Lion’s Roar has gone from a small whisper tracking through the trips Bill and I took to a full business with multiple branches. I hardly recognize it and can only imagine it is like seeing a full grown child and remembering the infant.

The beginnings were adding dinners with locals, connecting with local pastors, seeing service programs in the places we traveled. The Lion’s Roar NonProfit Conference in Kenya in 2026 was a giant leap forward. It wasn’t just a leap in logistics, people reached and future plans, it was a faith leap. It was a change in how we prayed and how we trusted God.

This week I was reading Craig Groeschel’s devotional on Dangerous Prayers, the passage that resonated was the idea that we have full access to “the Creator and Sustainer of the universe. The Great I AM. The Alpha and the Omega, The Beginning and the End, the all powerful, ever-present, all knowing God who can send fire from heaven.” I was thinking, I believe in a God who placed the stars, a God who parted the water, a God who raised from the dead- why would I not stand comfortably in front of my Father and ask wild powerful crazy faith filled dreams.

My answer to that is “I Will.” This isn’t without an internal battle that has to be vanquished… a constant cry to God to silence doubt. A refusal to give satan any credence or voice and a daily commitment to striving forward with bold Yes on my lips.

It is a new life and new day each day and I have to say, the excitement of living on this edge is worth the cost of the unknown. Thanks for reading and consider how much bolder could you be praying.

Revelation 1:8 I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says the Lord God, “who is, and who was, and who is to come, the Almighty.

While contemplating the enormity of God’s love under the waterfall, I realized — I just don’t have the capacity to understand it.

I’m embarrassed to say that there have been moments in my life where I’ve envied the blessings in others’ lives — as though their “having” took away from what God can give me. It’s the flesh talking, my human nature that measures resources. I forgot — my Father in heaven created resources. He created the need for resources. He created my needs perfectly for the resources he provides. I get caught up in what I see and not what I know — I’m washed over, drowning in his provisions and blessings.

On our New Zealand trip, we sat in the front of the raft. Water poured over us completely several times. But on the trip over the 21-foot fall, we were yanked out and were under the full force of the two waterfalls meeting. There was enough bounty of water — I was only able to concentrate on my portion. My portion was too much. I was carried, tumbled, held, and baptized by the water.

My point is that God’s love is a constant, enormous river that sweeps us through life. If we’re right under the center of that waterfall, we cannot care about others’ blessings — we have too much to contain ourselves. It’s so wildly abundant, and so freely given.

So that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge — that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.
— Ephesians 3:17-19

Awe — that word makes me think of huge waterfalls, thunderstorms, mountain ranges or waves crashing. But it also brings to mind the birth of a baby and the love we have for special people.

The most awe-inspiring subject I can imagine is God, the Creator of all these other miracles around us. There is a reason we have a similar response — it’s because planted in our DNA is a pull to God, a desire to know and understand him.

Since what may be known about God is plain to them, because God has made it plain to them. For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities — his eternal power and divine nature — have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse.
— Romans 1:19-20

Awe in Hebrew is from the root word Yirah. This is so very close to Yahweh — and it is not by coincidence. Much later in language we see the Scandinavian word Agi, meaning terror, dread, uproar, discipline and restraint. In Swedish it was Aghi, in Danish Augh ae.

The link I’m making is two-fold. First, that God is a part of what we seek, and when we see things that are terrifying, powerful and majestic, we feel awe — and it taps into a deeper part of ourselves. Second, from the very beginning of language and time, we’ve struggled to define God’s greatness. This is good. I love having a God so much bigger than my mind can comprehend.

I’ll close with just a prayer — that we lean into the awesome, faithful nature of our God. We trust him with our concerns, and save any fear for a fearful worship of his awesome nature.

Recently I’ve been mulling hope. This is a transition season, and the line between hope and settling — or hope and dreams of grandeur — is a carefully chosen middle ground.

It led me to some of the emotional moments in David’s life. The study brought up David as he worried about his son. The chaos of the grief was worse before his son passed away. Once his son passed, he cared for himself, ate, and was at peace. “He cannot come back to me, but I shall go to him” (2 Samuel 12:20-23).

This is profound — pause here. His thinking shifted from loss to future hope. He began thinking on an eternal clock. He began thinking about what was coming, not where he was stuck, not what had occurred but what was to be.

How uplifting is it to think what will be? To turn our focus on where we are going and the promise ahead.

I thought about this in relation to transition, unexpected changes and loss. The middle place is often the most traumatic. Once through the process — regardless of the outcome — we find peace.

I hope today, you can sit and recognize God’s abundant peace — peace beyond understanding, a peace that transcends the chaos and noise. My prayer is that sitting in that peace gives you the ability to find where your hope is, and what the anchor of your hope is.

I am going to work for the mindless joy of my dog Ranger today. Happy Sunday.

Holding the promises of God through the journey of life isn’t always easy.

For me, I usually hear the promise in a close moment of meditation or during worship, and I cling to it with a ferocious joy. Then life keeps stacking up weight, and I slowly forget to hold the promise — and the joy leaks away.

Today I read:

I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.
— John 15:11

It stopped me in my tracks. The level of joy that Jesus lived in as God’s son — he left that in me. I want to hold that moment. So in gratitude and joy, I want to stand in this promise.

I hope you find a moment with God that gives you pause and makes you decide to claim it and hold on to it with all of your heart.

God painted a beautiful picture this week as I was working on a study. I was looking up the word for Hope in Greek and then in Hebrew, and just pondering some verses where the word is used.

The word Hope in Hebrew is Tikvah, and it means expectation. But that doesn’t quite capture it. The word is very closely related to the word for cord or rope — and this was the part that got my heart dancing.

Expectation is almost factual. You park in a no-parking zone, you can expect a ticket. If you exercise daily, you can expect muscle tone. You are putting in effort and have reasons behind what you think might happen next.

Hope is more faith-related. You have a hope for things unseen and unexplained. But how can we hold that hope? It’s the tether, the rope God provides — the history of faithfulness, the memories of prayers answered and moments God provided. Hope is real, and it is not earned. We hold fast to God, and He keeps His promises.

God adds so much good to my world I really don’t know how people live outside of a relationship with our Creator.

I said when I began posting more frequently that the posts would be about God, food and travel. This is the week we leave for Australia and New Zealand.

God always opens doors, and it happened again here, with the vacation being preserved during the job changes.

When I plan a trip I often focus on a theme, a hunt, or an activity. We’ve taken a waterfall tour trip in upstate New York. We’ve done a BBQ and Blues tour in the south. We did a “don’t move, don’t think” trip in Playa del Carmen. From cultural immersion to architecture, I love looking at trips from many directions.

I also love history, and really can’t plan without some understanding of what influences and inspires a region. Two things really stood out while planning this trip.

First, the history as a penal colony has created a love of the mavericks and a casual, rough-and-tumble society in both countries. I mean that as a compliment — similar to our American West, there is not a lot of standing on ceremony, and lots of really independent people.

Second is similar to our Native Americans — the countries were first occupied by Aborigines and the Maori people. It’s a complicated and tragic history, but currently gaining the respect both should have always maintained.

This meant experiencing some of both sides of this coin, and two activities we planned do that well.

We will be snorkeling the Great Barrier Reef, but specifically found an Aboriginal tour guide who will share the place the reef holds in their culture. We’re also going to a region in New Zealand the Maori people consider important — using a Maori guide to share information during a white water rafting trip on one of the rivers they hold dear.

I love when we can pay locals, meet locals excited to share, and experience things outside our comfort zone. I hope you enjoyed this small peek inside how I start to plan big trips.

Last night in our women’s book study, we discussed the chapter in Max Lucado’s He Chose the Nails — “I Forgive You.”

Having grown up in the church, this is not a new message — and it wasn’t new to the women at the group. But as we unpacked the beautiful word picture he drew in the chapter — God, having a list of our sins. An individual list for me, of all the petty moments, the poor decisions, the vengeful actions, the moments I turned my back and walked away. He had that list drawn up. He carried it to the cross, and between the rough wood and his hand, that list dangled down.

When I picture it, I see the list long enough to have weight, long enough to stretch almost to the ground. The chapter went on to say — when the nails went in his hands, the carpenter hands, the hands that knew what nail they chose, what nail would do the job best, that knew the force of a hammer — Jesus didn’t flinch or turn away. He was eager for his blood to cover that sin.

He held my sin. He felt that distance from God. He felt that pang of shame. He tasted that bitter flavor of regret. It wasn’t the soldiers who poured his blood — it was Jesus, as part of my Father’s plan, sacrificing to cover it up. I get to leave it behind. I get to stand up from under the burden of that sin, clean, and run into God’s arms, unblemished by that history.

That led us to a conversation — how much are we willing to do for God? Would we be foolish? Would we risk embarrassment? Will we work when we are tired, do more than we are asked, give more than we think we have, use our talents for him? Are we listening to what He asks?

I was chagrined when I realized — sometimes this thought is so big, I discount the debt. I think I might be more grateful to someone who gave me a kidney than to a God who sacrificed his Son, and Jesus, who chose the nails.

When God is working in your life and pushes or urges you to move — move confidently. But when you are waiting, enjoy the stillness. Breathe in, standing under God’s full protection.

I keep speaking about being bold in God. But part of this season is recognizing distractions and stilling my heart from fear and doubt — really leaning into faith rather than pushing through on my own momentum.

I’m blessed to be heading into three days at a women’s retreat. As I prepare my heart, I find myself just asking God to keep me present in His presence.

Not performing. Not producing. Just present.

The black panther is the most powerful presence in any clearing — and it is often the one that hasn’t moved yet. It doesn’t roar to claim its territory. Its stillness is the statement.

Boldness is not always forward motion. Sometimes the most courageous thing you can do is be completely still and completely His.

Life is flying forward for myself and everyone I know. What is it about spring that throws us into fast forward?

Part of my step forward is working thoughtfully to develop my next steps in mission work. The program has an established school-launching system in seven countries around the world — church plants, community programs, well digging. It all needs to be organized and streamlined. And the stories of very real danger and persecution are touching my heart deeply.

The path is exciting. But it needs to be walked prayerfully.

Join me in praying for persecuted pastors and families — for those already in jail — and pray that we find a clear and faithful way to love on them as our brothers and sisters in Christ.

The jaguar doesn’t ask permission of the river or the canopy. It enters the territory because the territory needs it. But before the jaguar moves, it is still. It is reading. It is certain.

That is the invitation here. Not reckless entry. Prayerful, deliberate, convicted movement toward the hard place — because someone is there who needs what you carry.

The Yes Trip is exactly this: giving your time, your energy, your presence to a cause you cannot look away from. If this is stirring something in you, come find out more.

The way God unfolds His revelations to us is so filled with grace.

I spent the weekend with women worshiping and loving God — lots of time in reflection. Two things stood out on the first day.

The first was how long it took for all of us to really be there. Literally, as women, slowing our minds and becoming present takes real discipline and time. We carry so much in.

The second was the theme running through the women’s hearts — a desire to be loved, to feel loved, to accept love. It’s hard to imagine that insecurity sitting behind so many capable smiles, but worthiness was a struggle for almost everyone in the room.

One of the revelations I had was how deeply personal God’s love is. He did create me perfectly and wonderfully — but why?

I know He has a plan for me. I know He is preparing my way. I know He has blessings and promises for me. But it’s more than that.

God wanted time with me. God wants my company. God is eager for me to find quiet conversations with Him. God wants my voice in praise. God wants me seeking Him for comfort. God wants to be my companion — not just for me, but for Him.

God wants me.

What I’m trying to express is: we’re not just humanity. Our Creator was lonely for me. He longed for my being and went to great effort to orchestrate it. God is proud of all the special touches, the unique qualities, the gifts. God delights in me — smiles at me.

And He feels the same about you.

The lynx is known for sitting very still in the forest and simply listening. Being present. Not performing. Just there. That’s the invitation — not to do more for God, but to let Him be with you.

The wicked flee though no one pursues, but the righteous are as bold as a lion.
— Proverbs 28:1

My devotions have a theme right now — verses filled with the concept of God’s boldness. Not the absence of fear, but leaning in, knowing God has already won our victory and our job is stepping out on the water.

Today was a parable in this, as my husband requested the front seats on our rafting trip.

The Category 3 and 5 river had several moments. But the 21-foot waterfall yanked us both out and into the spin cycle beneath two waterfalls — we tucked and rolled and eventually reached a ledge where the guide scooped us up.

We had obeyed the instructions. The guide had said it might get hard, but if we trusted the lessons, we’d be fine.

That is the exact shape of Proverbs 28:1. The righteous don’t flee. They don’t freeze. They tuck, roll, trust the guide, and find the ledge. Boldness is not recklessness — it’s obedience under pressure.

The caracal doesn’t hesitate at the leap. It has already read the distance. It trusts the calculation. And it goes.

What is God asking you to step toward today that feels like the front seat of the raft?

The people in my life — my life and Bill’s life — range in style, mannerism, wealth and age. But most share an expansive outlook on life. I was thinking about this amazing wealth in the hearts of our friends as I was reading the other day, and was struck by a thought.

I was reading about living in Abundance. I love that word — so far beyond needs being met, but a confidence that future needs will be met. Living with a confident abundance in God’s ability to keep the lights on, to feed and clothe us, to protect our heart from wrongs, to fight our battles. Abundance living means setting down our personal scorekeeping, letting go of our fear of the future, and just living a daily life that honors God, knowing He is faithful.

There is a flip side to this coin — a side that lives in a Scarcity mindset. This thought process says: save a little more for yourself. Make sure you’ve covered your needs. There’s not enough time, not enough resources, not enough to go around.

If we really believe Jesus fed the 5,000 with a fish and two loaves of bread, creating twelve baskets of leftovers — if we really believe Jesus turned water into wine just to keep a wedding going — and if we really believe God gave up his Son to forgive our sins — then we believe in a generous God who cares for our needs, emotional, physical and spiritual.

Are you living with faithful abundance? Choosing every day to just be a vessel that pours what God provides out to others? Are you investing your time, your heart, your resources and love of God every day, so there is room for God to refill and renew? Or are you carefully tucking it away, trying to store it for yourself later?

God doesn’t give us resources filled with preservatives — they will spoil just sitting on the side. Use the gifts He’s given, faithfully, trusting He will refill with more.

Beth Moore’s Believing God has been a challenge to take our faith to a more active level — proposing that every challenge we face can be answered with one of five biblical principles:

• God is who He says He is.
• God can do what He says He can do.
• I am who God says I am.
• I can do all things through Christ.
• God’s word is alive and active in me.

When reading Bible stories now, I can see where doubt in one of these areas causes stumbles and falls in one walk with God after another. It made me look at my life and see where I’m pulling back from giving a big YES to God. What areas did I question?

It’s been a great time of leaning into God and learning where I was holding back. Join us for the next book.

We are working through He Chose the Nails by Max Lucado in our women’s Bible study, and the grace in it is impossible to comprehend.

Jesus, for 33 years, lived with full knowledge of how this chapter would end. Being spit on. Beaten. Mocked. The agony of carrying our sin and being out of favor with His God — His Father.

His cry on the cross — My Father, my Father, why have you forsaken me? — was loud and anguished. That is the cry in our own hearts when we let sin pull us out of relationship with God. When we turn away and feel that empty pit of ugly hurt.

That is the cry our soul makes when we choose sin. And redemption’s victory is the result of us turning our face back toward Him. He wants our face directly facing His. He is steadfast and true.

The black panther moves through the darkest part of the forest and sees clearly there. That clarity — that true north — is what God offers when we stop running from the light and simply turn around.

Thank God for His amazing grace. Thank God for His patience and love. Thank God that forgiveness is such a simple step for you and me.

I read a statistic this morning. Christians were surveyed — asked essentially whether following Christ could be described as the propelling force in their lives and decisions.

This should be easy. We’re part of the all-in group. We’re committed. We prioritize church. We show up.

The results were eye-opening: only 11 percent felt that their life as a Christian translated into a life filled with living water — a victorious, conquered life where they were actually living the victory.

Eleven percent.

We need to be wearing the crown that our Father — King of Kings — has already placed on our heads. We need to walk tall knowing the battle is won. This is our victory lap. Our journey is opportunity for God to shine through every situation as we rest in His provision and care.

Stretching Into Royalty is not a metaphor. It is the posture God has been calling us into since the moment He claimed us. The lion doesn’t cower in her own territory. She walks it.

Let’s encourage one another to walk that way today.

Last night I was thinking about prayer — answered prayers, prayers unanswered yes and no, and prayers in process.

I love the big YES. That “Father, help me” — and the answer, like a big hug, comes quickly and clearly. I also love the quiet sweet “yes,” where I see the work happening. I see this in my parenting, my marriage and my friendships — God’s hand, adding depth and wisdom, walking with me. It’s an answered prayer.

Where I have to kick my faith into overdrive is the prayers that I’m not sure if they were a No or a Wait or even an “I already did.” Sometimes I think I’m not watching what God wants me to see, and I have to realign my thinking.

Are my prayers something that brings God glory? Are they encouraging and uplifting? Are my prayers ones that Jesus — sitting at the right hand of the Father — and the Holy Spirit dwelling in me can groan and petition for me at the feet of our Heavenly Father? Are my prayers a reflection of my heart being right?

Search me, O God, and know my heart. Try me and know my thoughts.
— Psalm 139:23

So my challenge to myself, and to you — let’s start a prayer journal, if you haven’t already. Actually write down what you are praying for, what God has on your heart. Leave room. Let’s track the answers. God wants to show his glory. Are we watching?

Have you ever gone through a season where every devotional and every message seems directed at one theme?

Recently, I keep reading about stewardship — and keep hearing messages on stewardship. My first thought is always tithe, but I’ve been challenged to look further: how am I stewarding my time? My energy? My talents?

The Holy Spirit has been whispering. God has been opening doors. And I’m working hard on obedience — giving my time, giving my gifts, showing up where I’m sent.

2 Corinthians 9:11 has literally come up multiple times:

“You will be enriched in every way so that you can be generous on every occasion…”

The caracal doesn’t wait until the moment feels perfect to leap. It reads the signal, and it goes. That is stewardship — not careful hoarding of what God gave you, but faithful, joyful deployment of it.

What message has God been putting in front of you over and over again? What signal are you reading — and are you ready to move on it?

This week, God gave Bill and me a calm season — time to enjoy life and one another. It led me to reflect on God’s rest. God’s calm.

His calm surpasses our circumstance. God is not just for the laying-beside-still-waters calm of the Psalm. God has the calm for Jesus to nap in the middle of the storm.

When we are in turmoil — when life is crashing waves over the edge of your life raft and you’re hanging on from one breathtaking moment to the next — when your soul feels distraught and your heart is beating with panic — God is the rest and the calm in that moment.

You don’t have to wait for the storm to stop. You don’t have to wait for the eye of the storm. You don’t even have to wait to take a deep breath.

You can catch your rest before you catch your breath.

The snow leopard does not wait for the weather to change before it moves. It reads the storm three days out and is already rested, already positioned, already still. That is the life available to us — not after the hard thing passes, but inside it.

Good morning — feel free to comment, question, or add to these posts. That is what this space is for.

This morning’s devotion talks about overcoming, and I was thinking about God’s enormous grace — and how, when we have our focus on that, what do we really have left to overcome?

Insults mean nothing when we are responding as the child of the King. Setbacks are just moments when we are partnered with the world’s Creator. Loneliness is reflection when we are filled with the Holy Spirit.

Maybe instead of singing the words “We shall overcome,” we should just claim the victory that is already ours — and sing “We have overcome,” using the we to mean: with God.

The lion doesn’t wait for permission to stand in her own territory. The battle is already won. We are already walking the victory lap.

Hope it’s a great day. I’d love to hear your thoughts on how we can live more in tune with God day to day.

My heart is tender this morning. God keeps showing me the hurt in people — the hidden pain, the reasons they offend and defend. The study I’m doing right now about the gifts of the cross is breaking my heart every day.

His love is so perfect and so overwhelming. How do I have time for judgment and harshness in the face of that?

The chapter on the crown of thorns makes the point that thorns represent all the wages of sin. Not the sin itself — the cost. The impact. The constant prick and poke that we sinful humans live with every single day. It causes the lashing out, the anger, the outbursts, the shame.

As a preteen, I was painfully shy about attention being on me. I could lead a class, sing at church, do drama — but I didn’t want the focus on me, only on the subject. One day I got a terrible wooden splinter on the back of my leg from a teeter-totter. I couldn’t reach it. Out of shame, embarrassment, and fear of attention, I let it fester. It changed how I sat, how I walked, how I interacted with people. Finally I had to confess it, and my mother lovingly removed it. I still have a scar.

That is the people we meet. That is our parents, our spouse, our children. That is our coworkers, our waitress, our neighbors. They have splinters and thorns, festering — and only God’s forgiveness can remove the object. But they are shaped by it. And we are too.

Today I am so grateful for God’s grace in my life. Grateful for the scars on my heart that show places I have healed. Grateful to look at others through that lens — to recognize where they are — and grateful I can come alongside them and talk about an absolute forgiveness.

Today in your prayer journal: praise God for His forgiveness, and look hard at your heart. Are you carrying any sins you haven’t yet given up? Are you living with any thorns He wants to start healing?

Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers a multitude of sins.
— 1 Peter 4:8

I’ve been thinking about the kind of day Peter must have been having when he wrote those words. Whatever it was, it produced something fierce and tender at once.

We have so many opportunities every day to use love as a force — to smooth what is stressful, to soften what is tense, to meet what is hurtful with something that doesn’t harden in return. That is not weakness. That is the most powerful thing a person can do in a room.

I want to challenge myself to be filled with Christlike love today. Not as a feeling I wait for. As a decision I make before the moment arrives.

The boldest thing in any territory isn’t the roar. It’s the one who stays.

Good morning, friends. While doing some introspection during our move into our new forever home, I took a break from writing. I’m ready to roll up my sleeves and start again — and I’ve missed sharing.

A quick update: we’ve moved into our home in North Mesa, and you are all warmly invited to join us on Sunday, December 3rd to share our joy and see our home. We’ll have coffee, tea and dessert, and time to catch up.

December 3, 2017 — drop in from 3–7pm
1826 N. Barkley St., Mesa AZ 85203
We’d love to see you.

Meanwhile, I’m working through two studies — one on women of the Bible and another on prayer. I’ll delve in more tomorrow, but I’m looking forward to diving in with you again.

New home. New season. The lion doesn’t hesitate at a new threshold — she walks through it.

Beth Moore’s last two chapters in Believing God have me really thinking. Chapter 17 is about Loving Faithfully — not thinking of love as an emotional response but a duty we cheerfully give. We give love when it is not returned, when it is spurned, when it is ignored, when it is not working, when patience has run out, when our well should be dry, when all is lost. Why? Because we are Christ followers and Christ loved that way.

I’ve always wondered, how did Christ share a meal with Judas, wash his feet (not ironically or passive aggressively) but lovingly? How did Christ forgive and love his tormentors and the ones who crucified him? He did it because it was his calling. He asks us to love the same.

I was thinking of my teenage sons — how often they respond with meanness, thoughtlessness and rejection. I keep coming back, but there is a part of me that thinks, someday they will get it. Or a part of me that wants to reject them back, and I’ll admit I do give them the cold shoulder. Or, I was thinking of relatives I hold at arm’s length because they are hard to love — I just casually make myself difficult to contact, hard to arrange things with.

Can we say, convicted? But also relieved. Love doesn’t have to stem from an overfilled heart but from obedience. My love isn’t failing despite the worldly response. Because I’m loving in faith, my only concern is that I’m pleasing God. There is actually a huge burden lifted by that insight, and it makes loving tough behaviors different. Can anyone relate to that?

A new beginning. God is all about new beginnings — He challenges us to move forward constantly.

As I transition from a flexible schedule to a regular 9-5 job, my weekly book and Bible study will have to transition also. But the hunger doesn’t stop. Neither does the invitation.

I’ve been working through Beth Moore’s Believing God, and it has been a challenge to take faith to a more active level — proposing that every challenge we face can be answered with one of five biblical principles:

• God is who He says He is.
• God can do what He says He can do.
• I am who God says I am.
• I can do all things through Christ.
• God’s Word is alive and active in me.

When reading Bible stories now, I can see where doubt in one of these areas caused stumbles and falls in walk after walk with God. It made me look at my own life and see where I’m pulling back from giving a big yes to God. What areas did I question? Where was I holding back?

It’s been a great time of leaning in and learning. The Jaguar in you already knows what door you’re standing in front of. The question is whether you’ll walk through it.

Join us for the next book.