What Makes Your Story


My first morning on Edisto I poured my coffee and wandered down to the beach that’s almost unrecognizable behind the tower of manmade sand piles standing in for washed away dunes.

And I walked right into the sunrise.

I sat in that damp sand in my yoga pants with the bleach stain, closed my eyes, and hoped this was a blessing and a confirmation and a warmth I could cling to on all the cold nights when I wake up slightly riddled with anxiety over Amazon sales rankings and bookstore dealings.

I think it was.


Standing in the sun, driving under the oaks, breathing deep the air that stirs my soul reminds me over and over that I am really nothing but a witness. My story is your story is our story–a retelling of a story that’s older and stronger and wiser than any words we could ever find.

In my small group right now, my leader friend talked about the four components of every story–not plot and character and setting and theme as writers believe.

Creation. Fall. Redemption. Restoration.

The parts that really matter. We all have them in our story. Repeating over and over in small moments and seasons and journeys. Manifesting bigger and bigger and ever-changing.

So I ask you today–what’s creating you? What’s shaping your story? What’s fallen or redeemed or restored within your own life?

And in the end, who’s writing your story? 


With my fellow Word Weavers and conference writers, this week we mourn the loss of a great man who knew exactly who wrote his story. Who took time in his last days to tell me he was praying for mine. Who I called soon after my near fatal car accident in February to say, I know he said we should all live like we’re dying but that was a close one. I know beyond doubt Bruce’s health is full restored today and he’s standing in the sun. 

I’ll be sharing all about my Lowcountry book tour–and my current favorite podcasts, reads, and recipes–in the Newsletter tomorrow. Sign up for free or follow my author page on Facebook, Lindsey P. Brackett.

faith · reflections · writing

What’s the Presence You Really Want?

Last week the heavens cracked open and poured rain all over the blue-tinged mountains we call Appalachia. So much that when I returned home from my writers conference in Asheville, the local paper’s headline bemoaned how we’d gone from not enough rain to way too much.

Trees down. Roads flooded. A general soggy mess. And a couple days of sunshine not near enough to dry things out.

By the time I came home from BRMCWC, that’s pretty much how I felt too. A little soggy and a lot poured out–not quite like that Luke verse I love that promises a good measure. More like when my kids spill a glass of sweet tea and there’s a sticky mess.

All my new writer friends (and wow, are these people talented and creative and fresh voiced) came home and got to work. More Facebook pages and new blogs and book proposals have been created in the last three days then I can even begin to follow.

I came home and crashed.

I had to read Pepper Basham’s new book, y’all. It’s part of my job after all. You should read it too. Especially if you need a nice break and a does of good romance.

Then that little ugly green streak quivered its way up my arm, heading straight for my heart. What if she gets an agent and I don’t? What if her book’s a bestseller and mine’s not? What if her blog goes viral and mine stays sleepy?

Yeah, even those of us who have “made it” get those niggling pains of fear disguised as jealousy.

Because that’s really what it is. Fear. Fear of never being good enough. Fear of never giving back enough. Fear of God not taking my offering and finding it as worthy as hers or his.

In my last few days, I finally swiped open my friend Matthew’s new book. He’s a Blue Ridge friend, of course. Last year, gala awards, same table. A Presbyterian pastor from Canada and a Southern Baptist girl from Georgia and we connected over the one thing that matters most–awe at what God is doing.


In Let God Be Present, Matthew writes, “Moses needed more than the promise of God’s presence. He needed to see it, and see it now. He was at the point of really wanting it. He wanted it because he was the one who had to lead the people. He wanted it for his people because he knew they would be the ones who would have to try and live out the holy life of work and rest in God’s name, for others to see and be drawn to the most beautiful, wonderful, awe-filled relastionship there is. They would need to live this God-filled life.”

Matthew goes on to ask in challenge, “He wants the presence of God. Do we?”

Do I?

Because if I am truly surrendered to the Adonai of all, then my desire–before I ever open this laptop to tap out words or bend the spine of my journal to scratch them–will be for God’s presence.

Dear friends, if what you’re doing right now doesn’t invite God’s presence, may I encourage you to take some time and rest? Slow the busyness and invite God into your everyday ordinary. You might be surprised how He calls you out from there.


Did you know my debut novel, Still Waters,  is available for pre-order on Amazon? I know, I still get all the grins. It’s in the cover design process with my publisher, but don’t judge a book by that–right? And if you want more info on how you can spread the word follow me on Facebook as Lindsey P. Brackett, Author.


Light in the Dark


I taught my girls a social studies lesson last night while I made chicken enchiladas for the college students whose Bible Study we were hosting. Somehow, it is in the menial tasks that I find the courage to impart truth.

They ran back and forth between the kitchen and our big world globe and it took them far too many tries to locate Israel and its neighbors. It a few stumbling attempts for me and their father to tell them the little we truly know about those countries and their people. We talked about Abraham and his sons and God’s promises to both those boys that are being played out today in our lives right here in America.

We talked about how fear is strong but God is love. 

And love trumps hate no matter if you’re left or right or stuck somewhere in the middle.

Then our power went out and the wind kicked up and snow and sleet poured down in fury and vengeance. For fifteen minutes, our world stayed dark and wind whipped the trees and we left dinner on the counter and sat in the basement.

Then the sun came out–so strong and bright I needed no extra light for the bit longer the power remained out. Golden light flooded my kitchen windows and pooled on our hardwood floors and there was no sign of a storm, only skies becoming bluer by the second. Skies that washed only a short time later with the brilliance of a winter sunset.

Because the light always triumphs over the dark. 

“You are the salt of the earth; but if the salt loses its flavor, how shall it be seasoned? It is then good for nothing but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot by men.

14 “You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden. 15 Nor do they light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house.

–Matthew 5: 13-15 NKJ

Have  you signed up for my newsletter? I’m sending out my January edition this week full of goodies like: the best book I read this month, the easiest pizza dough ever, which stage my debut novel is in with the publisher, and how you can join me in praying for our country.

faith · Uncategorized

Why God Does(n’t) Love You

He doesn’t love you because you pack healthy lunches.

He doesn’t love you because you volunteer for every ministry.

He doesn’t love you because you tithe ten percent.

He doesn’t love you because your kids always match.

He doesn’t love you because you have a big house.

He doesn’t love you because you have a new car.

He doesn’t love you because you went to college.

He doesn’t love you because you are pro-life.

He doesn’t love you because you have a well-ordered home.

He doesn’t love you because your children are healthy.

He doesn’t love you because everything always goes your way.

He doesn’t love you because you asked.

He loves you in spite of all these things. He loves you although you believe He couldn’t. He loves you when you’re perfect but I think He loves you more when you’re not.

Because then you need Him. Then you’re crying. Then you’re ready to say you are incapable of creating a perfect life.

There is no perfect life.

There is only a harsh world through which filters goodness and grace and glory.

Because God does love you. For all the reasons you think He shouldn’t.