Posted in Bookish and Bingeable

Confessions of a Devout Viewer of British Murder Mysteries

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

I need to confess something.

I watch a shocking amount of British murder mysteries.

Not casually. Not “oh I’ve seen a few episodes.” I mean season-after-season, Christmas-special-included, spin-off-considered-canon levels of commitment.

If there were a degree in “Homicide in Quaint English Villages and Occasionally Windswept Coastal Regions,” I would graduate with honors. Possibly valedictorian. With a dissertation on “The Suspicious Nature of Florists.”

It started innocently enough. One cozy detective show. A charming inspector. A slightly ominous soundtrack.

Now I no longer trust anyone who:

  • Owns a manor house
  • Inherited anything
  • Says “How very odd…”

Midsomer Murders: Do Not Move There

Let us begin with Midsomer Murders.

The English countryside has never looked so inviting… or so statistically dangerous.

Flower festivals? Murder.
Writers’ retreats? Murder.
Bell-ringing competitions? Definitely murder.

Inspector Barnaby strolls through villages so charming they look like teapot paintings, calmly solving what must be the highest per-capita homicide rate in Europe.

And yet—tea is served. People apologize for being suspected. The murderer often confesses with impressive emotional restraint.

It’s chaos. But polite chaos.

Death in Paradise: Murder With a Tan

Then there’s Death in Paradise.

A brilliant detective solving crimes on a Caribbean island while stubbornly wearing a full suit in tropical humidity.

Palm trees sway. The ocean sparkles. Steel drums play.

And someone has just been poisoned at a beach bar.

The commitment to formal attire alone deserves an award.

The formula is flawless:

  • Closed-circle mystery
  • Eccentric suspect
  • Shocking-but-not-really reveal

All delivered at sunset.

It’s murder… but cheerful.

Return to Paradise: Sunshine and Suspicion

Return to Paradise continues the tradition of breathtaking scenery paired with deeply inconvenient deaths.

Blue skies. Coastal views. And yet everyone has motive.

I can no longer look at a scenic overlook without thinking, “Yes, this is where someone would dramatically discover a body.”

Father Brown: Gentle, Observant, Terrifyingly Insightful

Father Brown is possibly the coziest homicide-solving priest in television history.

Soft-spoken. Thoughtful. Cycling around the countryside.

And then quietly dismantling your alibi with unnerving precision.

There’s something delightful about a parish fête turning into a crime scene and Father Brown gently saying, “I’m afraid that isn’t entirely true.”

It makes murder feel… wholesome?

Which is concerning.

Inspector George Gently: Moody and Moral

Inspector George Gently brings us grit and moral depth.

Set in the 1960s, it’s less teacups and more tension. Rain-soaked streets. Ethical dilemmas. Brooding stares.

It’s the kind of show that makes you reflect on justice and humanity… while admiring excellent wool coats.

Vera: Wind, Wisdom, and Withering Looks

Ah, Vera.

If windswept Northumberland were a person, it would be Vera Stanhope in a sensible hat.

She trudges across bleak coastlines and rolling moors with unmatched determination and zero tolerance for nonsense.

No glamour. No theatrics. Just sharp instincts and deeply perceptive interrogations.

Vera doesn’t need dramatic monologues. She just needs one raised eyebrow and a quiet “Pet…” before unraveling your entire story.

I aspire to that level of unbothered competence.

Shetland: Where It’s Always Windy and Emotionally Complex

Then there’s Shetland.

Stunning. Stark. Windswept to the point that I feel cold watching it.

The scenery is breathtaking in a “you might emotionally unravel here” kind of way.

The mysteries are layered. The characters are complicated. The atmosphere is intense.

Also, everyone looks like they’ve just come in from standing dramatically on a cliff contemplating secrets.

I respect that aesthetic deeply.

Agatha Christie Mysteries: The Blueprint for It All

And of course, we must bow respectfully to the queen: Agatha Christie.

Whether it’s Poirot with his impeccable mustache and immaculate suits, or Miss Marple quietly observing everyone while knitting, these stories are the foundation of my obsession.

Drawing rooms.
Teacups.
Inheritance disputes.
A gathering of suspects.

And then:

“I will now explain exactly what happened.”

There is no greater comfort than a Belgian detective straightening a cuff and restoring order to the universe.

Christie taught us that human nature is complex, motives are layered, and someone is always listening more closely than you think.

The Miniseries: My Weekend Disappears

And then there are the British miniseries.

Four episodes.
One stately home.
Everyone is lying.

These are dangerous.

You say, “I’ll just watch one.”

Suddenly it’s 1:42 a.m., and you’ve uncovered generational betrayal, financial fraud, and a tragic poisoning.

I emerge exhausted… and immediately search for another.

I Am Now Suspicious of Everyone

This genre has changed me.

I cannot attend a garden party without quietly assessing motive.

  • The overly helpful neighbor? Suspicious.
  • The charming newcomer? Definitely hiding something.
  • The person who says, “What a lovely evening”? Prime suspect.

British murder mysteries have taught me:

  1. The least likely person absolutely did it.
  2. The kindest person might be harboring resentment.
  3. If someone says, “I can’t imagine who would want him dead,” they absolutely can.

I now narrate ordinary life in a dramatic British accent.

“She had no idea… this cup of tea would be her undoing.”

(It was chamomile. Everyone survived.)

Why Is This So Comforting?

On paper, this obsession seems questionable.

But here’s the truth: it’s about resolution.

No matter how tangled the story becomes:

  • Clues matter.
  • Truth surfaces.
  • Justice prevails.
  • Order is restored.

And someone always explains everything before the credits roll.

Life doesn’t always give us tidy endings.

But in Midsomer? It does.
On a tropical island? It does.
On the moors with Vera? It does.
On Shetland’s cliffs? It does.
In Poirot’s drawing room? Absolutely.

Even the chaos feels structured.

Tea is poured.
Coats are tailored.
The detective always knows.

And maybe that’s why I keep watching.

So if you visit my house and hear dramatic orchestral music swelling from the living room, don’t worry.

I am not plotting anything.

I’m simply admiring countryside scenery, narrowing suspects, and feeling deeply reassured that somewhere, in some fictional village, someone is about to say:

“I believe I know who did it.”

And honestly?

So do I.

Photo by Rodion Kutsaiev on Unsplash
Posted in Moments and Musings

Stop Trying to Be Perfect—God’s Making Something New in You

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

The Old Is Gone, the New Is Here
 2 Corinthians 5:17

Ever feel like no matter how hard you try, you’re still not enough? Not smart enough, not good enough, not even close to where you think you should be? You’re not alone. And here’s the best news: God is in the process of making all things new—even you—right now.

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!”

Can I be honest? For a long time, I thought this verse only applied to new Christians. I’d read it and think, “Well, that’s great… but I’ve been born again for a while now, so… this doesn’t really apply to me.”

But recently, as I was looking for verses about starting a new season, this one popped up. I almost swiped past it—again—when the Spirit whispered, “Wait! This IS for you. I’m doing something new in you right now. And five minutes from now, I’ll still be doing something new. And tomorrow, I’ll still be doing something new.”

Isn’t that the BEST news ever?

Lately, it feels like every flaw, every insecurity in me is highlighted, underlined, and bolded in my brain. There’s a cruel voice that circles endlessly, saying:

  • You’re not good enough.
  • You’re too old.
  • You’re too dumb.
  • You’re a failure.

And just when I start to feel the weight of it all, another voice joins in with condemnation: “And what’s worse, you know better. You don’t pray enough. You don’t read the Word enough. God isn’t using you… and maybe He can’t.”

If you listen long enough, these voices drown out the encouragement spoken over you every day by people who love you and see the truth.

It’s no secret that the devil lies. He wants you to feel isolated, depressed, and unworthy. He thrives on comparison. But here’s the good news: it’s also no secret that God has overcome evil. He sees when you feel low, unloved, and worthless. He is a present help in times of need, and He uses His people to remind you who you are in Him.

I’ve spent a lifetime trying—and failing—to be perfect. (Imagine that!) Very recently, during a walk with my dog, God whispered to me: Stop being so hard on yourself. I already died for you. I already approve of you. I already love you, and nothing can stop that. I’m not done with you. And until Jesus returns, I never will be. All you need to do is accept and receive.

Easier said than done some days—but, like billions of others, I’m a work in progress.

So why write this blog? And why does this verse suddenly hit differently?

Because Jesus. Plain and simple.

The old is gone, and the new is here because of Him. I used to read this verse as a linear, “one-and-done” promise: You’re born again—BOOM—you’re new. End scene. Read your Bible. Pray. Repeat. But it’s not a single event; it’s an ongoing process.

Revelation 21:5 says, “Behold, I am making all things new.”

  • Behold means to observe something remarkable.
  • Making is an action word—something God is actively doing.

God is always in the process of removing the old and bringing in the new. And thankfully, He’s not a one-size-fits-all God. He knows our struggles, our weaknesses, our perfectionism, and He meets us right where we are.

So why this verse matters:

  • The old things are gone. They don’t define you anymore.
  • The new is here. Jesus is making things new in your life—right now, in this moment.
  • It’s a process, happening over and over again. Daily. Moment by moment.

Jesus is the new. He’s here. Now. And He is enough.

You don’t have to earn God’s love, fix yourself, or be perfect. The process is already happening. The old is gone. The new is here. And it’s all because of Jesus. All you need to do is accept it—and let Him keep making you new.

Photo by Diego PH on Unsplash
Posted in Moments and Musings

Healing and Wisdom

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

I have two grown daughters. Shelby is 28 and Emilie is 27—born just 13 months apart. I love my girls fiercely. It is truly my honor and privilege to be their mom.

“Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from Him.” —Psalm 127:3

It hasn’t always been easy. Though close in age, they couldn’t be more different if they tried.

When they were both babies, I remember asking the Lord what they would be when they grew up. I was impatient, longing for a glimpse of their future. And God, in His mercy, answered.

He gave me two words: healing and wisdom.

Shelby, He said, would have the gift of healing. Emilie would speak words of wisdom—words that soothe the soul and bring order to chaos. I heard Him as clearly as if He were standing in the room with me.

Then He told me to lay my hands on them and pray, because the battle for these two would be fierce.

“For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against rulers, against authorities, against the powers of this dark world.” —Ephesians 6:12

Shelby: The Healer Who Had to Fight

Shelby has spent her life battling health issues—both physical and mental. Diagnosed as a baby with chronic ear infections and asthma that hospitalized her multiple times, she quickly became familiar with doctors’ offices and medications.

Later came more diagnoses: neurofibromatosis, social anxiety requiring medication, speech issues from scarring on her eardrums, a hearing disorder, a learning disability, and eventually, as an adult, Asperger’s.

She lives a quiet, responsible, lovely little life with me—working full time and enjoying the small freedom of disposable income for gaming. She’s private about her relationship with God, but I know this: once that girl fully flips the switch and gives everything over to Him, she will be unstoppable.

“The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.” —Exodus 14:14

I see the healer God spoke of all those years ago.

She’s quick with a hug or a surprise latte when I’m feeling low. Her homemade chicken soup is nothing short of magic—if someone sniffles, she’s already pulling out the recipe and putting a pot on the stove. She has absolutely fought for her anointing.

Shelby is also brilliant in ways many don’t see. She understands technology intuitively. This past year, she built her own gaming computer from scratch. Watching her play is astounding—her mind moves fast, strategically, brilliantly.

“Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others.” —1 Peter 4:10

She is truly amazing.

Emilie: Wisdom Forged in Loneliness

Emilie has spent her life fighting to be taken seriously.

Tested as a child for ADHD, we learned that while she is ADD, she’s also hyper-intelligent. She is incredibly smart—but not in a traditional, scholarly way. She could have done well in school if she’d applied herself, but to Emilie, book smarts and wisdom didn’t always walk hand in hand.

Friendships were difficult, especially during her teenage years. She wasn’t interested in what typical teen girls were interested in. Dating didn’t appeal to her—she’d seen it destroy too many friendships and create too much drama. Emilie never wanted a boyfriend. She wanted a husband. And a house full of children.

School felt secondary to what mattered most to her: baking, loving her family, her unwavering relationship with God, and her desire to be a wife and mother.

“If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all.” —James 1:5

She knew how smart she was—and that made friendships harder. Girls teased her for not having college aspirations. Girls who mocked her seriousness. Girls who told her she was “too wound up” and just needed to loosen up.

Emilie wanted no part of that.

Sleeping around violated her core beliefs, and in her wisdom, she wasn’t afraid to call out unladylike behavior. The cost of that courage was steep. High school was painfully lonely.

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world.” —Romans 12:2

But the price she paid bore fruit.

Today, Emilie has a godly husband from a family rooted deeply in a relationship with Jesus. Together, they are wise with money, and she is able to stay home with their daughter. Slowly and faithfully, they are building her baking business.

She is living the very life she prayed for.

“Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and He will establish your plans.” —Proverbs 16:3

When I need advice, I call Emilie. She has wisdom in abundance, and every word she speaks brings clarity, encouragement, and peace.

For the Moms Reading This

Why am I telling you all of this?

Because I am proud—proud as punch—of my girls.

They have been through it. They have fought battles most people never see. And they have paid a high price for their respective anointings.

Healing and wisdom.

God knew exactly what He was doing.

“Being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion.” —Philippians 1:6

Mama, if you’re in the thick of it—if your child’s path looks harder, lonelier, or more confusing than you imagined—don’t stop praying. Don’t stop blessing them. Don’t stop believing that God sees what you can’t yet see.

Lay hands on your children.
Speak life over them.
Pray boldly over their calling.

Their struggle may very well be guarding their anointing.

And one day, you’ll look back and realize:
God was faithful all along.

Photo by me. @vikkilynnsorensen. All rights reserved.
Posted in Faith, Food and Forward Steps

January Monthly Check-In

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

Monthly Check-In: A Healthier Me

Month: January
  Year: 2026

How This Month Went (The Big Picture)

January felt rushed and hurried, yet somehow slow at the very same time. Getting sick right out of the gate didn’t help—especially since I turn into a full-blown carb hoarder when I’m under the weather. I crave pasta, brothy soups loaded with noodles and veggies, and endless slices of toast.

Then came the deep freeze. The kind of extreme cold that brings snow, keeps you indoors, and practically demands comfort food. Heavy meals. Cozy couches. Very little movement.

All of it added up to a start that didn’t exactly align with my health goals. Not because I didn’t care—but because winter, illness, and real life showed up first.

What Went Well

Celebrate the wins, big or small. Nothing is too minor to count.

·       Swapping sweets for cappuccinos.
 Instead of our usual nightly ice cream, my sister and I started having cappuccinos in the evening. She got a Mambo coffee machine (not a coffee pot—an actual machine), and that small switch felt indulgent without being heavy. Same ritual, different choice.

·       Finding better recipes.
 I came across several recipes that are high in protein and packed with vegetables. I may not have cooked them all yet, but finding them counts. It means I’m thinking ahead and setting myself up to make better choices soon.

·       Choosing to invest in movement.
 I decided to get a treadmill—and I stopped caring about the cost. I’d rather invest in my health now than invest in medications later. That mindset shift alone feels like progress.

What Was Hard

This is a judgment-free space. Name the struggles without shame.

·       Not overeating.
 Being sick, stuck inside, and surrounded by comfort food made it hard to stop when I was already full.

·       Not overloading on carbs during the snowstorm weekend.
 Cold weather and snow days tend to push me straight toward heavy, carb-loaded meals—and resisting that pull wasn’t easy.

·       Not moving nearly enough.
 Between illness, extreme cold, and too much couch time, my activity level dropped way more than I wanted it to.

Habits I’m Working On

The habits I’m intentionally building or strengthening.

·       More vegetables, less carbs.
 Not elimination—just better balance and more intention with what’s on my plate.

·       More movement, less excuses.
 Even small amounts count. Consistency matters more than perfection.

·       More encouragement, less influence in the wrong direction.
 I want to cheer others on in healthier choices, not drag them into my own unhealthy habits.

Habits I Need to Let Go Of

The things that aren’t serving my health or peace.

·       Guilt.
 It took 57 years to get this body to where it is—and that won’t be undone overnight. Guilt isn’t motivation; it’s baggage. I’m done carrying it.

·       Excuses.
 Yes, some things are out of my control—like bitter cold weather that keeps me indoors. But that doesn’t mean movement isn’t possible. I can still show up for myself at home.

·       Procrastination.
 It’s time to be a Day One girl and stop being a One Day girl. Waiting hasn’t worked. Starting will.

Food & Nourishment

How I fueled my body this month.

  • What worked well with eating? Swapping nightly ice cream for cappuccinos, paying more attention to protein and vegetables, and being more mindful of why I was eating—comfort versus hunger.

  • What needs adjustment? Portion awareness, especially with carbs during stress and cold weather. More consistent movement, even on indoor days. And planning meals ahead of time so healthier choices are easier to follow through on.

Accountability Corner

(Sharing with grace, not shame.)

  • Change this month: Gained a total of 0.6 lbs. Not ideal and not the direction I hoped for—but also not catastrophic. More information than failure, and something I can respond to moving forward.


Lessons Learned

What this month taught me:

This month reminded me that progress isn’t linear—and it rarely starts perfectly. Getting sick, being snowed in, and moving slower than planned didn’t mean I failed; it meant I was living real life.

I learned that small shifts matter. Swapping ice cream for cappuccinos. Looking for better recipes. Choosing to invest in tools that support my health. None of it was loud or dramatic, but all of it was intentional.

Most of all, this month taught me that grace and discipline can exist together. I don’t have to punish myself to change. I just have to keep choosing “day one” again and again.

Looking Ahead to Next Month

February – God’s Love & Grace

“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail.” — Lamentations 3:22–23

Health goals for the coming month:

• Buy the treadmill and actually use it.
 Not perfectly. Not every day. Just consistently enough to build the habit and make movement part of my routine.

• Cook more, cook better, cook cleaner.
 More meals at home using whole, simple ingredients—lean protein, vegetables, and foods that support how I want to feel.

Closing Thoughts

And just to say it out loud: getting sick, eating comfort food, and resting during a snowstorm is not moral failure—it’s being a person with a body. Health goals don’t disappear because January was messy. They just wait for you to come back with kindness.

Invitation

If you’re on a similar journey, I’d love to hear from you.
What worked for you this month? What are you struggling with?

© 2025 VikkiLynnSorensen. All Rights Reserved.
Posted in Moments and Musings

Don’t Waste Your Art on Anger

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

There’s a quote from the 1989 film Dead Poets Society that has stayed with me for years. Robin Williams’s character says:

“Poetry, beauty, romance, love—these are what we stay alive for.”

That line has always rung true to me. Art, in all its forms, was never meant to be a weapon or a megaphone for outrage. Art is about meaning. It’s about connection. It’s about beauty. It’s about reminding us—especially in difficult seasons—why life is still worth living.

And yet, the longer I spend in online creative spaces, the more I see art being used for something else entirely.

Around 2020, as I became more active on social media, I intentionally sought out communities built around the things I love. I adore books, so bookstagram felt like a natural fit. I wanted to talk about stories, discover new authors, share what I was reading, and write about the books that moved me.

That’s not what I found.

Instead, I found politics. Anger. Rage. Cancel culture. Public shaming. Nastiness—often aimed at strangers. And it wasn’t limited to one side of the political spectrum. It was everywhere. The joy of reading, the beauty of storytelling, and the love of language were drowned out by outrage and moral grandstanding.

I lasted maybe two years before I was tired. Not just annoyed—tired. Spiritually tired. Creatively tired. Emotionally tired.

A couple of years ago, I tried again. This time, I stepped into the online craft community. Once more, I hoped to find inspiration, encouragement, and artists whose work would challenge me to grow. I even saw it as a way to market what I hope will someday be a thriving business.

But here I am again, considering stepping away.

Why?

Because once again, I’m watching people use their art to express anger and rage.

Before this is misunderstood, let me be clear: this is not a commentary on anyone’s personal politics, nor is it a declaration of my own. I am constantly soul-searching, praying, and thinking deeply about what I believe. What I do know is this—man-made politics will always be imperfect. Always. Only God reigns supreme, and only His ways are perfect.

I also believe—strongly—that someone can love God wholeheartedly, serve Him faithfully, and maintain a beautiful relationship with Him while voting differently than I do. And that’s okay. Differences without division. My pastor says that often, and it’s something I hold onto tightly.

People love to say, “Art is political.”

I disagree.

Art is only political if you make it political.

At its core, art is meant to be beautiful and precious. It’s meant to tell stories, stir the soul, and create something that didn’t exist before. It’s meant to point us toward hope, not deepen our despair. As Dead Poets Society so perfectly puts it, poetry, beauty, romance, and love are what we stay alive for.

What troubles me most, though, is the contradiction I keep seeing.

The same artists who repeatedly say, “I craft for my mental health,” often create nothing but anger and rage. If every piece is fueled by outrage, if every project exists to provoke or condemn, how is that healing? How is that restorative? Anger doesn’t disappear once the project is finished—it lingers. What we pour into our art shapes us in return.

To be clear, this isn’t an announcement that I’m shutting down my Instagram account or walking away from social media entirely. It is a conscious decision to be far more intentional about what I consume, what I engage with, and what I allow to influence my heart. Protecting my peace isn’t avoidance—it’s stewardship. Not every conversation deserves my energy, and not every creative space is healthy for my spirit.

Above all else, my objective remains unchanged: to love the way Jesus loves—everyone, and at all times. That means choosing grace over outrage, humility over hostility, and compassion over the need to be right. I don’t want my creativity—or my character—to be shaped by anger. I want it shaped by love.

So if that means fewer hours scrolling and more hours actually creating, I’m okay with that. If that means stepping back from spaces that thrive on judgment and rage, I’m okay with that too. I’ll gladly trade noise for beauty, outrage for peace, and endless commentary for meaningful creation.

I’ll probably spend more time on Pinterest. I’ll definitely spend more time making things—things that are lovely, thoughtful, and life-giving. Things that remind me why I fell in love with art in the first place.

Because poetry, beauty, romance, and love really are what we stay alive for. And I refuse to waste my art on anger.

Scripture reminds us, “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things” (Philippians 4:8). That is the posture I want my art—and my life—to reflect. Not anger. Not rage. But beauty, truth, and love.

A Prayer

Lord,
Thank You for the gift of creativity and for the ability to make things that reflect beauty, truth, and love. Guard my heart from anger that hardens and outrage that distracts. Help me to be a good steward of the gifts You’ve placed in my hands and the voice You’ve given me.

Teach me to create from a place of peace rather than reaction, from love rather than fear. When the noise grows loud and division feels tempting, draw me back to what is good, what is lovely, and what brings life. Shape my art so that it points to You and reflects Your grace.

Most of all, help me to love as You love—freely, generously, and without condition. May my words, my work, and my choices honor You in both what I create and what I choose to lay down.

Amen.

Photo by Alexander Shatov on Unsplash