Sharon McKeeman Blog » Blog

Masthead header

Processed with VSCO with a4 preset

Each woman is a collection of stories… some exhilarating and some heartbreaking. My life is no different, and each of these seasons eventually pass. Our stories are tied together with the thread that is our life, and they are also woven together with our family and friends’ lives and even those we have never met and the believers that have gone before us.

These seasons may seem endless when we are in them and the stories may seem so numerous that they go on forever, but there is only one absolute – one permanent.

When everything seems to shift and fall away, the one thing that remains is our Creator and his love for us. Our very lives are the story he is writing and Christ and the cross are what he has given us to hold onto.

Reading scripture has been an on-again off-again part of my life, but over the years it has been a lifeline I have held onto. The times when I am soaking up God’s love letter to me are marked with a greater sense of peace and being loved. Over the past few years the beautiful app She Reads Truth has been a daily part of my life as I read God’s word together with a community of other women. I was excited and honored to find out that the women who founded this community, Raechel Myers and Amanda Bible Williams, had written a book, She Reads Truth, sharing their personal stories interlaced with the truth of God’s word; and that they would like me to help spread the word about it.

As I read I especially resonated with Rachel’s story of pregnancy loss since I have gone through a stillbirth and two miscarriages. It was sensitive and raw at the same time and reminded me of God’s love and faithfulness even in the hardest of times. Each of the stories shared covered such a wide range but the truth was always another facet of the same permanence we hold in Christ. In the face of everything this broken world throws at us and the insecurities of our own hearts, they are a reminder of “whose we are.”

I also really love that the beautiful linen cover itself serves as a graphic reminder in my home that I am one who reads truth. I want this to be a legacy my children receive from me, and this book is a powerful reminder of what is ultimately the most important and permanent in my life – the truth God has shared through the love letter he wrote us.

You can learn more about the book and order it HERE

Processed with VSCO with m5 preset

Processed with VSCO with m5 preset


In California every day is the same. Blue. Sunny.

When we moved here I was glad for that. I was so tired of Southern rain, but now I find it hard to get excited for a new day when I know it will be just the same.

I come from a place with seasons – the year begins lying dormant under a frozen blanket and then it wakes with flowers bursting before the hot months come covering everything with humidity and green again. And then there is the fall.

Every California year I mourn the autumn. As a little girl my favorite month October was filled with brilliant crimson, orange and yellow leaves, covering the trees, floating through the crisp wind and gathering a carpet on the ground. Here there is just more blue and sunny, hot until the weather cools a bit to make a nod at winter and then return to persistent, endless summer.

Here in California when fog rolls in or there is a tiny rain shower we cherish it with latte’s and a day at home, but all the while I am sad because I know this bit of weather enveloping and holding us will move on and won’t soon return. I look at the grey and drizzle and wish for thunderclaps and rain pounding the windows. I want to see the power of a storm, to feel the thrill of being held safe within and glimpse the beauty that comes after.

My family has lived many of these storms in our lives. We have seen loss and we have weathered seasons of bitter cold and black storm clouds. I don’t know if I miss the variety, the death and redemption of the earthly seasons or if I just want the sky to weep more often with me. But when the rain falls down I feel the earth acknowledging the sorrow we have lived through and reminding me of it’s constant rebirth.

And the light after the rain – it’s an otherworldly glow that comes only after storm clouds have gathered and wet has cleaned the air.

This is how it is in everything. The light after the rain is fleeting but within is a glimpse of magic beyond rhythmless pleasant weather.

I miss actual rain, but I fear to see another of life’s storms. I made these photographs the night we had a sprinkling of rain, after the skies cleared. We have lived the storms, we are deep within life’s rhythm – working, birthing, seeing death, rebuilding, hoping, waiting, working.

I know what the light after the rain looks like and I long just to linger in it.


For more unplugged moments from other photographers head over to Childhood Unplugged

  • Monica Calderin - I know what you mean about missing the seasons. I spent half of my childhood growing up in Michigan. The fall was my absolute favorite season and I miss those colors so very much.

    I know I told you before, but I’m in love with the retro feel of these images. Takes me back to being a kid again.ReplyCancel

baby girl001-2

Sometimes I wake up and feel the stillness, I wonder if I’m empty again. I wait, trying just to breath when everything feels too quiet.

And then I feel her. She moves so deep within me. That pulse inside – the universe shifts – I feel her intertwined with my body and blood, nestled deep inside, everything that I am is protecting her. And yet I am completely out of control, this seed growing and growing takes no thought from myself. I don’t knit her together. I don’t form her blinking eyes, curling fingers or kicking feet. Yahweh does – the One who has always been the Creator and always will be. She is a seed I pressed down eager and hopeful into soft soil, praying a lovely bud would uncurl and grow up strong. That is all I have to do with the miracle.

Those years of knowing I would never hold a child again are starting to fade. Things that I was too afraid to even whisper, I’m starting to sing out rejoicing with others. I don’t flinch anymore when asked when my baby will arrive. I have enough hope now to look forward to that day. Her movements down deep have given me enough strength to gather a few little clothes and blankets. She walks with me, giving me the courage to wear a dress draped to show my belly swelling, inviting smiles and congratulations, the world sharing their tokens of hope and thanksgiving. I can receive them now, because I believe in miracles. I believe in a babe taking its first breath. I believe in children growing to know God’s love in this dark world. And I believe this world is always, ever a place of light even when hearts and families and nations are breaking, because God still speaks. Jesus plants seeds and hope and He never leaves. He has come and is coming again so that those who sow weeping will go out with songs of joy.

The first trimester I stumbled through a fog – of fear and fatigue, nausea and surprised hope. Her heart kept beating and I took hormones that increased the fog. I slept and ate and prayed and those months endless passed. The second trimester arrived like a clear day, announced she is a girl after so many boys birthed, and with it brought enough energy and hope to prepare a home for her. Now the third trimester is on the brink and it’s hard for me to think beyond the present day – maybe that is a gift in itself. What comes will be His gift, nothing more, nothing less.

In this moment I can rest to know that I am blessed to hold life within. I cradle a miracle between muscle and bone.

. . .

Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy! He who goes out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, bringing his sheaves with him.”

Psalm 126:5-6

  • Jennifer - So glad i found your blog, this touched me (it punched me really!) God is so good. I have been where you are and I’m standing on the other side. I pray for peace and joy to fill you during this season of growing and nurturing her. I command fear to flee in Jesus name. Father you are so faithful to fulfill your promises. Thank you Jesus!ReplyCancel


Every year they do Junior Lifeguard camp. Every year they become the next level of watermen. So proud of them and thankful for long summer days where they aren’t even close to plugged in. I can’t begin to show with my camera what they do in those five weeks. By the end I’m exhausted too, but every year I look forward to the rituals that are such a part of us now… field trips and family days, sandwich contests and bakeoffs, driving and bike riding to the beach, ice cream when they get home…

You can check out Childhood Unplugged for more inspiration and images this August.