We all carry within us a quiet longing for peace, for joy, for a life that feels whole. Some might call it paradise, others healing. For me, it’s Eden. Not a place free from pain, but a space where joy and sorrow can sit together without shame.
The quest for Eden is not about pretending everything is fine or pushing grief aside. It’s about honoring the deep wounds life carves into us while still reaching for beauty. It’s about learning how to hold both the ache and the awe. In a world often fractured by trauma, loss, and uncertainty, this becomes sacred work.
Eden, in its original telling, was a garden of harmony. Everything had its place. There was no striving, no shame. While we may not return to that literal garden, many of us spend our lives trying to recreate some version of it as our souls seek a place of safety, belonging, and rest in this world.
This search isn’t always spiritual. Sometimes, it looks like therapy. Other times, it’s building a home that feels like a refuge. Sometimes, it’s found in friendships where you don’t have to explain why your heart still breaks over something that happened years ago. It’s found in the moments we laugh through tears or when joy feels like rebellion amid suffering.
Finding Eden is not about forgetting the fall. It’s about choosing to believe restoration is still possible—even here, even now. It’s not a one-time destination but a lifelong practice of returning. We plant gardens in the wilderness. We light candles in the dark. We choose love, again and again.
We all carry a longing for Eden, a space where joy and sorrow can safely coexist. The quest for Eden isn’t about escaping pain. I can never forget the grief and trauma from the death of my husband by suicide so soon after we married. The quest for it is about creating a life where we can honor the weight of grief and trauma while still making room for joy, laughter, and beauty. It’s about choosing hope in the face of heartache, planting gardens in the wilderness, and building a life that holds space for both healing and hurting. This is the journey I am on, one of restoration, of courage, of coming home to myself.
I want to invite you to be part of this conversation. Whether through personal essays, poetry, or creative reflections, I want to hear your story of Finding Eden. What does it look like for you to hold both pain and beauty in the same breath? How have you found glimpses of restoration in the midst of what’s been broken?
I have created 12 year-long themes for “Finding Eden,” each reflecting a stage or aspect of the journey toward hope and joy. You are invited to submit a short reflection (150–300 words) exploring a personal moment, memory, or lesson that feels raw, honest, and hopeful. Here is the link for submissions.
Submissions can be in any style, including poetry, and may also include a photo, artwork, or creative and special project that embodies the spirit of the theme. You will need to include a photo of yourself or an image that goes along with your writing, your Instagram handle, and Substack handle (if you have one). Newsletters will be released every month through Substack and shared out through Instagram. There is a place in the form for your submission allowing you to upload the link to your file that includes your writing, social media information, and a photo.
Eden is the courage to keep making space for both grief and joy and a life lived with open hands, a heart that remembers what was lost but still dares to bloom. I look forward to collaborating with you on this project.