Adena M'lynn's Voice

  What echoes in me are the truths I cannot silence. They ripple through my bones, through breath, through the hollow spaces I thought were forgotten. I smell them before I hear them— the sharp bite of beer from my grandmother’s breath, the sweetness of bread rising in a neighbors kitchen, the sting of cigarette smoke curling in the dark, each scent a messenger bringing the past into my present. These echoes carry voices— my own when I was small and searching, the light of those who loved me without condition, the leaders whose words once lit torches in the dark. They come back to me on the trail of scent— a perfume spilled on Sunday clothes, the earthy musk of rain on clay, the iron tang of blood when I was too young to bleed. Each echo is a conversation between who I was and who I am becoming, reminding me that words and smells and moments don’t vanish— they seep into the air, and when the wind is right, they return. They reverberate inside me, reshaping my breath, shaping tomorr...

  When you heard me call your name, I wasn’t whispering just letters— I was carving a  shelter out  of air, a place I made for us, a place called  home. H— is for the  heartbeat that never gave up on us, for the  hands  that held the broken pieces, for the  hope  that hums like a hymn underneath every silence. O— is for the  open door, the one that never locked you out, the circle of arms that make a whole even when the world is shattered glass. It is the  oxygen  of belonging, the breath we share when we say: “You are safe here.” M— is for  me, not in selfishness, but in the promise: I bring all of myself so you can rest in the truth that you don’t walk alone. It is the  mirror  of us, me becoming we, me becoming more. E— is for  eternity, for the endless way love lingers, like the echo of your name still alive in my chest. It is for  everything I couldn’t say until now, and for the  ever after th...

Echoes: Self — September 1 A New Beginning September 1 feels like a doorway. Today, I choose to step through it with lighter hands and a clearer heart. I release what no longer serves me—the weight of old disappointments, the voices that tell me I’m not enough, the habits that keep me small. I choose to keep only what nourishes me, hope, courage, compassion, and the will to keep growing. Like autumn leaves drifting free, I shed what is finished so that new roots and branches may stretch into the days ahead. This about letting go. It is about making space—for joy, for clarity, and for a truer version of myself to echo forward.

    As the air shifts toward autumn, and September brings the last fruits of summer, and the temps are dramatically lower, I find myself in the kitchen tossing together salads that taste like both sunshine and the promise of cooler days. Food is never just food—it can be a metaphor, haha, you know it, it’s a metaphor used as a reminder, and nourishment for both body and spirit. Each ingredient whispers something about the nature of God. Lettuce – God’s Faithfulness Every salad begins with a foundation. Crisp green leaves hold everything together. Like lettuce, God’s faithfulness is the bedrock of our lives—steady, abundant, dependable. No matter what we add or how the recipe changes, His steadfast love endures. Tomatoes – God’s Generosity Bright, juicy tomatoes burst with flavor. They remind me of the generosity of God—overflowing blessings, vibrant color, and nourishment that surprises us with sweetness in unexpected places. Cucumbers – God’s Refreshment Cool slices of cucumb...

  By Adena M’lynn Seven birds perch on the wire each morning, their song reminding us to to breathe, to notice. In their wings they carry histories of deserts crossed, mountains climbed, and storms endured— just as we carry our own stories inside. The dove whispers peace. The eagle teaches courage. The owl keeps watch in darkness. The sparrow sings of humble endurance. Together they weave a thread of hope through the sky, stitching beauty into the bustle of our days. Their chorus is simple but eternal: Hold on, heart— rise and shine. Song on YouTube

  Dear America, We keep writing more laws. Each one stacked like bricks, tall as courthouse steps, heavy as locked doors.They pile up until they block the horizon. And yet, behind this wall of rules, justice does not always live, its drowning in silence and pretense.  Laws are written in ink. Justice is written in spirit.  Laws can trap us in a “gotcha” game—measuring people by mistakes or “I’ll show you”, not possibilities. Justice asks us to measure with compassion, to weigh the whole of a life, not the worst moment of it. America, we have become fluent in punishment. We know how to legislate. We know how to prosecute. But do we know how to restore? Do we know how to listen? Do we know how to heal? Too often, justice is answered with silence—or worse, with lies. We call it fairness when it is only paperwork. We call it truth when it is only politics. We call it law when it is really power. But real justice—does not bend to convenience. It does not hide in loopholes or g...