About Me


 The greatest thing we can do is to show up for our lives and not be ashamed.

 -Anne Lamott


I'm a creature of the word, learning to tell my honest story.

I offer it here because telling stories is the road back home.

Motherhood is not a biological designation
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I like how Anne Lamott says everything, but especially this:

"If I were going to begin practicing the presence of God for the first time today, it would help to begin by admitting the three most terrible truths of our existence: that we are so ruined, and so loved, and in charge of so little."

Through a decent amount of wild circumstances, I've embraced my ruination.

Which has proved to be the beginning of everything.


The way I see it, it's just a matter of time before your idea of your life comes crashing down.

When it does, when life's events align like falling dominoes to bring you to your knees, smack off your blinders, and disassemble your carefully crafted view of the world and yourself, you have two options:

1. Get up off your knees, put the blinders back on, reassemble the pieces back into the construct you’ve created, and continue the sleep-walking climb up the ladder to nowhere.

2. Choose to sit there. Force your eyes to stay open, fight to stay awake, look at all the rubble, and breathe.  This is the beginning of your real life. This is your soul knocking, and it's up to you to answer.

Historically, I've done a great job choosing Option 1.  


Until a day seven years ago when my idea of my marriage fell apart, along with my ideas of everything else: God, self, community, motherhood, purpose.

Somehow, by grace, by sheer grit, I chose to sit and stare at the rubble.  I did not try to reassemble the pieces.

I answered my soul's knock. 

My construct of self deconstructed into one remaining truth: you can only become who you are by unbecoming who you think you are.  

So I quit all my jobs.  

I got a therapist. I got a life coach.

I discovered the work of Brene Brown, Thomas Keating, Frederick Buechner, and Richard Rohr.

I found a community of women pursuing the same work of self-discovery and God-discovery. 

I pressed in to the scariest, most intimate relationships of my life.  


After a year of embracing all the deconstruction,

my husband and I decided we couldn't rebuild in the same place where we had broken apart.  

So we packed up our vanagon and road-tripped across the country for two months,

looking for a place we could call home.


We found Fort Collins, Colorado that summer, but it took two more years to move-

nomadic years where we house sat for neighbors,

lived in a double-wide trailer,

and lived in 400 square feet of storage space in an office building for a couple months between homes.  


It was during this time that I founded V-Day,

a multi-generational gathering of women pursuing the work of self-discovery and God-discovery

through vulnerable roundtable sharing, collage journaling, and active listening,

the precursor to Arkitekt. 


Then my house burnt down when I was 39 weeks pregnant with my 4th child,

and my dog died in the fire,

and my family had to move four more times culminating with our move to Fort Collins.

(I wish I could end that sentence with JK, because it seems kind of crazy, but it's true). 

I knew no one in Fort Collins, and I hit a deep depression as all the compounded trauma and intensity of the last few years finally caught up with me.


Six months later, I led the first Colorado V-Day.

It was like a coming out party, a declaration that I would choose hope in the face of hopelessness, and rebuild again; V-Day continued every month through the rest of 2013.


Currently, Arkitekt represents nine gatherings, sixteen facilitators, and over 100 women across Fort Collins.

This whole unbecoming journey has come at a high cost.  

I'm so often tempted to put the blinders back on and proceed to sleep walk through life; it would be easier not to be awake, not to see, because with seeing comes responsibility to do something about what you've seen.

But I know all of this unbecoming/becoming, awakening/aliveness is worth it, because I've never felt so REAL, so known, and so loved.

I have proof that when you hold out your grimy life as gift, as miracle, as offering, as the weakness wherein LOVE is made strong, in return, you find this entire tribe of fierce, strong, honest, real people who say "Yes," and "me too."

I know, more deeply than I know almost anything else, that when we press in to the painful places instead of trying to avoid them or hide from them, we find ourselves, we find LOVE, and we find each other.


I hope you will join me on the unbecoming/becoming journey. We need each other. It's not an easy road to walk, but it's sacred, and it's full of light. 


Ring the bells that still can ring

Forget your perfect offering

There is a crack in everything

That's how the light gets in