2020 was supposed to be our year! At the start, everybody was ready for good to happen, and my word for the year was the perfect word for a wonderful year! Or so I thought.

My word was love; I wanted to understand the way God loves us on a much deeper level, to understand, from our Creator’s eyes, what love truly is. The thing about my relationship with God is that he knows I take my lessons best the hard way, and he provides for me practical life examples to learn by. So even though love is such a beautiful word, I knew that I would see painful and abrupt changes in my understanding of it.

Looking back at 2020, from the start, was like watching a perfectly timed catastrophe. Like an unexperienced man standing with his back to an open door of a plane, he loses his balance falling backward; in slow motion, out of the plane at 10,000 feet, with no parachute, with terror in his eyes, grabbing frantically at the plane but already too far gone to even feel it at his fingertips. He was free-falling towards the ground, at first seeing the plane shrink, smaller and smaller in the sky; not fully aware of the catastrophe he rushed towards. But then the wind whipped and twisted him, pulling at his limbs and shifted him so that he saw the ground rushing closer, and closer, and closer to him.

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It is Well

Anticipation is terrible feeling, something is coming, just beyond your reach and it taunts you from the darkness. 4 years ago, at this time, I was anticipating another year of nothingness, an empty heart, my chest void of joy. If my future could have been described by my past in one word: bleak. I had no joy for life, I was terribly depressed, lonely and isolated.

Over the next few months, I continually cried out to God to lift me out of the darkness, but I sank deeper still. Why did God allow me to suffer? Why did I continue to suffocate in the pitch-black abyss of my own mind? I cried out to God still, I only heard my own weeping.

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Writing through the Waters

I am the greatest of procrastinators. I delay, I find excuses, and I make justifications to wrestle with the pressing of God’s blessing on how he gifted me. I am a writer and I hate writing. I find it like homework. I find it unbearable how teachers (each teacher is different for those who are in the profession {in your defense 😀 }) subject you to tasks to meet some arbitrary word count, either regurgitating what you already read or to do further research on something you usually have a minuscule connection to. I could list countless examples, but I digress.

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The strength of a Warrior: How God helped me battle fear

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind”         

– 2 Timothy 1:7

For as long as I canlw remember, fear was something that controlled who I was and what I did. I allowed fear to keep me away from pursuing my goals. It was a huge factor in relationships as I struggled to trust others and trust God.  Fear had become my unwanted guest – the one that overstayed their welcome much longer than I had the energy to deal with. It was a cancer to my soul as it slowly killed off any surge of joy or hope I attempted to grasp. My heart was longing to be set free and open, and yet I was bound by fear and anxiety so much that I became prone to panic attacks.

At first, I was able to manage these, and would try to keep away from places that would “spark triggers”. Eventually, my avoidance led to agoraphobia. That means that my fears had exacerbated to the point where I could no longer leave my apartment for fear of something bad happening to me.

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Born Again


There I was, on my hands and knees. My heart ripped out of my chest. I went from having what I thought was everything, to having nothing. I was completely alone, scared, empty and broken down. I had no more tears to cry. It was 3:00 am on September 15th 2018 that I wanted to die. I chose to give up and throw in the towel. I was done. That was the night that would change my life forever. This is the story, my story, about a lost broken soul that was miraculously found and restored to find a NEW hope, and a NEW future. 

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Eric’s Story

I’m Eric Eckert and my story begins on May 29th 1986, I was born from a biological mother who abused drugs & alcohol and put in jail twice while pregnant with me. I was born with a cancer called Fibrosarcoma throughout my body and even in my chest cavity and coming out throughout my back.  I was expected to die in several months according to the doctors. The State of Arizona took me away from my birth mother immediately at birth. Several months after my birth the doctors chose to amputate my right foot below my ankle because it was completely full of cancer. I spent the first 3 months of my life in a hospital and a total of 11months of my life on Chemotherapy.

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Imagine being surrounded by the unknown. You walk through the arch of your destination, one that you’ve never seen before. Scores of individuals are gathered in circles, chatting away with an increasingly loud volume and staring as you slowly and fearfully move from the outside to the inside. As you proceed to move past the swarms of people, the intense pressure and evident intrigue of the locals creates a sense of the room closing on you, as if someone was turning the room pitch black like the end of an episode from cartoons of decades past. You see a silhouette quickly closing in. The person greets you with a smile and asks your name, but most of your energy is focused on staying awake. The one person then proceeds to fire a barrage of questions, genuinely interested yet unaware of your background, circumstances, feelings, etc.

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My Testimony

My dad is a pastor, so I grew up in a loving Christian home where my parents always taught of God’s love for me. When I was six, I made the decision to accept Christ. As I look back on it, I know it was a genuine decision, but it wasn’t until many years later that I came to truly know and appreciate a deep relationship with God.

I was a pretty good kid as the years went by. In high school, I was the type of kid who would rather stay home playing games or watching movies with my parents instead of going out and partying. I had a strong sense of identity in Christ and was proud of being a Christian. I was the drama and choir geek who, on the outside at least, seemed to be proud of her outgoing, crazy, loud self. However, on the inside, I felt a strong need to belong. I wanted to be the popular one, the girl who got the guy, the one who every girl wanted to be.

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You see what I can’t see

How frustrating is it to do a puzzle and then get to the end and realize, oh, my gosh, I’m missing a piece?! You almost want to call the manufacturer and be like, nooo! I need it. I need my piece. You need the satisfaction. Because how many of you know the joy of doing a puzzle is actually all about putting the last piece into place?! So, why is it that, in life, we’re always feeling like there’s one last puzzle piece we haven’t found yet?

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I Should Be Further Along By Now

That is a lie I have listened to more times than I would like to admit. A lie I have convinced myself as truth since being faced with a hard dose of reality after graduating college.

I’ve had a love for nature for as long as I can remember. I spent most of my childhood camping, hiking, going to museums, exploring outdoors, asking questions about literally everything. That eventually led to one single class in high school where my passion for the environment truly took root and motivated me to pursue a degree in that field. Unfortunately, I had this unrealistic expectation when I graduated that a bachelor’s degree with no relevant experience would guarantee me a career job. I was in for a rude awakening.

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