Kaitlyn E. Bouchillon's Blog, page 16
April 2, 2017
An Invitation, New Books, and Even James Corden
Remember back when blogs were almost entirely random lists + good finds that you truly love? Basically, this is that. It’s a little different than what you’re used to around here, but it also feels like a snapshot of my right-now life: ordinary but good, beautiful but chaotic.
I have three things to share with you (if you don’t know about my health story, you may actually want to start right here) as well as several amazing books/great deals that expire tomorrow. So, you know, hop to it. (Tha...
March 20, 2017
The Writing on the Wall
I’m blinking back tears in Starbucks, and I just think you should k...
March 10, 2017
amaryllis.
I’m pretty sure I had never heard of an amaryllis, the flower the blooms in Winter, until I listened to Christy Nockel’s podcast this past Fall.
I was instantly captivated, struck by the ordinary extraordinary of being planted in a small space, growing slowly and quietly in the dark. And then, just when the night feels too long, like Spring may never come, the pure white or the deep, dark red petals burst open, almost as if they’ve woken up from a long sleep.
The idea brings tears to my eyes...
March 1, 2017
My (New) Ebook, Giveaways, and Gifts for You
After receiving dozens of requests, the ebook version of Even If Not: Living, Loving and Learning in the in Between is here!
It releases today — March 2nd — and includes all 9 prints (pictured here) in full-color. The Table of Contents is even linked to each individual chapter for easy viewing (#SoFancy).
To celebrate, I’m hosting a few giveaways + sending free gifts to everyone who orders either the ebook or the print book!
But fi...
February 28, 2017
What I Learned This Winter
To be honest, I’m not sure Winter actually existed in Alabama this year. It’s currently February and the high is 78 so, I mean, is February the new May? The Florida-girl in me loves flip-flop weather but it legitimately makes me sad to pack away all the baggy sweaters and scarves I didn’t get to wear.
Alas. Here we are, saying goodbye to the Winter that really wasn’t and waving hello to March while wondering how in the actual heck are we three months into 2017 already?! (Is that just me? No?...
February 21, 2017
Do It Again.
When I don’t have the words to pray, I often find myself saying “do it again.”
Those three words somehow manage to sum up my emotions and racing thoughts, hopes and beliefs.
“You’ve done it before. I believe You are more than capable to do it again, but I will choose to trust and love You even if not, even if You choose not to. But God? Please do it again.”
Provide. Heal. Restore. Redeem. Mend. Answer.
He’s done every bit of it before and is fully able to do every bit of it again, for me and...
February 5, 2017
stories on the shelf
We’re thirty-six days into 2017 and I’ve read eight books. Yep, eight.
I’ve told you this before, so you probably aren’t surprised. But the thing is, I just really love books.
At any given point, I have five or six books piled on my nightstand. If you take into account the bookshelf that is overflowing, the three stacks of books under the bed, the Kindle app that is a bit overloaded and the dozen or so books waiting patiently in the corner of the room, well, you might say that I have a bit of...
January 30, 2017
My Word for 2017: Planted.
In retrospect, it seems blatantly obvious.
It was October, the leaves had yet to change their colors, and God made it abundantly clear what word I should choose for 2017.
For many years, I’ve joined the #OneWord365 movement. Instead of making a list of re...
January 26, 2017
This Is for You If You’re Craving Connection…
It feels like yesterday and also, sometimes, like another lifetime. Time is a tricky thing.
Did you know that I used to work for (in)courage? How that even happened is nothing short of a miracle and all God’s doing, r...
January 20, 2017
2016: the Year of the Broken Home
There’s something inside that feels empty. In my mind I’ve come to a well, a resting and gathering place, with a ladle in my hand. I reach down again and again and though the bucket isn’t full, the water-line is rising.
Way back when I heardan old tale of a leaking bucket. It never could stay filled up all the way, and by the time the owner returned home from the water source there was nothing left inside. But the pathway he had walked, dusty and barren, began to grow. The water that sloshed...


