Can we go see Him?

Scripture:

"Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven."
— Matthew 18:3 (NIV)

This morning, while I sat quietly reading my Bible with a cup of coffee in hand, one of my two-year-old twins came toddling over and asked, “Mama, what are you doing?”

“I’m reading my Bible,” I told him. “The Bible teaches us about Jesus.”

Without missing a beat, he lit up. A grin spread across his whole face and he began bouncing excitedly — “Jesus! Jesus! Mama, can we go see Him?”

I felt it hit deep in my chest — a moment of pure, sacred conviction. His question wasn’t theological, rehearsed, or complicated. It was rooted in joy, trust, and belief. Jesus was real to him. Jesus was knowable to him. And he wanted to go see Him.

How often do we overcomplicate faith? How often do we let it become dull with duty, tangled in performance, or silenced by pain and doubt? But here was this tiny soul, just beginning to speak in full sentences, hungering for the presence of Jesus. No hesitation. No skepticism. Just wonder.

I thought about how Jesus told us to come to Him like little children — how He wrapped His arms around them and lifted their status above scholars and leaders in the Kingdom of Heaven. Children are open. They’re honest. They believe what they’re told when it comes from someone they trust.

And they ask simple, world-stopping questions like:
“Can we go see Him?”

This is The Quiet Work — the slow, faithful planting of seeds. Reading your Bible in the soft morning light. Saying Jesus’ name out loud in front of your children. Living your love for Him so openly that your toddler wants to jump up and follow.

Some days feel like they disappear in messes and chores and endless noise. But God is in those days. And our quiet work is not wasted.

He sees it. And sometimes, He lets us glimpse the harvest in the voice of a child.

Prayer:

Jesus, give me the faith of a child again. Strip away what complicates and clouds my trust in You. Help me do the quiet work faithfully — even when it feels unseen. And let me see You through the eyes of wonder again. Amen.

🌱 The Waiting Game: What If It's You?

Hey sister,
Have you ever felt like you’re stuck in that awkward space between frustration and exhaustion? You started this season of waiting with a surrendered heart — dedicated, hopeful, and full of perseverance. You gave it to God… only to pick it back up when the waiting felt too long. Suddenly, anger bubbled over, patience wore thin, and maybe you’ve shed a few tired tears.

You pray for the person or situation to change. You read the Bible, search for verses that apply, and ask God to move — because, clearly, they’re the problem, right? Surely this person just needs a heart shift, a mind shift. Surely God needs to work in them.

But sister… what if God is also waiting?
What if He’s waiting on you? Waiting for you to slow down, quiet your heart, and recognize the work He’s doing in you? What if this season of waiting is an invitation — not just for someone else to change, but for you to be reshaped, refined, and reshuffled by the hand of the Father?

🌷 Consider the Stories

Think about Sarah, waiting for the child God promised. The long wait exposed her doubt and impatience, but it also shaped her heart and deepened her trust in a faithful God.
Think about Joseph, thrown into a pit and later a prison. The wait felt unfair, long, and lonely, but God used it to build character, resilience, and obedience.
Think about David, anointed long before he ever became king. The wait taught him to lean fully on God, to serve faithfully, and to lead humbly.

Each of these moments was a space for God to do deep heart work — to build strength, obedience, and intimacy. Sometimes the delays aren’t about the person or the circumstance. Sometimes, you are the one God is reshaping. Sometimes He is doing holy work in that quiet space, making you more like Jesus.

✨ Reflection Questions:

• What part of your waiting feels the heaviest right now?

• Have you been focusing more on someone else’s change than on the work God might be doing in you?

• What character or heart shift might God be calling you to surrender?

• How can you lean into this “quiet space” of waiting and trust that it has a holy purpose?

• What biblical example can you draw strength from (Sarah, Joseph, David)? What do you admire about their wait?

• What one prayer can you pray this week to invite God to work deeply in you?

🙏 Short Prayer:

“Lord, open my heart to the work You’re doing within me. When I’m tired of the wait, help me remember that every moment has a purpose. Refine me, teach me, and shape me to be more like You — so that when the answer arrives, I’ll be rooted and ready. Amen.”

When Women Gather — The Quiet Work of Sisterhood

“Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up.” — Ecclesiastes 4:9-10a

There is a sacred strength in sisterhood.

When women gather—whether around a kitchen table, in folding chairs at Bible study, at the ballfield, or in the quiet corners of text threads—something powerful happens. We start to breathe deeper. We are seen. We are reminded that we’re not walking alone. That, in itself, is holy.

Christianity was never meant to be lived out in isolation. Jesus didn’t just call disciples; He built community. Paul didn’t just preach sermons; he wrote letters to friends and churches. And even at the empty tomb, it was a group of women—not a lone soul—who showed up to serve, and in turn became the first messengers of resurrection.

Today’s culture often shouts for attention, platform, and productivity. But we’re reminded in The Quiet Work that faithfulness is often found in the unnoticed. The unseen. The whispered prayer. The coffee dropped off with no credit claimed. The friend who shows up at your door before you even ask.

Your tribe—your people—are the women who come alongside you in that quiet work. They don’t need to be loud to be loud for you. They intercede when you can’t find the words. They remind you of who you are when the world tries to blur it. They lift your arms when you’re too weary to raise them.

Sometimes, we find our tribe in a season of desperation. Other times, they’ve always been there—we just have to slow down enough to see the gift they are. Either way, the Lord calls us to walk together. To encourage one another daily (Hebrews 3:13). To carry one another’s burdens (Galatians 6:2). To lock arms in this good, quiet, sacred work.

And sister, if you’re still praying for your tribe—don’t give up. God has not forgotten.

Reflection Questions:

• Who is in your tribe right now? Have you told them what they mean to you?

• Is there a woman in your life quietly carrying something heavy that you can come alongside this week?

• What would it look like to intentionally cultivate deeper, faith-rooted friendships in this season?

Prayer:

Lord, thank You for the gift of godly women who walk beside us. Remind us that we were never meant to do this life alone. Teach us how to show up, to listen, and to love one another well. May our friendships be a reflection of You—strong, steady, and full of grace. Amen.

Our Summer Rhythm: Faith, Dirt, and Simplicity

There’s a rhythm that shows up in summer — slower, looser, and (thankfully) a little messier.

It doesn’t come with a perfect morning routine or color-coded calendar. Around here, it sounds more like screen doors creaking, the hum of fans and tractors, and the occasional “y’all come inside, you’re covered in mud.”

It smells like sunscreen and feed and cut grass.

It feels like bare feet on the porch.

And at its best, it tastes like simplicity — slow meals, sweet tea, and still moments that remind us what matters.

We’re leaning into that this year.

After a full LCCL year, we’re shifting gears. Summer for us means:

• Morning chores on the farm before the sun bakes the fields

• Midday breaks for cold fruit and quiet reading

• RV organizing, homeschool prep, and some much-needed margin

• All the water activities we can handle

• Catching up with families, planning for fall, and letting God stir new dreams gently

It’s not glamorous — and that’s kind of the point.

We weren’t made to hustle every hour of every day. There’s glory in the slow, the sweat, and the sacred ordinary.

This summer, we’re choosing:

• Faith over frenzy

• Dirt under fingernails

• Simplicity over spectacle

And we’re praying that this season grows something in us that lasts well beyond it.

If you’re here too — in the in-between, the break, the slow place — welcome. There’s room on the porch, and maybe a tomato sandwich waiting.

Let’s settle into the rhythm together.

When No One Sees…

There are parts of motherhood, womanhood, and waiting that no one sees.

The midnight prayers whispered in the hallway.

The quiet ache you carry in the Target baby aisle.

The lunches packed with a little extra love.

The moments of worship you sneak in between laundry and toddlers.

No one sees those—but God does.

And I’ve been thinking lately about the idea of a prayer closet.

Not a literal closet (though it could be), but a sacred space where we retreat—emotionally, mentally, spiritually—to meet with the Lord.

If I’m honest, I used to feel unsure about that concept. Did I need a designated corner? Was I doing it “right”? And how could I make space for something so quiet in a life that feels so loud?

But the more I lean into it, the more I realize: the prayer closet is less about where you are—and more about where your heart goes when it longs for the Lord.

It’s in the carpool line.

It’s at the kitchen sink.

It’s in the bathroom with the door locked and a toddler’s fingers under it.

It’s in the questions, the praise, the tears, and the surrender.

“And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.” – Matthew 6:6

Sisters, He sees.

He sees the mothering you do in the quiet.

He sees the healing you’re chasing.

He sees the nurturing no one acknowledges.

He sees your prayer closet—even if it’s invisible to everyone else.

And in His kingdom, quiet work is never wasted.

A Different Kind of Start: Why We Launched LCCL

If someone had told me a few years ago that I’d be even a small part of starting a nonprofit homeschool cooperative, I would’ve smiled politely and moved on. But this year, God turned a quiet nudge into a holy calling—and Lighthouse Christian Cooperative Learning (LCCL) was born.

This wasn’t about filling a gap in the homeschool community.

It was about answering a need that too many families didn’t know how to put into words.

There are so many moms and dads who deeply long for a different kind of education for their children—one rooted in faith, built on character, and surrounded by peace. But for many, traditional homeschooling just isn’t possible. Not every parent has the flexibility to stay home or the capacity to do it all alone.

So we created LCCL: a drop-off, faith-based cooperative that walks alongside working families to provide a Christ-centered, community-driven education alternative.

It’s not your typical co-op.

It doesn’t fit the mold—and we’re not trying to.

We’re here for the families who feel caught in the middle.

For the parents who whisper, “I want more for my kids… but I don’t know how.”

For the mamas working long shifts. For the dads piecing together side jobs.

For the kids who thrive with routine, joy, and Jesus.

And I haven’t done it alone.

Lacy, Rebekah, and Debbie have been my co-laborers in this field I never expected to be in. What began as an idea tossed around in prayer has become a mission field we didn’t see coming. We’re not just teaching children—we’re ministering to families.

And at home, this mission has shaped our rhythm too.

Our homeschool days aren’t perfect or Pinterest-worthy.

There’s a rhythm — but not a rigid plan.

Some mornings start with scripture and peace. Others start with spilled cereal and grace. But even in the mess, God shows up.

We teach from textbooks and nature walks, read-alouds and life lessons, grace and grit. Through it all, we keep coming back to the same things:

Connection over completion. Faith over formulas. People over perfect.

Even in starting something big like LCCL, we’re learning to stay anchored in the small, faithful steps. To move at the pace of grace.

LCCL isn’t just a cooperative.

It’s a community, a calling, and a glimpse of the Kingdom right here in our corner of North Georgia.

We’ve only just begun, but already the stories unfolding remind us:

When God calls you to something different, He provides everything you need to walk it out—community, courage, and a whole lot of grace.

When No One Sees What You’re Building

Scripture:
“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters.” — Colossians 3:23 (NIV)

Devotional:
There’s a sacred kind of exhaustion that comes from doing the work no one sees.

Wiping tears. Cooking meals. Speaking prayers only God hears.
Grieving the child you lost—or the one you long to hold.
Mentoring a young heart that isn’t biologically yours but has become yours just the same.

So much of our faithfulness happens in places that don’t get posted, shared, or celebrated.
And it’s easy to wonder: Does this even matter?

But the truth is: the invisible work is often the most eternal.
Because the Kingdom of God is built in hidden places—in small yeses, unglamorous moments, and love that outlasts applause.

If what you’re building today feels unnoticed… Heaven sees.
And Heaven still says: Well done.

Prayer:
Lord, help me believe that what’s unseen is still sacred.
When my hands are full, or when they feel painfully empty—remind me that You are near.
You see every tear, every act of love, every seed I plant.
Help me trust that in Your time, and in Your way, You will bring the growth. Amen.

Rooted in the Ordinary

Key Verse:

Zechariah 4:10 (NLT)
“Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin…”

Devotional Message:

There’s a sacred rhythm to motherhood that no one claps for. It’s found in sock-matching and lunch-packing, in 2 a.m. rocking and late-night laundry. It’s hidden in the carpool lines, grocery aisles, and whispered prayers while you stir spaghetti and stop a tantrum mid-boil.

It feels unseen—because it often is.

But not by God.

Scripture reminds us that nothing is too small for Him to notice. He sees your faithfulness in the mundane. He meets you in the repetition, in the moments that feel like you're pouring from an empty cup. When you're wiping tears—your child’s or your own—He’s there. When your prayers feel more like sighs, He hears those too.

This space—The Grove—is a gathering of moms in every season, choosing to believe that the unseen parts of our lives are still holy ground. You’re not just getting through the day. You are growing deep roots in faith, even when it doesn't feel like it.

God isn’t waiting for the big, bold moments. He’s already in the car ride, the bedtime routine, the mess, the ache, and the joy. And He’s proud of the quiet strength you carry.

Reflection Questions:

1. Where in your daily routine do you feel most unseen or unnoticed?

2. How might God be present in that exact moment?

3. What would it look like to invite Him into one “mundane” part of your day this week?

Prayer:

God, meet me in the middle of my ordinary. Remind me that You see every dish, every diaper, every deep breath I take to try again. Help me recognize Your presence in the small things, and let Your love anchor me as I grow roots in this season. Amen.

Welcome to Rooted and Raised

Hi friend —
If you’ve somehow stumbled here in the middle of dishes, discipline, or a desperate need for coffee, welcome. You’re in good company.

Rooted and Raised has been quietly growing in my heart for a long time. I created this space as a soft landing for women like you and me—women who are trying to live faithfully in the real, often chaotic, often beautiful, middle of motherhood, marriage, homeschooling, and a whole lot of ordinary.

You’ll find a little bit of everything here:
• Stories from the farm
• What’s working (or not working) in our homeschool rhythm
• Quiet thoughts on faith
• Probably a burned dinner or two
• And hopefully—grace for it all

I believe deeply that God meets us in the mundane. He walks with us in laundry piles and early mornings and garden rows and math lessons and toddler meltdowns. He’s not waiting for our quiet time to look perfect. He’s already in the carpool line.

So if you’re a mom, a teacher, a homemaker, or just someone trying to follow Jesus in a loud world—I hope this space feels like a breath of fresh air.

We're building a life here. Rooted in faith. Raised with intention.

Welcome home.

Thanks for being here.
Subscribe to get new posts right in your inbox—and stay tuned for the first devotional + a peek into our homeschool rhythm.

With grace,
Kaitlin