I own more than 20 HalfTees and have been wearing them for nearly two decades.

That’s not an exaggeration.

In a world where clothing brands come and go, I’ve remained a loyal customer through multiple pregnancies, years of breastfeeding, raising five kids, working as a chaplain, and through countless wardrobe seasons.

So if you’re searching for an honest HalfTee review, here’s mine:

I didn’t keep buying HalfTees because they were trendy. I kept buying them because they solved a real problem.

And after nearly 20 years, they’re still solving it.

If you decide to try HalfTees, use code KRISTYLYNN20 for 20% off!

In This HalfTee Review

• What Are HalfTees?

• Why I’ve Been Buying HalfTees for Nearly 20 Years

• The HalfTees I Reach For Most Often

• Who HalfTees Are Best For

• Exclusive HalfTee Promo Code (20% Off)

• FAQs

• HalfTee vs. Traditional Layering Camis

• Opportunity for Creators: The HalfTee Affiliate Program

The Problem That Led Me to HalfTees

I discovered HalfTees while I was pregnant with our third child. And I was super frustrated with traditional layering camis. (Ever been there? 🖐️)

Every option felt miserable. Full-length camis added extra heat and bulk. Most rode up throughout the day. Others were uncomfortable during pregnancy and made nursing awkward after baby arrived.

I wanted something simple:

• Coverage

• Comfort

• No bulk

That was it.

Then one day, I found HalfTees during an online search. My first thought was honestly, “Where have these been all my life?”

The design seemed almost too simple: A layering cami cut in half.

That simple solution fixed nearly every wardrobe frustration I was having.

What Are HalfTees?

If you’re unfamiliar with the brand, HalfTees are exactly what they sound like: layering camis designed to provide coverage without the extra fabric of a traditional tank top.

Because the garment ends beneath the bust, you get the coverage you want without adding another full layer underneath your clothes. Brilliant!

The result:

• Less heat

• Less bulk

• Greater comfort

• Easier layering

For women who want a bit of coverage, nurse babies, experience hot flashes, live in warm climates, or simply dislike extra layers—the design is surprisingly practical.

HalfTee Review: Why I've Been Buying HalfTees for Nearly 20 Years

As I've gotten older, I've become increasingly interested in simplifying life—including my wardrobe and my makeup routine.

✨ Read next: “Minimalist Makeup for Hot Weather”

Here are three simple reasons why I think HalfTees are worth it:

1. HalfTees Make Getting Dressed Easier

I’ve never enjoyed complicated wardrobes. And the older I get (I’m 45), the more I value clothing that simply works.

HalfTees make getting dressed easier because they instantly solve neckline and coverage issues. Instead of wondering whether a top is too low-cut or whether a dress passes the coverage test for “business casual,” I reach for a HalfTee and move on with my day.

It’s one less decision to make.

Between family life, writing, and serving as a chaplain, I appreciate clothing that simply works without requiring extra thought.

2. They Extend My Wardrobe

This is probably the biggest reason I’ve remained a customer for so long.

I've worn HalfTees everywhere from playgrounds and homeschool co-ops to church events, travel days, and chaplaincy work.

✨ Read next: “Working Homeschool Mom Favorite Things”

Instead of replacing half my wardrobe whenever my circumstances or body changed, I could continue wearing many of the same pieces simply by layering differently.

That’s a practical solution that saves both money and frustration.

And as someone who values stewardship and intentional living, I appreciate products that help me use what I already own.

3. They Last for Years

Quality matters.

I still have HalfTees that are years old. Not months. Years.

In fact, for a season my teenage daughters were constantly “borrowing” mine, so some of these pieces have been worn by multiple women over many years.

The key to making HalfTees LAST is simple:

I air dry them. I rarely put my HalfTees in the dryer, and they’ve held up remarkably well because of it.

The HalfTees I Reach For Most Often

If you’re new to HalfTees, I wouldn’t start with a large collection.

I’d begin with one or two neutral styles that solve your most common wardrobe challenges.

Personally, the styles I reach for most often are:

• Basic tank styles for year-round dresses and tops

• Mid-sleeve styles during spring and fall

• Mock neck and long sleeve styles during cooler months

While I’ve owned lace styles and seasonal collections over the years, the neutral basics are the ones that get worn most consistently.

Who I Think HalfTees Are Best For

After nearly 20 years of wearing them, I’d especially recommend HalfTees for:

• Women seeking pretty, modest layering options

• Women looking to extend the versatility of their wardrobe

• Women experiencing hot flashes

• Pregnant women

• Breastfeeding mothers

• Anyone who dislikes bulky camis

HalfTees aren’t a miracle product, but they are an unusually thoughtful solution to a surprisingly common problem.

Want more practical favorites?

Exclusive HalfTee Promo Code

Use code:

KRISTYLYNN20

to save 20% on your order.

I’ve partnered with HalfTee for years, and this code is only available for my readers!

HalfTee vs. Traditional Layering Camis

Over the years I’ve tried plenty of traditional camisoles and tank tops. While they work fine for some women, I keep coming back to HalfTees for one simple reason: comfort.

Traditional Camis

Pros:

• Easy to find

• Usually inexpensive

• Available almost everywhere

Cons:

• Add extra bulk around the waist and hips

• Feel hot during summer months

• Can ride up throughout the day

• Make layering feel heavier than it needs to

HalfTees

Pros:

• Provide coverage without extra fabric

• Comfortable during pregnancy and breastfeeding

• Easier to wear in warm weather

• Extend the versatility of dresses and tops

• Less bulk under clothing

Cons:

• Cost more than a basic tank top

• Serve a specific purpose rather than replacing all camis

For me, the question isn’t whether HalfTees are better than every camisole on the market. The question is whether they solve the layering problem better.

After years of wearing them, my answer is yes!

FAQ About HalfTees

What is a HalfTee?

A HalfTee is a layering garment designed to provide neckline and upper-body coverage without the extra length and bulk of a traditional camisole.

Are HalfTees worth the money?

In my experience, yes. I’ve worn many of mine for years, which makes the cost-per-wear incredibly low.

What size HalfTee should I buy?

My experience has been that HalfTees fit true to size.

I typically wear a size 6 and a 36C bra, and I order a small or medium in most HalfTee styles. If you’re between sizes, I would recommend checking the brand’s size chart and buying your usual dress size.

Over the years I’ve owned many different HalfTee styles, and sizing has generally been very consistent.

Which HalfTee style should I start with?

If you’re new to the brand, I’d recommend starting with a basic tank, cap sleeve, or mid-sleeve style.

Are HalfTees good for pregnancy and breastfeeding?

Absolutely. In fact, pregnancy is how I originally discovered the brand. I was frustrated by uncomfortable layering camis and needed something that worked during pregnancy and later while nursing. HalfTees became one of my most-worn wardrobe staples.

How long have you been wearing HalfTees?

Nearly 20 years. I’ve worn them through pregnancy, breastfeeding, motherhood, changing sizes, changing styles, and everyday life as a SAHM-turned-working-mom.

That’s exactly why I feel comfortable recommending them.

How Long Do HalfTees Last?

With proper care, years.

Mine have lasted far longer than traditional layering camis.

Do you have a HalfTee promo code?

Yes!

Use code KristyLynn20 to save 20% on your HalfTee order.

I’ve partnered with HalfTee to provide this discount for my readers, and the code can be used again and again.

Is This HalfTee Review Sponsored?

No.

I’ve been purchasing and wearing HalfTees for nearly two decades. While I may earn a commission if you shop through my links, my opinion was formed long before affiliate programs entered the picture.

The romper in this photo isn’t the only piece I rely on during warm-weather travel!

✨ Read: “The Ultimate Summer Capsule Wardrobe for Effortless, Feminine Style”

Final Thoughts on My HalfTee Review

There are very few products I’ve continued buying for years on end.

HalfTees are one of them.

Not because they’re trendy, but because they make everyday life a little easier.

As I’ve moved through different seasons of life—from pregnancy and breastfeeding to raising teenagers and working as a professional woman—I’ve found myself returning to the same practical pieces again and again.

And after nearly 20 years, that’s probably the strongest review I can give.

HalfTee Affiliate Opportunity for Creators

If you’re a blogger, influencer, or content creator, HalfTee offers a generous affiliate program.

I’ve participated in their affiliate program for years and have earned commissions recommending products I already use and love.

→Learn about becoming a HalfTee affiliate here.

Thanks for being here! Drop a comment or email [hello@kristyhowardwrites.com] with any questions or feedback about my HalfTee review. I’m always happy to chat or answer your questions.

Veritas et Gratia,
Kristy 💐

This post is for the woman still carrying invisible wounds from her dad—especially when those wounds were wrapped in Christian language, emotional silence, or religious duty.

If you’ve ever confused God’s love with human disappointment, you’re not alone. Healing is possible.

How Well Do You Know Your Father?

You might assume I’m referring to your earthly dad. I’m not.

This Father’s Day, I find myself asking again: How well do I really know my heavenly Father?

Our perception of God’s character colors everything—how we see ourselves, how we believe we’re seen by Him, and how we relate to others.

For years, I lived with a skewed view of God:

• A frowning, disapproving Father.

• Impossible to please.

• Distant. This filtered everything: my self-image, my spiritual habits, and my relationships.

When I saw God as my biggest critic, I became one too.
When I believed He was harsh, I became rigid with others.
When I imagined Him standing at a distance, arms crossed, I kept myself small, self-critical, and striving.

I used to think I needed to be perfect. So I strived. Then I failed. Then I felt guilty. Frustrated. Defeated.

And so I tried harder, convinced that if I just got it right this time, I would earn His approval.

This cycle lasted for years.

It was only when I began to see God as He really is that things began to soften and change.

The God Who Sees and Stays

Pause & Reflect:
As you read these verses, notice which ones stir something new—or tender—in you.
What kind of Father is beginning to emerge? What part of your story longs to be seen through this lens?

The Psalms gave me glimpses of God that I had somehow missed before. Not the God I feared, but the Father who:

• “…his favor lasts a lifetime.” (Psalm 30:5, NIV)

• “The Lord’s unfailing love surrounds the one who trusts in him.” (Psalm 32:10, NIV)

• “From heaven the Lord looks down and sees all mankind… he who forms the hearts of all…” (Psalm 33:13-15, NLT)

• “The eyes of the Lord are on those who fear him, on those whose hope is in his unfailing love.” (Psalm 33:18, NIV)

• “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” (Psalm 34:18, NIV)

  ---

These verses reshaped my imagination. I began to picture…

A child basking in her Father’s delight. (Psalm 30:5)

A little one, asleep and safe, surrounded by mercy. (Psalm 32:10)

A Creator who fashioned my heart, then stayed close enough to understand it. (Psalm 33:13-15)

A Father whose eyes and ears are attuned to my cries. (Psalm 34:15) 

Is this the God you know?

Is this the Father your heart instinctively sees when you think of Him?

If not, ask yourself: Why?
And then, gently, ask Him: Show me who You really are.

To the Daughter Who Is Still Healing

Sweet friend, you are not alone. That wound you carry matters. And the way you’ve tried to survive it makes sense.

But the Father you couldn’t find in your earthly dad?
He is here. And He is not indifferent.
Not impossible to please.
Not standing with arms crossed.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest… For I am gentle and humble in heart.” (Matthew 11:28-29, NIV)

“And I pray that you… may grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ…” (Ephesians 3:17-19, NIV)

Ask Him to show you. To restore what was distorted. To be the Father you always needed—and still do.

You don’t have to strive to win His approval.
You already have His attention. And His love.

If you believed that—really believed it—how would your view of God change?
How would you see yourself?
Would it soften how you see your children?
Your spouse?
Your community?

This is the journey of healing the father wound.

And it begins with the only perfect Father.

He’s not far.
He’s already watching.
Already listening.
And He’s not going anywhere.

A Blessing for Daughters

May you always know the love of your heavenly Father—
gentle, attentive, unwavering.

When human love falls short,
may you never confuse it with His.

When you question your worth,
may His voice rise louder than your doubts.

When you long for protection, may you feel His nearness.
When you ache with wounds you can’t name,
may you find healing in His gaze.

I can’t give you perfect love—but I give you this:
a path back to the One who sees you fully,
loves you endlessly,
and will never leave you halfway healed.

Veritas et Gratia,

Kristy 💐

A few days ago, I received a jury summons in the mail.

No big deal, right?

Except today was the day I was supposed to report, and when I stumbled into the kitchen before sunrise to check whether the hearing had been canceled, I couldn’t find the summons anywhere.

Not on the counter. Not in the stack of papers by the refrigerator. Not in my purse. Not in the file pile where I swore I had tucked it for safekeeping.

As I tore through every possible hiding place, I could feel my adrenaline rising.

The summons had only been in my possession for a few days, but suddenly it had vanished into thin air. And my brain immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario.

What had the postcard said again?

Something about fines? Court hearings? Maybe even jail?

I couldn’t remember the exact wording, but I was quite certain it wasn’t good.

By this point, I was frantically searching drawers and shuffling papers with the urgency of someone trying to prevent a national emergency. Finally, I burst into the bedroom where my husband was still resting.

“I’m panicking,” I announced. “I can’t find my jury summons anywhere.”

Jeremy looked at me with the wide-eyed expression of a man who was simultaneously trying to wake up and figure out why his wife was operating at DEFCON 1 before sunrise.

Before he could respond, I rushed back to continue my search.

Why Do I Always Assume Something Bad Is Going to Happen?

A few minutes later, my cell phone rang.

It was Jeremy.

“Hey,” he said calmly. “The hearing’s been canceled.”

I stopped searching.

“How do you know?”

“I Googled ‘Wise County jury summons’ and found the phone number.”

I stared at the floor.

“I hadn’t thought of that yet.”

A few minutes later, I crawled back into bed beside him to enjoy a few more minutes of cuddling before the workday started.

He wrapped an arm around me and grinned.

“I love you, my hyper girl.”

I swatted him.

“Hey, I was scared. You can’t just not show up for jury duty. And I couldn’t find the postcard. I NEVER lose stuff.”

He laughed.

Then he asked a question I haven’t stopped thinking about all day.

“What did you think was going to happen?”

I answered without really thinking.

“Something bad.”

Then I paused.

“I mean, I typically think something bad is about to happen. Like I’m always about to get in trouble.”

I laughed when I said it. But the truth landed heavily between us.

Because it was true.

Deeply true.

Painfully true.

And maybe that’s why I’ve been sitting with this little episode all day.

On the surface, it’s funny. A missing jury summons. A husband with enough common sense to use Google. A wife spiraling before sunrise.

But underneath it all, I realized something.

How Shame Shapes Our Fear of Making Mistakes

I’m 45 years old.

I’m a wife, a mom, a chaplain, and a writer. I manage a home, a family, deadlines, responsibilities, relationships, and a hundred moving parts every single week.

Objectively speaking, I’m a capable adult.

And yet, when I couldn’t find that postcard, some deeply buried part of me immediately assumed catastrophe was around the corner.

Someone was going to be angry.

Someone was going to punish me.

Someone was going to discover I’d messed up.

Somewhere beneath the woman I’ve become lives a little girl who still thinks she’s in trouble.

The older I get, the more I realize that shame has a way of disguising itself.

Sometimes it doesn’t sound like self-hatred.

Sometimes it sounds like anxiety.

Sometimes it sounds like perfectionism.

Sometimes it sounds like over-preparing, over-explaining, or overreacting.

And sometimes it sounds like a grown woman tearing apart her kitchen because she misplaced a postcard.

Shame doesn’t merely convince us that we’ve made mistakes.

It convinces us that mistakes are dangerous.

It teaches us that mistakes expose us. That mistakes reveal something defective about who we are.

When Anxiety Is Really Fear of Getting in Trouble

If you’ve spent years in critical environments, legalistic environments, unpredictable environments, or simply environments where love felt conditional, those messages can become deeply rooted.

You begin to expect consequences.

You begin to anticipate punishment.

You begin to believe that peace is fragile and disaster is always one misstep away.

Even when there is no evidence that’s true.

The reality is that losing a jury summons is not a character flaw. It’s not a moral failure. It’s not proof that I’m irresponsible. It’s certainly not grounds for a prison sentence.

It’s just a misplaced piece of paper.

But shame has a way of turning events into identities.

A healthy voice says: “I lost the postcard.”

Shame whispers: “What kind of person loses something this important?”

And once shame enters the conversation, fear is never far behind.

Learning to Unbelieve Shame-Based Stories

As I’ve reflected on all of this today, I’ve found myself asking some difficult questions.

• Where did I learn that mistakes are emergencies?

• Where did I learn that being imperfect means being unsafe?

• Where did I learn that I am always one step away from getting in trouble?

And perhaps most importantly:

• How do I begin to unbelieve those stories?

Because that’s what healing often feels like.

Not learning something new.
Unlearning something old.

You’re Not in Trouble

Maybe that’s what God has been teaching me all along.

Not just through this missing jury summons, but through years of healing from shame-shaped narratives.

The older I get, the more convinced I become that grace is not merely God’s response to our failures. Grace is also God’s invitation to stop living as though failure is always lurking around the corner—and that if it finds us, it’s the end of us.

Maybe that’s why Jesus so often led with peace.

Because fearful people don’t need more pressure. They need reassurance.

And maybe that’s what healing looks like:

Not becoming fearless or perfect. Not never losing important paperwork again.

But gently taking that frightened little girl by the hand and reminding her of what’s true: You’re not in trouble. You never were.

And you don’t have to live as though catastrophe is waiting for you anymore.

If you’re learning to trade shame-shaped narratives for grace-shaped faith and wholehearted living, I’d love to have you join me here each week.

Subscribe now

Veritas et Gratia,

Kristy 💐

I hope this Sunday afternoon email finds you rested—or at least resting—and enjoying the gifts of this season: a cold drink, a slower day, or a bit of time doing something that brings you joy.

One thing I’ve been pondering a lot is the fact that joy and shame cannot co-exist. Maybe that’s one reason our enemy works so hard to keep us carrying burdens God never asked us to bear?

If parts of your soul feel heavy today, sit with this question for a while: Is shame shaping parts of my experience right now?

If the answer might be "yes," ask God to show you where shame has taken root—and what grace might look like in that place.

📖 What I’m reading

• Don’t Burn Your Own House Down: Prioritizing Your Marriage, Your Spouse, and Yourself for a Deeper Connection
  
  This book, by Lindsey Maestas, is a must-read for anyone who is married—or hopes to be someday.

💄 What I’m loving

• Travel Makeup Kit, by Billion Dollar Beauty
  
  I never fly without this kit in my carry-on bag! (Use code KRISTYH20 for 20% off.)

🌿 What I’m learning

• Healing isn’t just about feeling better—it’s about becoming freer. The more I recognize and release shame-shaped narratives, the more room there is for joy, peace, and connection.

📬 If you missed it…

• “Parenting Without Shame”
  
  This week’s article over on Substack. Read it now, and share it with someone who needs a gentle reminder about grace.

Grateful you’re here. 🤍

Veritas et Gratia,

Kristy 💐

Every generation has its junk.

My parents lived through the Sexual Revolution of the 1970s.

I came of age during the height of the ‘90s Purity Culture.

My five kids are stepping into young adulthood and their teenage years during the Gender Revolution of the here and now.

Like I said, every generation has its junk.

And parenting through whatever junk life throws at your kids—while you’re still trying to heal from your own stuff—

Well, it’s messy.

Do it all under the watchful eye of the Evangelical Church, and sometimes it’s even messier.

Especially for a girl who grew up believing that children are an extension of their parents—and therefore a reflection of their parents’ character, competence, and even faithfulness.

I carried more of that belief than I realized.

Recently, I heard a phrase that stopped me in my tracks:

“Shame off me.”

Say what?

Shame off me.

As someone who spent years unconsciously living with a shame-on-me posture, those three words felt surprisingly hopeful.

Not because I’d never encountered the idea before.

But because someone had finally given language to something God has been quietly teaching me for years.

I haven’t always known how to live shame off me as a woman.

Or a wife.

Or a mother.

Truthfully, I didn’t know it was an option.

But along my journey of healing from legalism, I’ve begun to notice a subtle shift taking place. I’m learning to separate responsibility from shame. I’m learning that love doesn’t require control. And I’m learning that my children’s lives are not a report card on my worth.

Here are three ways I’ve slowly been practicing what I now think of as shame-off-me parenting.

1. My Kids Are Not My Reputation

Jeremy and I have five children, and they are all wildly different.

Introverts and extroverts.
Planners and seat-of-their-pants people.
Type As and Type Bs.
Strong-willed and easygoing.

And somewhere along the way, I noticed how easy it was to take other people’s opinions of my children personally.

Maybe it comes from twenty years in pastoral ministry. Maybe it comes from being an Enneagram One mom. Maybe it comes from growing up believing that “good parenting” produces predictable outcomes.

Whatever the reason, criticism aimed at one of my children often felt strangely personal.

If someone misunderstood them, I felt defensive.
If someone judged them, I felt exposed.
If someone questioned their choices, I quietly wondered what it said about me.

But healing has slowly taught me something important:

Not everyone is going to understand or appreciate my children.

And that’s okay. Their opinions are not mine to manage.

My responsibility is to love, guide, support, and influence my children. To be their biggest advocate, cheerleader, and (yes) their friend.

My responsibility is not to control how other people perceive them—or me.

Because my kids are not my reputation.

They are whole people, created in God’s image, with personalities, callings, strengths, weaknesses, and stories all their own.

2. My Kids Are Not My Project

One of the hardest parts of parenting older children is realizing that influence and control are not the same thing.

When our children are little, we make thousands of decisions for them every year.

What they eat.
Where they go.
When they sleep.
What they learn.

But as they grow, our role begins to shift.

Slowly, then all at once. We move from managing their lives to mentoring them. From directing to guiding. From controlling outcomes to nurturing relationships.

And if you’re anything like me, that shift can feel terrifying. Because love naturally wants to protect.

But shame often wants to control.

I’ve had to learn that my job is not to manufacture perfect outcomes. My job is to remain present. To tell the truth. To offer wisdom. To apologize when I’m wrong. To keep the relationship strong enough to hold hard conversations.

And then, eventually, to trust God with the parts I cannot control.

That’s not passive parenting.

It’s deeply active. It’s just rooted in grace instead of fear.

3. My Kids Are Not My Proof

For years, I unknowingly carried the belief that successful parenting would somehow validate me. That if I did enough things right, my children would become evidence that I’d been a good mother.

But life doesn’t work that way.

Children are not trophies.
They are not cautionary tales.
They are not proof of our success or failure.

They are people.

People who will make wise choices and unwise choices.
People who will grow in some areas while struggling in others.
People who will surprise us, delight us, confuse us, and sometimes break our hearts.

Just like we do.

The older my children get, the more convinced I become that parenting is less about producing a finished product and more about faithfully loving another human being through every season of their becoming.

And that kind of love requires grace. Not just for our children. But for ourselves.

Because shame tells parents that every struggle is our fault—and every win is our trophy. Grace reminds us that we are responsible for faithfulness, not outcomes.

These days, “shame off me” doesn’t mean I care less about my children. If anything, it has helped me love them better.

It means I’m slowly laying down burdens God never asked me to carry. It means releasing the illusion that I can control another person’s story. It means trusting that God’s love for my children is deeper than mine.

And it means learning to love my children as whole people—not extensions of me.

For a woman raised on shame-shaped religion, that kind of parenting feels like hard-won, sacred ground.

And perhaps that’s what healing from shame looks like.

Not becoming a perfect parent.
Just a freer one.

Veritas et Gratia,

Kristy 💐

Jeremy and I drove to the venue early that morning, with Keith following behind us in his truck. And somewhere along that quiet drive, the weight of the moment settled in.

We felt all the emotions parents do when releasing a season of childhood.

• I thanked Jeremy for all his encouragement and support during the intense years of homeschooling.

• Jeremy thanked me for dedicating my youth to raising and educating our five kids (Three down. Two more to go.)

We sat in that tender space the entire drive, reliving some of the highlights of the past eighteen years and wondering aloud how this day had come so soon.

Parenting isn’t easy. Homeschooling isn’t easy. Heck—marriage isn’t easy.
And neither of us have done it perfectly… or even well some days.

But we showed up—together.

We messed up—together.

We learned and forgave and showed up again—together.

And words fail to express how it felt standing up there beside him, handing our son his high school diploma and releasing him into a brand new chapter of life.

In a day—a moment, really—our roles shifted.

But the truth is, it’s been happening slowly for years.

In little decisions.
Subtle shifts.
Late-night conversations.
Hard seasons.
Tiny freedoms handed over one at a time.

It happened in all the ordinary days before the tassel turned.

And I think that’s what struck me most over the weekend. The milestone itself was beautiful. Emotional. Sacred, even.

But what overwhelmed me most wasn’t the ceremony. It was the thousands of unseen days that brought us there.

The packed lunches.
The read-alouds.
The financial stress.
The teenage conversations.
The exhaustion.
The prayers (and tears) after hard parenting days.
The forgiveness.
The persistence.
The ordinary Tuesdays no one applauds.

Last Saturday, Keith walked across a stage, turned a tassel, and took his place as part of the Class of 2026.

But behind that brief moment stood thousands of days spent loving, building, correcting, teaching, carrying, providing, sacrificing, and beginning again.

And honestly, I think that’s true of most meaningful things in life.

Strong marriages are built in the invisible days.
Healthy families are shaped in the ordinary days.
Healing happens in the hidden and hard days.
Faith grows in the returning and the remaining and the showing up again.

Not usually in one dramatic moment.
But slowly.
Quietly.
Over time.
Over thousands of forgotten days.

What an honor it has been to do this alongside a man willing to grow and give beside me.

It was Keith’s moment, in every way.

But on that quiet morning ride—and in the silent hand squeezes and knowing glances across stages and rooms that day—Jeremy and I both knew it was our moment, too.

One moment in a shared pursuit of love and life.

👨‍🎓 Hats off to every graduate.

And to every parent still faithfully loving your children through all the happy, heavy, and hard in-between days…

Keep showing up. With grace and grit, as needed.

It’s worth it.

Veritas et Gratia,
Kristy 💐

And in just a few weeks, we’ll be celebrating another senior—our oldest son. 🎓

My handsome high school grad.

Lately, I’ve found myself mentally moving from one thing to the next, checking off a box and immediately tackling another.

And did I mention I got my first driving ticket a few weeks ago? (Yes… at 45.) So now I’m spending some of my free time in defensive driving courses. 😅

This time of year is always a busy stretch as a full-time working, part-time homeschooling mom. I’m not trying to win any awards for being the busiest, but sometimes it does feel like I’m punching a time clock—coming and going.

But this year feels a little softer.

For the 45th time welcoming the beautiful, busy month of May, I’m learning—slowly—to stay present. To lean into the moments. To notice what I’m feeling, what I’m looking forward to, what I’m actually enjoying…

Not just what I’m doing (or what I need to do next).

And in the middle of all of it, here’s what’s been bringing me joy lately…

📖 What I’m reading

• “It Rained the Day He Left”
  A heartfelt Substack post written by my friend Kris. If you’ve ever wondered what it feels like to release your child into military service… 🇺🇸

✨ What I’m loving

• Shimmer Eyeshadow Trio
  These silky eyeshadow sticks glide on easily and are travel-friendly and water-resistant. I’m always up for a bit of shimmer.

🌿 What I’m learning

• I’m learning to give myself permission to enjoy the good, simple things—rest, food, comfort, being loved, and loving in return… and to release what keeps me anxious and stuck.

📬 If you missed it . . .

• “A Gentle Reminder That God is Kind”

  A short, devotional read to remind you: God is not distant. And He is not disappointed in you. Read now.

Have a beautiful weekend, sweet friend! And happy May.

Veritas et Gratia,
Kristy 💐

If you’re like me, you may be stepping into a new season—new routines, new responsibilities, maybe even new roles.

Or maybe you're in a season that hasn’t changed in a long time—and you’re starting to wonder if it ever will.

Wherever this finds you today, may it serve as a soft, soul-level reminder:

God is kind.

Not just in theory. Not just when you’re at your best. But always—especially when you’re tired, stuck, grieving, or starting over.

In legalistic or shame-shaped systems, we often internalize the idea that God is distant or disappointed.

But the God of Scripture—the One who knows you fully and loves you anyway—is rich in kindness.

Let these words wash over you:

"But—When God our Savior revealed His kindness and love, He saved us, not because of the righteous things we had done, but because of His mercy..."
— Titus 3:4-5 (NLT)

"How priceless your faithful love is, God! People take refuge in the shadow of your wings."
— Psalm 36:7 (CSB)

"Do you presume on the riches of his kindness and forbearance and patience, not knowing that God's kindness is meant to lead you to repentance?"
— Romans 2:4 (ESV)

"Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed,” says the Lord, who has compassion on you."
— Isaiah 54:10 (NIV)

"As high as heaven is over the earth, so strong is his love to those who fear him."
— Psalm 103:11 (The Message)

Let this be the week you pause—not to strive harder, but to soak in the mercy of a Father who doesn’t rush us through healing, who doesn't demand perfection, and who never withholds compassion.

You are loved.

Veritas et Gratia,
Kristy 💐

Even now, that sentence feels surreal to write.

I’m not sure what I expected to feel in the weeks leading up to this moment—
excitement, maybe.

Gratitude.
Anticipation.

But not this.

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I didn’t expect to relive some of the hardest parts of my story:

• Anxiety.

• Insecurity.

• Fear that kept me awake at 2 a.m., staring at the ceiling and questioning everything.

God chose this season—of all seasons—to dig His spade of Truth deep into the soil of my soul. And not gently.

👉 I wrote about it earlier this week in It Wasn’t the Roses That Were Failing.

I’m no stranger to imposter syndrome, but the struggle has been deeply real lately.

When Old Wounds Reopen

I told God something I didn’t even realize I’d been holding onto:

I wouldn’t have dreamed of joining a writing team—of sharing my story so honestly—if I had known I’d be reliving parts of it again more than a decade later.

I thought I was writing from a place of healing . . . only to feel the gut punch of one of my deepest wounds reopening almost overnight—just days after I submitted my final manuscript.

For weeks, I wrestled with that tension.

Until God gently interrupted my spiral with a simple reminder:

“You’ll always be living your story of healing, Kristy. That’s what will speak to others who are still living theirs.”

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Showing Up Anyway

So this weekend, I’m packing my bags and heading to the Hope Bookstore in North Carolina to launch Hope in the Waiting with nine other incredible women.

And I’m not showing up as someone who has it all figured out.

I’m showing up as a woman still in the middle of it—still growing, still healing, still learning what it actually looks like to find hope in the messy, in-between seasons.

An Invitation to Be Part of the Story

Maybe you’ll find it a little ironic that my chapter is titled “Grace for the Slow Healer.”

Because that’s the grace I love to write about . . . and the one I so often forget to live.

I used to think I needed to be “fully healed” to share my story.

Now I see—this is the story.

If you’re in a season of waiting, wrestling, or wondering if God is still at work, this book is for you.

Hope in the Waiting officially launches Tuesday, April 21, but it’s available now on Amazon.

If you’d like to support this launch in a simple but meaningful way,
you can share about the book on social media on launch day—April 21. It truly makes a difference.

And if you’d like to read it for yourself, I would be so honored for you to grab a copy.

What Early Readers Are Saying

Thank you for being part of this journey with me.

I’m so grateful for you!

Veritas et Gratia,
Kristy 💐

I’m a wife and mom, chaplain and copywriter.

I write for Christian women who are learning to love Jesus without performing for Him—and to live from grace instead of striving.

If you’re in an in-between season, you’ll feel at home here.

I share reflections regularly here and daily over on Instagram and Facebook.

Subscribe now

What I Write About

I write about grace-shaped faith and wholehearted femininity—and the messy in-between… what it looks like to follow Jesus without performing and become whole along the way.

A Little More About Me

I’m a lifelong evangelical from a long line of vocational ministers—shaped by both the beauty and the bruising of church life.

Along the way, I’ve walked through depression, anxiety, ministry wounds, and deep healing. ❤️‍🩹

Today, I live with my husband Jeremy in a 1920s farmhouse in North Texas, where we homeschool our kids, serve as hospice chaplains, and hold onto slow evenings, walks, and date nights.

My writing has been featured at places like (in)courage, NEWIM, inside the inboxes of women just like you—and mostly recently in the devotional Hope in the Waiting. (eek!)

Start Here

If you’re new, these are a few pieces readers come back to:

• How to Manage Emotional Triggers

• 7 Lies Christian Women Believe Because of Church Legalism

• Rest Was Never Meant to Be the Last Thing

• Healing from Legalism: The Testimony They Didn’t Want to Hear

Let’s Stay Connected

I send a weekly Weekend Reads email—sharing what I’m reading, loving, and learning, along with reflections for the in-between seasons of life.

Subscribe to receive these in your inbox, plus new posts—and I’ll send you The Grace Reset as a thank-you.

You can also find me:

• Instagram & Facebook: @KristyHowardWrites

• A private FB group: The Honest Pastor’s Wife (for women in ministry)

Drop me a comment and introduce yourself—I’m so glad you’re here!

Veritas et gratia,

Kristy 💐

But I’ll start there.

Jeremy and I have been trying to grow roses in our flower beds for years.

And for years, nothing grew. We watered. We fertilized. We replanted more than once. And every time, the same result: brittle stems, shrinking leaves, and eventually, nothing.

For a long time, I assumed we just weren’t doing enough. More water. Better fertilizer. Try again.

But last spring, I did something I’d never done before. I tested the soil.

And just like that, everything made sense.

The pH in our North Texas dirt was completely off. For years, this same soil had produced healthy, beautiful plants with very little effort from us.

But somewhere along the way, something shifted without us realizing it. What had once supported growth was now working against it.

The Invisible Work

So we stopped trying to grow anything. That part was harder than I expected!

Instead, we focused on the soil. We didn’t tear everything up or start over from scratch. We just began the slow, unremarkable work of restoring what couldn’t be seen: adjusting, testing, waiting.

Month after month, nothing changed—at least not where we could see it. Eventually, Jeremy dug up the last of the dying rose bushes. And for a while, our flower beds looked like a failure. Empty, unproductive, completely dead.

But underneath the surface, something was shifting.

A few weeks ago, Jeremy tested the soil again. “The pH is perfect,” he said, smiling.

So we tried again. And this time, the roses took off.

Every morning, we wake up to new growth. Soft green leaves reaching upward. Clusters of frilly, magenta blooms opening in the early spring light.

It looks like it happened overnight.

It didn’t.

The Turning

Like I said, this story isn’t about roses.

Lately, I’ve felt something similar happening in my own life. Like God has been turning over the soil in my heart.

Not gently.

More like a spade cutting deep—exposing things I didn’t realize had been there for years.

Soil that had been neglected.
Under-nourished.
Quietly poisoning the very growth I had been praying for.

The Realization

I’ve spent a lot of my life trying harder. Trying to be better. To fix things. To grow things.

And when things didn’t change, I assumed the problem was me not doing enough. Not being enough. Not trying hard enough.

But what if the problem wasn’t effort?

What if the soil was off?

There are parts of my life I’ve quietly given up on before. Not all at once—but slowly, over time. Because nothing seemed to grow there.

And yet, even in seasons that feel still, Scripture reminds us: “I am about to do something new. See, I have already begun! Do you not see it?” (Isaiah 43:19).

Not always visible and not always immediate. But already in motion.

The Truth

Growth doesn’t start where you think it does.

It doesn’t start with effort. Or discipline. Or trying harder. (Read that line again!)

It starts beneath the surface.

And if the soil is wrong, no amount of effort will make something thrive.

But when the soil is right, growth comes naturally. Steadily. Inevitably.

So if something in your life isn’t growing, maybe it’s not because you’re failing. Maybe it’s because God is doing something deeper first.

Maybe He’s restoring the soil.

If You’re in a Season Like This

Sometimes the hardest part of these seasons is that they don’t look like progress.
They feel quiet, invisible, even discouraging.

I’ve learned that these are often the seasons where God is doing something I can’t yet see.

Here are a few clues that you might be in one too:

• You’re putting in effort, but seeing little to no visible results

• Things feel stripped back, quieter, or even regressing

• Old beliefs, wounds, or patterns are being exposed

• You feel stretched internally more than you see change externally

• God feels present, but He’s not producing the outcomes you expected

These are not signs that something is wrong.
They may be signs that something deep is being restored.

What This Season Might Be Asking of You

So what do you do when you find yourself here?

Not everything in you needs to strive. Some things need to be surrendered.

• Ask God: What in me are You restoring right now?

• Stop trying to force visible growth and pay attention to what’s shifting beneath the surface

• Stay consistent in small, faithful steps, even when nothing looks different yet

• Trust that unseen work is still real work

Bottom line: When you find yourself in a season where nothing seems to be growing, don’t be too quick to call it failure.

God may be working in ways you can’t yet see.
Breaking up what has hardened.
Restoring what has been depleted.

Because He doesn’t just grow things. He prepares the ground they grow in so the growth can last.

And when He’s finished, what once felt impossible will begin to bloom. 🙌🏻

Veritas et Gratia,
Kristy 💐

P.S. This season of “waiting” and unseen growth is something I’ve been sitting with deeply. I recently wrote a chapter on it in an upcoming devotional, Hope in the Waiting. I’ll be sharing more soon—including an opportunity to join the launch team. I’d love for you to be part of it. 📖

Have you ever known for sure you were supposed to do something, and you just didn’t do it?

It might have even felt like you couldn’t do it, for reasons you couldn’t name.

That happened to me when I was in my early 20s.

I remember sitting in a hospital lobby in East Texas, and looking across the room to see a woman on a pay phone. She was weeping, and something inside my heart knew I was supposed to get up, walk across the room, and ask if I could help her.

Instead of getting up, I sat frozen in my seat. It was like I could not get up.

Looking back, there were a million reasons why I didn’t get up, but it was mainly fear. It was a disbelief about who I was, what I was called to do, what I was capable of doing.

I remember watching her walk out of that lobby, thinking, I know I was supposed to get up and talk to her.

I’ve thought about this day with regret for many years.

Fast Forward 20-Something Years

I am a hospice chaplain.

A few weeks ago, I was in a facility visiting patients and I saw a woman coming down the hall weeping.

This time, without even stopping to think, I felt myself moving toward her.

I held out my hands toward her and said, “Ma’am, I’m a chaplain. I see that you’re crying, can I help?”

Through her tears, she told me that her sister was dying and asked me to go and pray with her. I walked to the room, met several other sisters, and spent some time praying with and just being with this family.

Honestly, it felt like a normal day in the life of a hospice chaplain.

But later in the day, the memory of younger me in that hospital lobby came to my mind. God gently reminded me of how much I’ve changed.

This time, I wasn’t frozen; thinking; ruminating; self doubting. I just moved forward toward a need, and let God take care of the details.

I can tell you today that living out my calling is so freeing. It is meaningful. And as I pondered this, I had to lift my voice in a prayer of gratitude: Thank you God for changing me!

I’m so grateful He didn’t leave me in that stuck space—that place of fear that kept me from doing what I was created to do for many years.

Living Bold and Free

This morning in my team devotion, I shared this story along with a Scripture:

These words took on a whole new meaning for me this morning as I thought about where I’ve been, where I’m at, and what I feel like God is calling me to in this season.

This is your Grace Note for today:
You are called to live free and bold before God.
You can silence debilitating self criticism.

Sometime today, look up I John 3:18- 21 in The Message translation, and sit with it for just a bit. If you want to take it a step further, grab your journal and ask yourself:

• Where is God calling you to live more bold and free?

• Are you allowing His grace-full truth to shut down debilitating self-criticism?
  

Hit reply and let me know your thoughts.

Veritas et gratia,
Kristy 💐

P.S. This post is transcribed from my YouTube post. Watch that video here (and subscribe!)

This morning, I’m writing from my dining room table, fogged windows framing a grey, wintry world outside. I’m wrapped in a blanket, laptop open, getting the final edits in on my chapter for the Hope*Writers collaborative book. It’s due for submission in just a few days.

Last week, I asked if you’d read an early draft. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what to expect. But the outpouring of encouragement and thoughtful reflections you sent in?

It undid me, in the best way.

Here’s just a glimpse of what some of you shared:

“I love how you were very real and vulnerable about your struggles. I think that will really speak to women who are battling anxiety.”

“Thank you for being so vulnerable and willing to share this. I found that it really resonated with me.”

“It is very relatable! Again, thank you for your bravery and honesty.”

“Thank you so much, you’re brave to be that honest.”

“I wept as I read.”

“I could totally relate. What a sense of relief.”

“There were several moments of, ‘Me too!’ It felt good to have my own issues acknowledged, and then followed up with encouragement and backed up by God’s word.”

Your words reminded me of something I’ve been holding in my heart lately: “Heal out loud so that others don’t have to suffer in silence.” Maybe that’s part of my calling as a writer.

I even wrote a prayer for the woman who has suffered in silence. If you missed it on the blog this week, you can read it here:
👉 A Prayer for the Christian Woman Who Has Suffered in Silence

Thank you again for reading, for responding, and for walking this journey with me. I’ve got a list of lovely friends to reply to by email, and I’m soaking in every word as I finish up these edits this weekend.

If you’re iced or snowed in like we are, I hope you stay warm and safe.

With so much gratitude,
Kristy 💐

Dear Heavenly Father,

Today I’m praying for my sister who has suffered in silence.

She knows she’s blessed, so she daily dismisses her own pain.

Looking on, everything seems okay.
No one would know.
And they don’t know.

About today’s anxiety.
Yesterday’s grief.
Last year’s guilt.
Tomorrow’s fears.

Sometimes, even she questions her own experience.
Gaslights herself.
And some days, it’s easier to cope that way.

But the silence is quietly killing her.
Because invisible pain can still be fatal.
Like an emotional cancer no one knows about or talks about or does anything about.

Silently, it eats away everything that’s good and beautiful and life-giving inside of her.

Today, I pray for her to have the courage to say it out loud.
Write it down.
Look herself in the mirror and state the truth.

I pray for an advocate to interrupt the silence.
If she can’t find her voice, let someone else’s voice speak to her and for her.

Give her courage to not shy away when you pull back the curtain and reveal the pain. Let her meet it, face-to-face and eye-to-eye—knowing You’ve got her back.

Provide a soft place to land in the breaking.
Send loving hands and grace-shaped tools for the remaking.

Remind her that You “will compensate you for the years that the swarming locust has eaten” (Joel 2:24, ESV) and that You’re “doing a new thing” (Isaiah 43:9, ESV).

Center her heart in Your truth.
Bathe her tired mind with your renewing grace.

Don’t let my sister forget that You are the God who urged Your people to,

Assure her that’s she so much stronger than she thinks.
And that when her strength fails, You will keep showing up.

Help her to imagine new beginnings.
Live out new habits.
Believe new narratives.

Let past failures meet with present favor.
Let’s hear the sound of laughter in the halls of her home and heart again.
It’s time for super-natural hope to greet earthly grief.

God of Angel Armies, remind her that the ultimate battle is already won.
And that means she will win this war, too.

I pray this in the mighty name of Jesus Christ, our Savior—
Amen.

As a reader of Friday Reads, you’re part of the heartbeat behind my writing.

This week, I’m excited (and a bit nervous) to share something deeply personal—a first draft of a chapter I’ve written for a new collaborative book with Hope*Books.

Before I send it to the editing team at the end of the month, I’d love your honest feedback.

If you’re up for reading the chapter and sharing a few thoughts, just hit reply and say, “I’m in.” I’ll send it your way.

I’m hoping to gather feedback by next Friday (Jan. 23), so there’s a short window—but even a few quick reactions would mean so much.

Thanks for being here with me! I can’t wait to hear from you.

With gratitude,
Kristy 💐

For years, I carried guilt like the heavy burden in Pilgrim’s Progress, convinced it was evidence of spiritual devotion.

But the truth is more nuanced, and a lot more freeing.

Guilt is a human emotion. And like all emotions, it can be misunderstood, misused, or manipulated.

5 Myths I Believed About Guilt

Here are some common myths Christians can believe about guilt, and what Scripture actually says about each one.

Myth #1: “Guilt means I did something bad.”

⤷ Truth: Guilt is a human emotion, but not necessarily a spiritual warning.

Yes, sometimes guilt is our conscience signaling something we’ve done wrong. But not every guilt we feel comes from actual sin.

Sometimes we feel guilty because we’ve been conditioned to believe the wrong thing about ourselves, our roles, or our faith.

The Bible describes conscience as part of our human makeup:

“God’s law is not something alien, imposed on us from without, but woven into the very fabric of our creation. There is something deep within [us] that echoes God’s yes and no, right and wrong.” — Romans 2:15 (The Message)

But that same conscience can also misfire when shaped by shame, not truth.

So if you feel guilty and can’t identify an actual wrongdoing, that guilt may be a shadow of something deeper, not a signal from God.

For a long time, I also believed guilt was one of God’s tools, and that He used it to keep me on the right path.

But is that really how a loving Father leads His children?

Myth #2: “God uses guilt to make me do better.”

⤷ Truth: God’s kindness brings us to repentance, not guilt.

Guilt can certainly motivate, but not in a life-giving way.

True transformation comes not through fear or self-loathing, but through the love and kindness of God that draws our heart back to Him.

“So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves. Instead, you received God’s Spirit when he adopted you as his own children.”
— Romans 8:15 (NLT)

And in The Message translation, Paul writes:

“There is no room in love for fear. Well-formed love banishes fear. Since fear is crippling, a fearful life—fear of death, fear of judgment—is one not yet fully formed in love.”
— I John 4:18 (The Message)

God doesn’t use guilt to make you obey.

He calls you into relationship, and from that place of love, your heart wants to follow Him.

But what about when guilt feels like a spiritual attack? Is that the enemy... or something else?

Myth #3: “The devil makes me feel guilty.”

⤷ Truth: Satan uses condemnation as a weapon, but guilt itself comes from our fallen human nature.

Let’s be clear: the enemy doesn’t have authority over your conscience in the same way God does.

But condemnation—that heavy, persistent voice that says you’re unworthy or beyond grace—is absolutely a tactic of the enemy.

“But now there is no condemnation for those who belong to Christ Jesus. And because you belong to him, the power of the life-giving Spirit has freed you from the power of sin that leads to death.” — Romans 8:1-2 (NLT)

I love the way The Message translation verbalizes this Truth:

“With the arrival of Jesus, the Messiah, that fateful dilemma is resolved. Those who enter into Christ’s being-here-for-us no longer have to live under a continuous, low-lying black cloud. A new power is in operation. The Spirit of life in Christ, like a strong wind, has magnificently cleared the air, freeing you from a fated lifetime of brutal tyranny at the hands of sin and death.” — Romans 8:1-2 (The Message)

Condemnation is a spiritual attack—a heavy, persistent voice that says you’re unworthy or beyond grace. That’s not your conscience; that’s the enemy trying to steal your identity in Christ.

Guilt, on the other hand, is a human emotional response—sometimes rooted in conscience and truth, sometimes distorted by shame.

And sometimes, it’s not the enemy or even your own sin that weighs you down with guilt. It’s the culture or community you’ve been part of, especially religion.

Myth #4: “The church makes me feel guilty.”

⤷ Truth: Shame-shaped religious narratives use guilt, but guilt itself is not God’s design.

This one hits close to home for so many of us—especially women who’ve carried shame-shaped condemnation because of church legalism.

Religious guilt says:

• You’re not spiritual enough.

• You should be doing more.

• If you knew better, you’d behave better.

But the Bible tells a different story:

“Don’t you see how wonderfully kind, tolerant, and patient God is with you? Does this mean nothing to you? Can’t you see that his kindness is intended to turn you from your sin?” — Romans 2:4 (NLT)

Kindness, not guilt, is the catalyst for genuine repentance and transformation.

So while the church (and people in the church) can use guilt, that doesn’t make guilt holy or God‑given.

After a while, it’s easy to start thinking all guilt is bad, especially if you’ve been burned by false guilt or shame.

But let’s not forget: not all guilt is unhealthy.

Myth #5: “All guilt is bad.”

⤷ Truth: Not all guilt is unhealthy. There is such a thing as healthy guilt.

Hear me out: guilt isn’t inherently evil. It’s an emotion. Sometimes it’s a God‑given conscience response when we violate a moral law or hurt someone we love.

Healthy guilt says:

• I did something wrong.

• I need to reconcile.

• I need to make it right.

This is normal and part of spiritual and emotional maturity.

But when guilt sticks around long after repentance, or emerges without real wrongdoing, that’s no longer holy conviction. It’s shame.

Also read: “What’s the Difference Between Healthy and Unhealthy Guilt?” (Psychology Today)

Healthy guilt is action-oriented and leads you back into relationship (with God and others).
Unhealthy guilt keeps you “stuck” ruminating, hiding, and isolating (from God and others).

If guilt has confused you, exhausted you, or made you question your worth, you’re not alone. But you’re not stuck, either.

So What Do We Do With Guilt?

Here’s how I’ve learned to think about guilt in light of grace, not shame.

We don’t dismiss it.
We don’t demonize every uncomfortable feeling.
We don’t let shame narrate our identity.

Instead, we learn to:

• Discern whether the guilt reflects actual wrongdoing or false narratives.

• Bring it to Jesus, who doesn’t condemn but heals (John 8:11).

• Recognize when guilt is a useful signal of conscience, and when it’s just a voice rehearsing old shame.

You don’t have to be afraid of guilt. And as a believer, you don’t have to let it destroy your peace or confidence.

A Prayer

Dear Lord, help me recognize when my guilt is a reminder to turn back to You, and when it’s a lie I need to reject. Give me wisdom to hear Your voice over every other narrative in my mind. Help me understand Your heart of grace toward me.

In Jesus’s name I pray,
Amen.

I only knew I was tired:

Tired of asking permission to be a person.

Tired of trying to make everyone happy.

Tired of ignoring my God-given intuition because “obedience” mattered more than anything else.

I didn’t know to call it spiritual codependency.

Or enmeshment. Or loss of agency.

I just knew something didn’t feel right.

Read also: “What is Church Legalism? And How Do I Know If I’ve Been Living Under it?”

When Obedience Looks Like Disappearing

I had been a good girl in a good church. I’d studied the Bible, memorized verses, volunteered, and showed up with a smile—even when I was breaking inside.

But somewhere along the way, I’d confused “being a good Christian” with becoming invisible.

I thought I was being faithful by denying myself.

But the truth was, I’d never really developed a healthy, Spirit-formed sense of self to deny.

Immaturity Isn’t Your Identity

I remember years ago, reading something by Sally Clarkson that stopped me in my tracks.

She said many Christians are told to “deny yourself,” but no one ever helped them develop a self in the first place.

And that’s not maturity. It’s dysfunction disguised as discipleship.

Also read: “7 Lies Women Believe Because of Church Legalism”

The apostle Paul spoke to this when he wrote:

]I get it now.

Denying yourself is mature when it flows from a place of identity; when you know who you are in Christ, and your obedience is rooted in love—not fear.

But when you live without identity, without agency, without healthy boundaries or personhood—what you call “discipleship” might just be spiritual immaturity wrapped in people-pleasing.

I don’t say that to shame us. I say it because I lived it.

But thank God, there’s a way forward.

I spent years doing the “right things” but felt emotionally stuck and spiritually burned out.

If you feel like that’s you too, there are three small steps you can take toward self-leadership today.

Three Gentle Steps Toward Self-Leadership

1. Start noticing. Pay attention to what drains your energy or causes internal tension. These are cues from your body and spirit that something’s out of alignment. Before you try to “fix it,” get curious about it.

2. Practice agency. Begin making small decisions that honor both your faith and your personhood. Whether it’s saying no to a church obligation or taking a walk instead of answering your phone, you’re allowed to choose from a place of wisdom and freedom.

3. Nurture your inner life. Read books that challenge you to grow in grace. Take walks. Pray honestly. Journal. Build inner strength through spiritual and emotional rhythms that ground you.

You’re Safe to Grow

You’re safe to grow, my friend. God delights in every small, faithful step you take toward Him.

If you need a gentle tool to help you get started, I created something for you:

✨ “The Grace Reset”—a reflective tool to help you begin leading yourself from a place of grace-shaped identity rather than guilt.

(You’ll receive it for FREE when you subscribe, plus you’ll get weekly Grace Notes delivered to your inbox.)

We’re not meant to walk this road alone.

I’m honored to walk beside you, one grace-filled step at a time.

Thank you for being here.

Veritas et gratia,
Kristy 💐

I don’t know where—or who—I’d be if not for good books.

By “good books,” I don’t mean stories penned by Dickens and Tolkein and Alcott and Austen—although those are definitely among my favorite authors.

But I mean the writers who show up as flawed, vulnerable, very”human” humans and bravely show us the way forward as fellow strugglers.

The mentors who don’t pretend to have it all together.

The broken who use their pain to help us heal.

The sinners whose words weave sonnets of grace that land on our souls like a salve.

When I open a page and feel seen, loved, and called to a better way—I know I’ve found a “good book.”

What I Thought Was Truth—Wasn’t

I entered adulthood (more than two decades ago) carrying a lot of “shoulds” and “dos.”

I wasn’t unraveling (yet!), but there were voices in my head.
Voices that I misunderstood to be Truth.
Voices completely devoid of grace.

Over the years, I’ve slowly laid down the heaviness of church legalism and embraced the “easy” and “light” yoke that Jesus offers (Matthew 11:28-30).

But I didn’t outgrow sinful, spiritually elite mindsets by myself.
And for a long time, I didn’t outgrow them inside a faith community—because nearly everyone I was close to had the same mindsets that I did.

I grew and healed and learned better by reading good books.

Books written by Jesus-loving strugglers who had learned to trade religious guilt for extravagant grace.

Why Good Books Help When Faith Feels Heavy

If you are walking into this season with inner heaviness that you can’t name, and definitely can’t shed—become friends with good books.

Stop ruminating.
Stop ignoring.
Stop running from guilt and start running toward grace.

Yes, you will likely have to turn around and face the music in order to silence it.
Yes, you will have to acknowledge the pain before it begins to heal.
Yes, you will have to figure out where the voices of guilt came from so you can replace them with Truth.

Good books—written by Jesus-lovers who understand this grace-shaped Gospel—can help guide you forward.

Start Here: Let a Good Book Guide You

If you need a few recommendations, check out my “10 Books to Read This Year (for Grace, Growth, and Boundaries)” post.

These are the books on my reading (or re-reading) list for 2026.

I could also call this list “10 Books to Read This Year (to Heal from Guilt, Control, and Co-dependency). Because that’s pretty much the opposite of grace, growth, and healthy boundaries.

And that—guilt, control, and co-dependency— was where I was at in my 20s when I first started reaching for “good books.”

Mercifully, I found them. And I haven’t stopped reading.

Tell Me Yours: What Book Shifted Your Faith?

What about you?

Have you ever encountered a book that shifted your faith paradigm in a meaningful way?

What “good books” help you live more fully as a confident, healthy Christian woman (or gentlemen, if you’re a guy)?

Hit reply or drop me a comment… I’d love to hear.

10 Books to Read This Year: 2026 Edition

Whether you’re navigating ministry, motherhood, emotional recovery, or personal growth—I’m sharing this list with you in mind.

I’d love to know if you’re reading (or re-reading) any of these books this year, too.

1. Start with Your People – Brian Dixon

I’m reading Start with Your People, by Brian Dixon, to re-center how I show up in my relationships—at home, work, and in our faith community.

2. Never Go Back – Dr. Henry Cloud

I chose Never Go Back because I’ve outgrown some patterns, but I need language and structure to keep moving forward. (I read a lot by Dr. Cloud, as you’ll see in this list.)

3. It’s Not You – Dr. Ramani Durvasula

It’s Not You is on my list this year because I need more clarity around emotional patterns I’ve experienced but realized I haven’t fully unpacked. (Listen to this podcast with Mel Robbins to learn more about the author and the book.)

4. Your Desired Future – Dr. Henry Cloud

This one by Dr. Cloud feels like the right book for this season. I want to set intentional direction for where I’m going, not just react to what’s happened. (Pre-order Your Desired Future now for the May book release.)

5. A Love Worth Giving: Living in the Overflow of God’s Love – Max Lucado

My husband started reading this book recently and I found myself picking it up, too. A Love Worth Giving is a definite must-read if you struggle with feeling like you have to earn God’s love.

6. Well Lived: Shaping a Legacy of Gratitude and Grace – Sally Clarkson

I’m looking forward to reading Sally’s newest book, Well Lived: Shaping a Legacy of Gratitude and Grace. Sally’s message speaks directly to my desire as a Christian woman.

7. The Let Them Theory – Mel Robbins (re-read)

This was one of my top reads in 2025. The Let Them Theory is a liberating mindset shift and major reset for emotional freedom. I can’t wait to dive in again!

8. To Know Him – Dr. Henry Cloud (currently reading)

I just started this 90-day devotional, To Know Him, and am getting so much out of it already. I have a feeling I’ll read this more than once over the next 12 months.

9. Boundaries in Marriage – Dr. Henry Cloud (re-read)

Jeremy and I have been through a lot the past few years, and this book feels like a timely read for 2026. Check out Boundaries in Marriage on Amazon.

10. Boundaries with Teens – Dr. Henry Cloud (re-read)

This book gave me language and structure for when parenting feels hard. I’m still raising three teens (soon to be four), and I’m coming back to Boundaries with Teens this year.

Ready to read together?

I’ll be sharing reflections and real-time takeaways throughout the year, so make sure you’re subscribed to weekly emails and following on Instagram and Facebook!

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If one of these books stands out to you—or if you’re craving a year that’s lighter on guilt and heavier on grace—I’d love to hear from you.

Drop a comment, hit reply, or just bookmark this post. We don’t have to grow alone!

Veritas et gratia,
Kristy 💐

Merry Christmas, friend.

As this year comes to a close, I’ve found myself reflecting—on the joy, the stretching, and the quiet formation that happens over time.

This year marked 23 years of marriage for Jeremy and me, and just as many years serving together in vocational ministry. We celebrated weddings and graduations, welcomed our first grandchild, and continued a life shaped by faith, family, and calling.

A lifetime in the American evangelical church brings both beauty and bruising. It offers purpose and community—and it also asks something of us. Eventually, we all face the choice between bitterness and growth.

In recent years, I’ve sensed a deep shift taking place. People are naming things they once buried. Women are disentangling fear from faith and choosing honesty over performance.

It’s uncomfortable for some, but to me, it feels like a necessary kind of revival.

My own path has been marked by legalism, people-pleasing, trauma, and healing. And it’s why I write what I write now—to help Christian women silence shame-shaped religious narratives so they can love, live, and lead from grace rather than guilt.

Thank you for being here. Your presence truly matters to me.

As the year turns, I’ll continue writing about faith without fear, leadership without shame, and the grace that meets us in real life—right where we are.

Merry Christmas!
Here’s to another grace-shaped year.

Veritas et gratia,
Kristy 💐