, there were consequences for sin.

But all of those instructions served a purpose. God wanted Israel to remain clean so His presence could remain with them.

The heart behind the laws was never distance. It was relationship.

Today, because of Jesus, God doesn’t dwell in a tabernacle. His Holy Spirit lives within every believer. That truth makes me appreciate the incredible privilege we have today.

3. Obedience matters even when I don’t understand everything.

There were many moments while reading Leviticus when I wondered why certain laws existed. Some made perfect sense while others left me scratching my head.

I realized something important.

God never asked His people to fully understand every command before obeying it.

He simply asked them to trust Him.

That challenged me because I often want explanations before obedience. God reminds me that trust sometimes comes before understanding.

Even today, there are things in Scripture I don’t fully understand, but I can still trust the One who gave them.

4. Sin is far more serious than I sometimes realize.

Leviticus doesn’t minimize sin.

It doesn’t excuse it.

It doesn’t pretend it isn’t a problem.

Instead, it constantly shows the cost of sin through sacrifices, offerings, cleansing, and repentance.

Reading these chapters reminded me that sin separates us from God. It affects our relationship with Him and with others.

At the same time, I also saw God’s incredible mercy. He always made a way for His people to be restored. Long before Jesus came, God was already showing His desire to forgive those who came to Him with repentant hearts.

5. God cares about every part of life.

I expected Leviticus to focus mostly on worship, but I was surprised by how much it covered everyday living.

God gave instructions about family life, work, health, celebrations, justice, caring for the poor, honesty, generosity, and relationships.

Nothing was outside His concern.

That reminded me that following God is not something I do only on Sunday mornings. My faith should shape the way I speak, work, treat others, spend money, forgive people, and live every ordinary day.

God is interested in every part of my life because every part belongs to Him.

6. God’s repeated reminder changed the way I read the book.

“I am the Lord your God.”

By the time I reached the end of Leviticus, those words had become incredibly meaningful.

God wasn’t repeating Himself because Israel had poor memories. He was reminding them that every command flowed from His character.

He is the Lord.

He is holy.

He is faithful.

He is worthy of trust.

He is their God.

Those same truths still apply today.

Whenever I struggle to understand God’s ways, I can remember who He is before I focus on what He asks of me.

Final Thoughts

Leviticus may never become everyone’s favorite book of the Bible, but I don’t think I’ll ever read it the same way again.

Instead of seeing page after page of laws, I now see the heart of a holy God who wanted His people to reflect His character and enjoy His presence.

The sacrifices point to Jesus.

The holiness points to God’s perfection.

The repeated phrase, “I am the Lord your God,” reminds me that my faith begins with knowing who God is.

Leviticus challenged me to take God’s holiness seriously while also celebrating the grace I have because of Christ. It reminded me that obedience is an act of trust, that sin has a cost, and that God desires a relationship with His people more than anything.

That is a lesson worth carrying into every book that follows.

Family & Legacy

When Your Daughter Becomes a Mother

Posted on July 7, 2026July 7, 2026 by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

There are moments in life that stop you in your tracks – not because they are loud or dramatic, but because they feel deeply sacred in a way you don’t know how to explain out loud.

Watching your daughter become a mother is one of those moments.

It doesn’t just mark a new chapter in her life. It opens something inside of you that you thought you had already tucked away, healed, or moved past. It brings everything forward at once – memories, emotions, prayers you once whispered in the dark, and versions of yourself you thought you had outgrown.

And suddenly, you realize something you didn’t expect.

You are not just watching your daughter step into motherhood.

You are also meeting your younger self all over again.

A Full-Circle Moment I Never Saw Coming

When I raised my daughters, I didn’t always have time to slow down and take in the weight of what I was doing. Life moved fast. I worked full time. With the help of my mother, I raised my girls, managed life, and kept pushing forward because I had no other choice.

I didn’t pause to think about legacy. I didn’t stop to reflect on cycles or seasons. I just did what needed to be done, day after day, night after night, until exhaustion became normal and survival became routine.

Now I stand in a completely different season.

My daughters have grown into women. They’re building their own lives. And last year, one of the most powerful shifts of all took place; my one daughter became a mother.

When I look at her with her daughter, something inside me shifts in ways I cannot control. I don’t just see my daughter. I see myself at her age. I see the weight she carries, even when she smiles. I see the learning curve. I see the love that stretches deeper than she ever imagined. And I see the quiet strength she didn’t even know she had.

This is what full-circle feels like.

The Younger Version of Me I Thought I Left Behind

Watching my daughter step into motherhood has a way of bringing my younger self into the room without permission.

I remember those years clearly – the tired eyes, the constant motion, the worry that I wasn’t doing enough, the guilt that I wasn’t doing it perfectly, and the quiet prayers I sent up to God while folding laundry at midnight or rocking a baby who wouldn’t sleep.

I didn’t always have words for what I carried, but I carried it anyway.

And now, when I see my daughter in those early stages of motherhood, I don’t just feel pride.

I feel compassion.

I feel understanding.

And if I’m honest, I feel healing.

Because I finally see what I couldn’t see back then: I didn’t need to be perfect. I only needed to be present. I only needed to love my children with what I had, right where I was, in the middle of everything I didn’t know how to balance yet.

Healing Through What I Witness, Not What I Fix

I used to believe healing always required doing something – fixing something, changing something, resolving something. But this season has taught me something very different.

Sometimes healing comes through witnessing.

When I watch my daughter with her baby, I don’t step in and correct my past. I don’t rewrite history. I don’t undo the years I lived in exhaustion and uncertainty.

Instead, I sit with it.

I honor it.

I let God soften the edges of it.

And in that softness, something shifts inside me.

Isaiah 46:4 speaks directly into this kind of moment:

“Even to your old age and gray hairs I am He, I am He who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you.”

I didn’t understand that verse fully when I was younger. I understand it now in a way I wish I could have told my younger self.

God carried me through every sleepless night, every overwhelming day, every moment I questioned whether I was enough.

And now I see the fruit of those years standing right in front of me.

Seeing My Daughter and Seeing Myself at the Same Time

There is something almost holy about watching your child step into a role you once held. It creates a mirror you didn’t ask for, but one you can’t ignore.

I see her strength.

I see her love.

I see her uncertainty.

I see her trying.

And I see myself in every part of it.

Not in a critical way but in a deeply compassionate way.

I understand now that motherhood doesn’t come with a manual. It comes with moments of grace that carry us through what we cannot control.

Proverbs 31:28 says:

“Her children arise and call her blessed.”

That verse hits differently now. Because I know what it took to get here. I know the hidden sacrifices. I know the quiet prayers. I know the days that felt like they would never end.

And now I get to see my daughters begin their own version of that same journey.

Healing My Younger Self Through Grace, Not Guilt

For a long time, I carried guilt about how I raised my children. Not because I didn’t love them, but because there were times when I was selfish and wanted to do something just for me. I think many mothers understand that feeling more than they say out loud. We love our children deeply, yet we’re still human. Sometimes we long for a moment that belongs only to us, and that doesn’t make us bad mothers. It makes us women trying to balance caring for everyone else while not completely losing ourselves.

But something changes when you watch your daughter become a mother.

You start looking back at your younger self with more compassion than criticism. You remember the woman who was doing the best she could while trying to figure life out one day at a time. You realize that wanting a little space for yourself didn’t mean you loved your children any less.

You see that you weren’t a perfect mother, but you were a present one. You loved your children fiercely. You made mistakes, learned from them, and kept showing up every single day.

Somewhere in that realization, healing begins. The guilt you’ve carried for so many years starts to loosen its grip, and grace quietly takes its place.

God Redeems What We Could Not Perfect

There is a quiet redemption happening in this season of life that I didn’t expect.

Not a loud, dramatic kind of redemption.

A gentle one.

A steady one.

The kind that shows up in ordinary moments; rocking a grandbaby, watching your daughter learn, remembering your own journey, and realizing God never left any of it unattended.

Joel 2:25 says:

“I will restore to you the years that the locust has eaten.”

I used to think restoration meant getting something back exactly as it was.

Now I understand it differently.

Sometimes restoration looks like peace where there once was exhaustion.

Sometimes it looks like understanding where there once was confusion.

Sometimes it looks like watching your daughter and finally forgiving yourself.

A Quiet Kind of Healing That Changes Everything

I didn’t expect motherhood to circle back like this. I didn’t expect it to heal me while I watched it continue in someone else. But God often works in ways we don’t plan for and don’t predict.

As I watch my daughter become a mother, I don’t just see her beginning. I see my own beginning reflected back to me. And I see a God who carried both of us through seasons we didn’t fully understand at the time.

I also see something else now that I didn’t see before.

I see peace.

Not because everything was perfect.

But because God was present in every imperfect moment.

And that truth changes everything.

Walking Through the Bible

Walking Through the Bible: Exodus

Posted on June 30, 2026June 30, 2026 by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

My journey through the Bible continues, and this month I found myself immersed in the book of Exodus.

If I’m being honest, the first five books of the Bible have never been my favorites. For years, I looked at Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy as books I needed to get through rather than books I wanted to read. They seemed packed with history, laws, names I couldn’t pronounce, and details that felt far removed from my everyday life.

I knew they were important because they’re God’s Word, but I didn’t always understand why they mattered so much.

This time was different.

Instead of rushing through my reading just to stay on schedule, I slowed down. I started reading Scripture out loud. I prayed before I opened my Bible and asked God to show me His heart instead of simply helping me finish another chapter.

That simple change transformed everything.

If you’re wondering what sparked this journey, after months of looking for the “perfect” Bible study (which, let’s be honest, probably doesn’t exist), I finally settled on The Daily Grace Co. Year in the Bible study. More importantly, I changed my approach. I stopped reading just to check a box and started reading because I genuinely wanted to know God better.

As I made my way through Exodus, I expected to focus on Moses, Pharaoh, the ten plagues, the parting of the Red Sea, and Israel’s escape from Egypt.

Instead, I found myself seeing something else entirely.

I kept seeing God.

Not just what He was doing, but who He is.

That became the theme of Exodus for me.

God Is God

One truth kept rising to the surface over and over again.

There is no one like Him.

When I reached the account of the plagues, I noticed something I had never really paid attention to before. Each plague wasn’t random. God was confronting something the Egyptians worshiped. The Nile, the sun, livestock, fertility—even Pharaoh himself held religious significance in Egypt.

God wasn’t just sending disasters.

He was making a statement.

Every plague declared that He alone is God.

Later, when we read the First Commandment – “You shall have no other gods before Me” (Exodus 20:3) – it carries even more weight because we’ve already watched Him prove exactly why.

The funny thing is, we don’t worship golden calves or statues today.

At least most of us don’t.

But we can be just as guilty of putting other things ahead of God. Careers. Money. Relationships. Success. Comfort. Approval from other people. Sometimes we even put ourselves on that throne.

We look to those things to give us peace, purpose, security, or identity, but eventually they all disappoint us.

Only God can fill that place.

Exodus reminded me that God doesn’t ask for first place because He’s insecure. He asks for first place because He knows nothing else will ever satisfy the deepest parts of our hearts.

God Is Full of Grace

One of the things people often talk about in Exodus is how God hardened Pharaoh’s heart. But this time, something else stood out to me:

Pharaoh hardened his own heart over and over before we ever read that God hardened it.

God kept giving him opportunities to repent.

He sent Moses again and again. He warned him repeatedly. He demonstrated miracle after miracle. God could have ended the whole situation instantly. Instead, He showed incredible patience.

Psalm 103:8 says,

“The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in faithful love.”

I saw that verse lived out all through Exodus. God’s grace doesn’t mean He overlooks sin. It means He patiently gives people every opportunity to turn back to Him.

What an incredible picture of His mercy!

God Is the Most Patient Father

I’ll admit it. The Israelites drove me crazy.

God parts the Red Sea. They complain.

He provides food from heaven. They complain.

He gives them water from a rock. They complain.

He leads them with a pillar of cloud during the day and fire at night. They still complain.

More than once I caught myself thinking, Seriously? After everything you’ve seen, how could you possibly doubt God now?

Then the Holy Spirit gently turned that question back toward me.

How many times has God faithfully provided for me…only for me to worry about the very next problem? How many prayers has He answered that I’ve already forgotten? How many times has He proven Himself faithful, only for fear to creep back in anyway?

Ouch.

The Israelites aren’t nearly as different from us as we’d like to believe. Their story is our story. And yet, despite all their grumbling, God kept providing.

He fed them.

He guided them.

He protected them.

He never stopped being faithful, even when they weren’t. That’s not because their behavior deserved it. It’s because that’s who God is.

God Keeps His Promises

One of the saddest moments in Exodus happens after God has done so much for His people.

They make a golden calf.

After witnessing miracle after miracle, they still turn toward an idol. That part has always amazed me. But this time I found myself paying closer attention to God’s response. He was done. He wanted to destroy them. Be done with the whole lot of them and start over again.

But thank God for Moses! Moses intercedes for the people, reminding God of the covenant He made with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

God remains faithful to what He promised.

What struck me wasn’t Israel’s failure; it was God’s consistency.

People change.

Circumstances change.

Our emotions change.

God never changes.

Numbers 23:19 reminds us that God does not lie or change His mind like people do. His promises don’t depend on our perfection. They depend on His character.

And His character has never changed – not then, not now, and not ever.

The Tabernacle Changed Everything for Me

I’ll admit something else.

When I used to reach the chapters describing the Tabernacle, my eyes glazed over a little.

Measurements.

Fabric.

Wood.

Gold.

Lampstands.

Priestly garments.

It all felt repetitive. This time, though, I slowed down enough to ask why every detail mattered. The answer completely changed how I viewed those chapters.

God wasn’t giving architectural instructions because He cared about construction. He cared about His presence.

Exodus 25:8 says,

“They are to make a sanctuary for Me so that I may dwell among them.”

That verse stopped me.

The Tabernacle wasn’t really about a building. It was about relationship. God wanted to be with His people. Even more beautiful is realizing that every part of the Tabernacle points us toward Jesus.

Jesus became the perfect sacrifice.

Jesus fulfilled what the sacrificial system could never permanently accomplish. Because of Him, we don’t have to approach God through an earthly tabernacle anymore.

The veil has been torn.

The way has been opened.

We have direct access to our Heavenly Father.

A Personal Conviction

As I studied the Tabernacle, God gently impressed something on my heart that I honestly wasn’t expecting.

He doesn’t simply want to dwell among His people. He wants to dwell within His people.

I’ve read 1 Corinthians 6:19 many times:

“Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit who is in you?”

I’ve always understood those words. This time, though, they settled deep in my heart. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel guilt about not always taking care of my body: I felt gratitude.

If the Holy Spirit lives in me, then I want to honor Him, not because I’m trying to earn His love, but because I’ve already received it. It shifted my perspective completely. Taking care of myself became less about losing weight or looking different and more about being a good steward of what God has entrusted to me.

That was a beautiful conviction.

Falling in Love with God’s Word

Somewhere during my study of Exodus, I did something that might sound a little strange.

I hugged my Bible.

I know. It sounds silly. But I couldn’t help it. I’ve fallen in love with God’s Word in a way I never expected. The more I read, the more I want to read. The more I learn, the more I realize there is still so much to discover. One morning during my study, I had the sweetest thought settle into my heart.

It was almost as if the Lord whispered,

“Daughter, it is My delight to share My heart with you.”

I sat there for a long time just thinking about that. And then I realized something. That invitation wasn’t just for me. It’s for every one of us. God delights in revealing Himself to His children. He isn’t hiding. He’s inviting. Every page of Scripture reveals more of His character, His love, His faithfulness, and His heart.

Exodus reminded me of that over and over again.

And now…

I’m moving on to Leviticus.

I never thought I’d say this, but I’m actually excited to see what God has waiting for me there.

Dear Vikki Lynn

Posted on June 23, 2026June 18, 2026 by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

I’ve had a few things sitting on my heart lately, and over time they’ve all started to come together into one simple idea. I hope it becomes something that blesses you here.

Remembering “Dear Abby” and the Power of Shared Stories

I was watching a TV show the other day (don’t ask me which one – menopause brain) and they mentioned Dear Abby. For those who may not know, and if you’re over 50 you probably do, Dear Abby was an advice column that started back in the 1950s. Women from all walks of life would write in with questions about marriage, parenting, cooking, and everyday life. She would publish their questions and respond with wisdom and guidance.

There was also Ask Ann Landers, which followed the same idea.

And as I sat there watching, I thought… I’d like to do something like that here.

A Space Where Women Actually Support Women

I’ve always dreamed of this space being a place where women truly support women. Not the kind of space you so often see in comment sections online – where there’s judgment, division, or comparison – but something softer, kinder, and more real.

I want this to feel different.

A place where you can come in, grab your coffee, read for a while, leave a comment if you’d like, and walk away feeling more encouraged than when you arrived.

My heart is for connection without judgment, shame, or condemnation.

I’m Not an Expert—But I Do Know Life

I’m not here because I have everything figured out. I don’t.

But I do know what it means to walk through hard things.

I know what it feels like to be judged for my weight.

I know the heartbreak of miscarriage.

I know what it’s like to go through divorce after 10 years of marriage.

I know betrayal, and the long road of healing and forgiveness that follows.

I know what it feels like to think I’m losing my mind—only to realize it’s menopause.

And I also know how to pray for you.

Introducing “Dear Vikki Lynn”

So today, I want to gently launch something new here: Dear Vikki Lynn.

If you’ve been carrying something quietly – whether it’s a question, a struggle, a transition season, or just something heavy on your heart – you can write it here.

This isn’t about perfect wording. It’s not about having your life together. It’s about honesty in whatever season you’re in.

You can write about faith, family, grief, starting over, marriage, loneliness, identity, or anything else that feels important right now.

You are not alone in it. And sometimes putting it into words is the first step toward feeling a little lighter.

If Your Letter Is Shared

Some letters may be featured here on the blog, always with care, respect, and permission.

If shared, it may be posted anonymously or with just your first name, depending on your preference. My hope is always that your story might encourage someone else who is walking through something similar.

And just as importantly, that those who choose not to write in still feel seen and understood.

What I Want You to Know

Above everything else, I want you to know this:

You matter
I’m praying for you
You won’t be judged here
You are free to be honest
Nothing will ever be shared without your permission

This is a place of trust.

Before You Submit Your Question

Dear Vikki Lynn is not a professional advice column, counseling service, or source of expert guidance. My purpose is simply to offer encouragement, share a listening heart, and remind you that you’re not alone in whatever season you’re walking through.

While I may share personal experiences, faith-based reflections, and words of comfort, my responses are not intended to replace professional, medical, legal, financial, or mental health advice.

This is a place for connection, compassion, and prayer. If your question is selected, I will do my best to respond with kindness, understanding, and encouragement from the perspective of a fellow traveler on life’s journey.

Most of all, my hope is that you leave feeling seen, supported, and reminded that someone is praying for you.

How to Send Your Letter

You can send your letter in two ways:

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