aneye4nature

05/07/2026

04/23/2026

You’re not disqualified.

That’s the heartbeat behind The Unshamed Soul.

This book comes out of real life. Public failure. Divorce. Health struggles. The slow rebuilding of faith when everything you thought was solid isn’t anymore.

At the center is one hard truth most people live under without naming it:

Guilt says you did something wrong.
Shame says you are something wrong.

And that shift will quietly shape how you see yourself, God, and your future.

This is not a book about trying harder or fixing yourself.

It’s about coming back to grace.

Not the watered-down version, but the kind that interrupts self-condemnation and meets you right in the middle of your mess.

Repentance is not earning your way back. It’s returning to a relationship that was never built on performance.

There’s a picture that runs through this book. Standing before God with everything exposed, every failure on the table, and hearing one verdict repeated:

Forgiven.

Not minimized. Not excused. Forgiven.

This is for the person who wonders if they’ve gone too far, failed too publicly, or fallen too many times.

You haven’t.

There is a way forward. Not toward perfection, but toward freedom.

04/14/2026

Tension isn’t always something to fix. Sometimes it’s something to sit in for a season.

I read this recently in a devotional by Kim Avery: “Tension isn’t an enemy but an invitation…instead of pushing it away or trying to fix it, sit with it. Ask God, ‘What are you inviting me to believe about you in this space?’”

I don’t like tension, but here’s the honest part… I’m not wired to avoid it either.

I’m an Enneagram Eight. I don’t mind hard conversations. If anything, I move toward them a little too quickly. I’d rather clear the air than sit with it.

But sometimes sitting in the middle of a tense situation is better than taking the bull by the horns.

There’s a moment I wrote about in The Unshamed Soul that speaks to this.

In a relationship that mattered, a conversation needed to happen. I could feel the tension building. Tight chest. Short answers. Distance growing, but nobody naming it.

I had two choices.

Push through and force a quick resolution. Or slow down and let God meet me in it.

I didn’t handle it perfectly. But I didn’t rush to fix it either. I didn’t try to control the outcome.

And somewhere in that uncomfortable, messy moment… God met me.

Not with a lecture.
Not with disappointment.
With an invitation.

“Will you trust Me here, too?”

Not just in the calm.
But in the middle of misunderstanding and things you can’t control.

Tension has a way of exposing what you actually believe.

Do you believe God is still good when things feel strained?
Do you believe He’s present when nothing feels resolved?

Most of us want resolution. Fast. Clean.

God often offers something deeper.

Formation. Growth. Maturity.

So next time you feel tension rising, don’t rush past it.

Sit in it.
Lean into it.

Not forever. But honestly.

And ask Him, “God, what are you inviting me to believe right here?”

Because that question might change everything.



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This version lands at ~2,150 characters, so you’re safely under the limit.

03/28/2026

I just got home after four days in the hospital. What started as gallbladder surgery turned into something far more serious, an unexpected bowel resection after a perforation.

It was a hard stretch. Pain, uncertainty, and more than a few moments where things felt out of control.

And through it all, Katherine was there. Steady. Present. Going above and beyond in ways I will never fully be able to explain.

This poem is for her.

Home isn’t the house
or the street with the familiar turn.
It isn’t the chair, the view,
or the things we once thought we needed.

Home is a person.

A voice that settles the noise in you.
A presence that says, “You’re safe here,”
without ever saying a word.

It’s the one who sees all your rough edges
and doesn’t flinch.
Who knows your whole story
and stays anyway.
Who knows your worst moments,
your hidden corners, your secrets,
and loves you anyhow.

Home is the one who stands beside you
when life breaks open.
Who doesn’t run from the hard days
or the long nights.
Who stays when things are messy,
and holds steady when you can’t.

Home is laughter that comes easy.
Silence that doesn’t feel empty. A quiet moment together that says more than words ever could.

It’s walking through ordinary days
and somehow they feel full.
Not because life got easier,
but because you’re not carrying it alone.

Home is the one
you want beside you
when life is heavy
and when it’s light.

Not a place you go,
but a person you choose,
again and again.

Here you go, same core set with one that captures that deeper “home is a person” idea:

03/28/2026

I just got home after four days in the hospital. What started as gallbladder surgery turned into something far more serious, an unexpected bowel resection after a perforation.

It was a hard stretch. Pain, uncertainty, and more than a few moments where things felt out of control.

And through it all, Katherine was there. Steady. Present. Going above and beyond in ways I will never fully be able to explain.

This poem is for her.

Home isn’t the house
or the street with the familiar turn.
It isn’t the chair, the view,
or the things we once thought we needed.

Home is a person.

A voice that settles the noise in you.
A presence that says, “You’re safe here,”
without ever saying a word.

It’s the one who sees all your rough edges
and doesn’t flinch.
Who knows your whole story
and stays anyway.
Who knows your worst moments,
your hidden corners, your secrets,
and loves you anyhow.

Home is the one who stands beside you
when life breaks open.
Who doesn’t run from the hard days
or the long nights.
Who stays when things are messy,
and holds steady when you can’t.

Home is laughter that comes easy.
Silence that doesn’t feel empty. A quiet moment together that says more than words ever could.

It’s walking through ordinary days
and somehow they feel full.
Not because life got easier,
but because you’re not carrying it alone.

Home is the one
you want beside you
when life is heavy
and when it’s light.

Not a place you go,
but a person you choose,
again and again.

03/23/2026

Took a beautiful hike today on the Scott Camp Trail in Crooked River. Amazing day! Spring has sprung!

03/19/2026

Please understand me. 😉😂

03/18/2026

Why does Irish stew only have 39 beans? Because if there was one more, it’d be farty! 😂 ☘️

03/17/2026

Happy Birthday, Katherine.

You are one of the strongest, kindest, most gracious women I have ever known. You are my partner in adventure. You laugh easily. You forgive quickly. And somehow you still choose to love your slightly worn-out, occasionally stubborn, coffee-dependent husband.

I notice the things most people never see.

Your patience.
Your loyalty.
Your quiet strength.
The way you care deeply about people— especially your family.
The way you bring warmth and life into our home and into my life every single day.

You are not just beautiful inside and out; you are rare.

Walking through life with you is one of the great gifts God has given me. Through the ups, downs, strange turns, laughter, tears, and everything in between, you have been my companion, my encouragement, and one of my greatest blessings.

I adore you more than words can explain.

How cool to be born on St. Patrick’s Day, too! You truly are incredible.

Happy Birthday to the woman I love, admire, and thank God for every single day,

Kurt

02/18/2026

If you know, you know. 😉