Danielle Bullen's Blog

10.27.25

Frost came on the tail of a burst of autumn like we’ve rarely seen, bright and beautiful, streaking across mountains in details that the greatest lacework should envy. It colors the hills orange, where the sage grass shifts in the wind, earthy brown where leaves have fallen beneath once laden branches.

I love the deep russet of the oaks, the bold yellows of the beech trees, and the bright, vibrant colors of the maples that make your heart long for Eden.

Or rather, for a Greater Eden.

Dahlia plants lay in a heap, their tall, proud stalks a horrible brown beneath a killing frost, that brought more color to the world, by taking life out of it. Greens trickle back into roots, chilled rain falls from the sky, and summer is lost to autumn, alive with brilliant lights.

I have waited for Autumn, as one waits for evening; not because it will bring life, but because it will bring the light before the quiet, so that life can come again, with morning. As the quiet of night, and all that is dark and still precedes the dawn.

So comes Winter, a Herald, a bringer of Spring.

So comes Autumn, a Herald of Winter.

Darkness before light, night before dawn. Winter before Spring. And in Autumn, the dusk of the year, the world now sits, preparing for rest.

Preparing for celebrations.

Because the whole world knows that the best parties come after the sun has set, when hearts are quiet and ready to be glad, the work put away and done. The best celebrations come in Winter.

Today, there is anticipation in the air.
It’s neither glad, nor troubled, only waiting, and I wait with it, wait to see what the Lord will do.
Wait to see what glad things Autumn will bring like a blaze, before the gladness of Winter comes, cold and quiet, and ready to hear. I wait for stillness, and I wait for the season of glad tidings, when in the darkness, we celebrate the Greatest Light to ever come into the world, when all the world is covered with frost, and still. Waiting.

Waiting like the world waited for Jesus.

Waiting, like Winter waits for warmth.

Waiting, like Dawn waited for the Risen King.
The entire world waited with bated breath, crying out with birth pangs for the day that we now celebrate in winter, when Christ came, and death was broken, crushed in victory that cannot be tainted with time or seasons.

So, this fall, I sit and wait, in a garden full of death, watching the trees light up with the end of the joy of Summer, and all that it brought. I wait, knowing the Light has already come into the darkness.

I wait, knowing that fall is only a passing shadow, before glory.

I wait, knowing the Word has already been made flesh, and dwelt among us.

I wait knowing that we beheld His glory, glory as of the Only Begotten of the Father.

Leaves tumble from trees, alight with a fading glory.
But we wait for a Greater One, when Spring comes again.

9.12.25

A man passed away, shot on Wednesday. I remember where I was.

Words are thrown across screens, and I think back to years ago, when the world began to get darker in a way that could be charted. We saw the headlines. We read the news. We heard the words spoken; “If you do not bow the knee, you deserve to die.”

The words weren’t straight from most voices; they were veiled, tucked into other things said, “bigot, fascist, hateful. You are what’s wrong with the world. You deserve whatever you have coming to you.”

And men began to stand up. Began to speak.

Because this is the country we are raising our children in. The country we love.

“Hard times call forth brave men.”

I am a Christian. “I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth, and in Jesus Christ His Only Son, our Lord…” I was was chosen before the foundations of the world, not for anything I have done or will do, but because of the grace of that Immortal God, and for His glory.

And I am an American by that same grace. In this country, we have freedoms, freedoms that should be and are appreciated by many. We can read God’s Word. We can sing in public of His goodness. We can fly our country’s flag and set off fireworks and we can speak publicly with one another. That right is protected. It has been, since our country began.

But these last few years?

That right has been challenged. And it isn’t by us.

We have been told that if we challenge the ideas that are being pushed and are not based in reality, we hate our neighbor.

That if we tell them of Christ, we despise them.

That if we call the unborn a child, that we are blinded by our upholding of what is wrong with America, namely, upholding the systemic hatred of women.

If valuing human lives—the lives of little humans still in the womb where they should be safest, the lives of little boys and girls made in the image of God—if that is wrong in the eyes of the world, then may we stand against the world and stand firmly. We are not called to be friends with them, anyway. “Friendship with the world is enmity with God.” But we are called to love them.

We love our neighbor when we speak the truth. The end of their ideology is death. Death to those that disagree with them. Death to the unborn. Death to the children who go through horrific surgeries to try and be someone they were never made to be. And death to all those who are fed by their lies into taking their own lives. There are so many people out there living non-lives today, because they do not know the Giver of Life, and are clinging to a maskil of death.

The end of their beliefs—the belief that we are what we say we are—is a lifeless existence, one that leads rapidly toward the grave.

Our suicide rates bear witness to that.

We tell our men they have no value, then wonder why they won’t stand up for what they believe in and why they feel worthless.

We tell our women that their value is in persecuting their families, and then wonder why so many of them are bitter, selfish, angry and selling their bodies out for glances on the streets.

Our children are being indoctrinated. Our homes are being infiltrated. And we have been standing idly by, too afraid to make a scene.

Today, I raise a call.

May you be bold to speak the truth, counting others as more worthy than yourself, that you may speak it with humility. May you, ‘do justly, love mercy and walk humbly with your God.’ May you seek first His kingdom, and love Him with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength.

May our God raise up a generation that loves Him and loves their neighbor enough to speak the truth; fully, and un-minced. May we be that generation.

We need men of earnest conviction who are willing to lay down their lives for their God, their families, their country and their neighbor.

We need women who are willing to give up their wishes, offer up their lives as a joyful, willing sacrifice to care for those who are being led astray, and to defend the truth by our lives and by our hope and hospitality. That is one of the best witnesses we can offer, to be hospitable wherever we go, and by doing so show the grace of our Lord.  

We need children who love their homes, and love their God enough to seek His Word while they are yet young.

We need a church that is brave.

We failed, when we were called upon to say that all men are created equal, and endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights. The church lost the podium with the equal rights movement. It lost it again when feminism stood up, and we didn’t speak up to affirm and reject as we should.

Let’s take it back in our day.

Let’s speak for the truth, fight for our brother, and defend those who are being led astray.

We are called to be faithful all the days of our lives, with such time as the Lord gives us.

So, let’s use it to call America back to Christ. To raise families. To rejoice. To sing. To praise. And to stand firm and steadfast on the solid ground of the truth.

“Why do the nations rage and foolish peoples plot in vain?”

The Lord laughs at their plots. So, we have nothing to fear. Let us make a stand and keep our eyes heavenward, bowing the knee to our Lord and King, and keeping our backs straight and our heads bowed for the fight against the forces of darkness.

They have not prevailed.

They shall not today.

“We are called to be faithful all the days of our lives, with such time as the Lord gives us.”

May the Lord walk with you today.

9.12.25

A man passed away, shot on Wednesday. I remember where I was.

Words are thrown across screens, and I think back to years ago, when the world began to get darker in a way that could be charted. We saw the headlines. We read the news. We heard the words spoken; “If you do not bow the knee, you deserve to die.”

The words weren’t straight from most voices; they were veiled, tucked into other things said, “bigot, fascist, hateful. You are what’s wrong with the world. You deserve whatever you have coming to you.”

And men began to stand up. Began to speak.

Because this is the country we are raising our children in. The country we love.

Hard times call forth brave men.

I am a Christian. “I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth, and in Jesus Christ His Only Son, our Lord…” I was was chosen before the foundations of the world, not for anything I have done or will do, but because of the grace of that Immortal God, and for His glory.

And I am an American by that same grace. In this country, we have freedoms, freedoms that should be and are appreciated by many. We can read God’s Word. We can sing in public of His goodness. We can fly our country’s flag and set off fireworks and we can speak publicly with one another. That right is protected. It has been, since our country began.

But these last few years?

That right has been challenged. And it isn’t by us.

We have been told that if we challenge the ideas that are being pushed and are not based in reality, that we hate our neighbor.

That if we tell them of Christ, we despise them.

That if we call the unborn a child, that we are blinded by our upholding of what is wrong with America, namely, upholding the systemic hatred of women.

If valuing human lives—the lives of little humans still in the womb where they should be safest, little boys and girls made in the image of God—is wrong in the eyes of the world, then may we stand against the world and stand firmly. We are not called to be friends with them, anyway. “Friendship with the world is enmity with God.” But we are called to love them.

We love our neighbor when we speak the truth. The end of their ideology is death. Death to those that disagree with them. Death to the unborn. Death to the children who go through horrific surgeries to try and be someone they were never made to be. And death to all those who are fed by their lies into taking their own lives. There are so many people out there living non-lives today, because they do not know the Giver of Life, and are clinging to a maskil of death.

The end of their beliefs—the belief that we are what we say we are—is a lifeless existence, one that leads rapidly toward the grave.

Our suicide rates bear witness to that.

We tell our men they have no value, then wonder why they won’t stand up for what they believe in and why they feel worthless.

We tell our women that their value is in persecuting their families, and then wonder why so many of them are bitter, selfish, angry and selling their bodies out for glances on the streets.

Our children are being indoctrinated. Our homes are being infiltrated. And we have been standing idly by, too afraid to make a scene.

Today, I raise a call.

May you be bold to speak the truth, counting others as more worthy than yourself, that you may speak it with humility. May you, ‘do justly, love mercy and walk humbly with your God.’ May you seek first His kingdom, and love Him with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength.

May our God raise up a generation that loves Him and loves their neighbor enough to speak the truth; fully, and un-minced. May we be that generation.

We need men of earnest conviction who are willing to lay down their lives for their God, their families, their country and their neighbor.

We need women who are willing to give up their wishes, offer up their lives as a joyful, willing sacrifice to care for those who are being led astray, and to defend the truth by our lives and by our hope and hospitality. That is one of the best witnesses we can offer, to be hospitable wherever we go, and by doing so show the grace of our Lord.  

We need children who love their homes, and love their God enough to seek His Word while they are yet young.

We need a church that is brave.

We failed, when we were called upon to say that all men are created equal, and endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights. The church lost the podium with the equal rights movement. It lost it again when feminism stood up, and we didn’t speak up to affirm and reject as we should.

Let’s take it back in our day.

Let’s speak for the truth, fight for our brother, and defend those who are being led astray.

We are called to be faithful all the days of our lives, with such time as the Lord gives us.

So, let’s use it to call America back to Christ. To raise families. To rejoice. To sing. To praise. And to stand firm and steadfast on the solid ground of the truth.

“Why do the nations rage and foolish peoples plot in vain?”

The Lord laughs at their plots. So, we have nothing to fear. Let us make a stand and keep our eyes heavenward, bowing the knee to our Lord and King, and keeping our backs straight and our heads bowed for the fight against the forces of darkness.

They have not prevailed.

They shall not today.

“We are called to be faithful all the days of our lives, with such time as the Lord gives us.”

May the Lord walk with you today.

“Do not worry.”

 It’s not a wish in Scripture. “Do not worry.” A command, scrawled across a page, inspired by the Holy Spirit and written by a man, a thousand years ago.

 A command. Not an option for us. “Do not worry.”

I think about the times we give ourselves the freedom to worry, permission to sneak around commands because surely He didn’t really say?

 And there is it again, Eve asking the words the serpent first spoke, ‘did God really?’ Did God really say, ‘do not eat’?

 Did God really say, ‘do not worry?’

 Did God really say?

These words are written over and over, more than 300 times in Scripture, the command to not worry, not be anxious, not fear. “Do not fear,” says the Lord, and we say, ‘but what if?’

But what if tomorrow is not what we expect?

 But what if our dreams are shattered?

 But what if there is not enough?

But what if death calls?

But what if the economy fails, or our children grow hungry or if or if or if. “Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Sufficient for the day is its own troubles.”

In March, I consider the words spoken by a man wiser in years and in words. He spoke, repeating what was said by the Only Wise King. “Consider the lilies of the field.” March brings flowers and I do consider. Words chant over in my head, ‘do not worry.’ I forget them and the come back by the grace of the same God Who made these flowers and all words. ‘Do not worry.’ Worrying is easy. But each day in March brings more flowers, and I am challenged, challenged in my mind, in my prayer, in my hope, in my trouble. “Do not worry.”

 We offer our prayers up to Him, our hopes and dreams and troubles. But offering is not the same as anxiousness, and there is a choice here. Do we want to go on sinning, or to pursue—to pursue peace, to pursue righteousness, to pursue Him?

“Consider the birds of the air, how they neither toil nor reap… does your Heavenly Father not love you more than these?” Does He? Do I believe that He does love these people He made in His Own Image, that He poured out His blood for, more than the birds of the air? The same birds that He promises never fall to the ground without His will?

 I question, and I know, ‘I believe, Father, help my unbelief.’ Because anxiety, though painful, is easier than leaving it in hands that were pierced for me, and worry is a gateway to a façade of the control I don’t want to give up.

By worrying, do I add control?

 By worrying, do I grow taller?

 By worrying, do I add one cubit to my height?

I am still here, 5’3 and some change, and I have worried almost all my life. I still worry beneath His perfect peace. I still rise up early and stay up late, toiling, toiling, toiling because what if?

What if God is true? What if He speaks truly?

 What if He has this all within His hands?

 What if tomorrow is His and the days to come?

What if hopes and dreams and marriage and kids and joys and sorrows and pain and grief and mountains and valleys and laughter and birth and life and death are all His, to do with as He wills, and He is exactly Who He says He is?

 What if the call to not worry is a command, and one we can trust Him in, as the Speaker Who gives those words and upholds the world by the Power of His Word?

We serve a God Who never fails, so in the darkness He will be there, and in the light too. in the shadows and pain and hurt and sorrow and yes, in the joy and goodness too, for He is the God Who gives good gifts and makes beauty from ashes, we can trust in Him. And we should.

Has He ever failed?

Is He ever untrustworthy?

Can He speak and not fulfill?

What a God we serve, that He would uphold us, we who are dust, and give grace to the weary and worrisome.  He gives grace to the fallen and uplifted. He gives grace to the broken and the joyful and He walks with us through all the valleys and hills, upholding us by His Word.

So in those valleys, birds fly and the command rings out true, because He is true.

‘Do not worry.’

This book I am holding is not my first book.

 I have two others, completed and sitting untouched that have never seen the light of day, and until almost exactly a year ago, I was planning for this one to join them.
I had a plan: I was going to finish it, try editing through it for the first time, just for experience, and then be on my merry way, beginning another work that would not be seen for ten or twenty years, until the time felt right or maybe my kids were grown.
But, that was not God’s plan. 

Last January (‘22) I was talking to a very dear dad friend of mine, who has been like a mentor to me and he randomly turned to me and asked, “why haven’t you published a book yet?” 
I probably turned red, and I know I wanted to ask him a hundred questions of why, but all that came out of my mouth was a bland, foolish protest; “but you haven’t read any of my books yet!”

I went home that night, and I prayed on my way home, and I prayed at home. I’d thought of publishing, but now? It was January and I knew life in the summer was looking to be crazy. I had so much to do. Who on earth would buy a book I published anyway? 

I prayed. And I thought about putting it away. And I prayed somemore.
A week later, I started looking into publishing. I was going to do it. And I was going to do it by November.
I didn’t do it by November.

If anyone ever tells you a story comes out of a single thing, they are either looking at it in a strange way, or they are lying. That would be like saying that you came out of just one thing, though in a much smaller way. Stories come out of a hundred, thousand things. And people are made up of hundreds of stories that have made them who they are, day by day by the grace of God.
This story is no different.
I first starting writing Frost in October, at the end of a year that was hard and long and dark. God’s faithfulness was ever so present in that year, and cannot be understated, but I was recovering from some major things and I felt worn out. Frost was begun in an effort to start writing again after months of not, to have something to work toward, to work on, spurred on by two important men in my life who I don’t think knew they were involved in it, my older brother and the same mentor friend I mentioned before. I needed something to work towards again, and they both knew that, and this book was that.

I penned the first words of it in the back of a chunky notebook about a different place in that world in October, and then I scrawled the first few words in another notebook and putting pen to paper I wrote this opening line; “there is a stream that runs down to a cabin, from the tops of the Norame mountain range.” Or something like that. And then a week later, I scraped it and started over again, and then scraped that and started over again. I had one simple quote, scrawled crookedly in the back of that first notebook that belonged to another project, years old, and I started over again. I wasn’t sure about it anymore, but the idea was set enough and so I set to work, set a deadline.

 This book was written all over the country. In the plains of Kansas, and on a ranch in Colorado. In my favorite coffee shop in Abingdon that is the same age as this story, opening only a few weeks after the first lines were written. Between weddings and on the roads of Oregon where I got distracted by the evergreens and bridges. 
Parts of it were penned in the backseat of my car, in the dark and the crevices of Utah at night, and I tried to write in Montana, but got distracted by mountains and tea. I scrawled a few words crossing Wyoming and I wrote page after page in our Virginia farmhouse, interrupted by the voices of family and the stories they had from normal life and laughter.
And I wrote in a beach house in Florida, while my grandfather still breathed downstairs.

If I’m being honest, this book is really only here, not because I was persistant, but because two times in the last three years, I got a dumb idea and then a kick with it, either before or after. And I ran with it, like an idiot. And I failed, so, so many times. And I found God to be more than sufficient each time. 
In December of 2020, I decided I was going to write an entire book in a month to surprise my sister Phoebe who had just read one of my other books and enjoyed it. I thought it was a great idea. Many people have written a book in just one month.
And you want to guess?
At the end of that month, I had 20,000 words and hundreds of ways to not write anything. So I told my sister, who had known nothing of it, that I was going to have a book for her at the end of January. And by the end of January I mean October. The end of October. After months of travel and learning to see beauty again and of God’s grace and laughter and His wonders making me lose my own voice at the sight of them.

Today, this book is here because God is faithful to those who make big messes and don’t know what they are doing but pursue Him.
It’s here, because there is grace in brokenness and pain.
It’s here because wounds do not heal themselves and relationships take work, they are made to, like most of the best things in life are.

And it’s here because we get to share what we learn, what we know. That is what we strive to do each day of our lives, for better or worse, for good or for ill. It’s here because winter is beautiful. I learned that through the words of a friend and God’s grace that is new in the morning, that is just as abundant in the quiet places, in skies that are still just as full of stars in summer, but in the winter months with strangely clear skies and dark silence, you can see them a little better.
Because there is rest in those quiet things.
Because sometimes, we have to learn stillness through hard things—through sharp breaths and long winters and frost and the death of living things.
And sometimes in all the living and striving and running and doing, we forget how to tend the things right in front of us, the simple in the every day life, and the small moments.

It’s here, mostly, because God is good.

This was a story born out of adversity, out of darkness and stillness and long nights, and I am honored to get to share it with all of you guys now, and to get to hear your thoughts and stories about it. It’s been more of a joy than I can express, and it is such an honor to be here with you guys today, and to get to share this time with you to talk about this story.

I think, we often worry too much about being original. Because the fact of the matter, is that we are not.

And the other hard fact is that, the harder we try to be original, the less we are.

In a world full of men and women who have been given such beautiful gifts to use, designed by a Creator Who made us with the ability to imitate Him in this, there is so much that is good and beautiful that is created every day. That alone can make it feel intimidating to take up your pen and sketch out a sparrow, because you are doing something that has been done a hundred, thousand times before throughout all time; man trying to capture what he sees, trying to capture beauty.

When you pick up your knife, that block of wood in your hands, there is the question lodged in the back of your mind—with this be worth it? Will anyone like it? And honestly, if you are doing it for ‘anyone’ to like it, they probably won’t. But the gravity of creating doesn’t come from the hope that someone out there, somewhere will like it, but in the sheer joy of creating something worth creating. Something that in some way, reflects this haunting, beautiful tune that all of creation has been singing throughout all time.

When we create, it will hopefully remind others of the beauty that is already there in a real, tangible way that can stand in your home for decades upon decades, a reminder of what is good, what is praiseworthy and what is true through our King. That, is an worthwhile goal to take up your pen—or your needle or your camera or your laptop or paintbrush or your knife—for. Because we get to remind others of the good and the everlasting faithfulness of God that is stretched out throughout all of creation.

Little things, well made, little reminders. We serve as those with hope. We serve as those with joy.

Take heart; take courage.

We serve as those with a good and real hope in a good and real King, Who made all the beauty in this world in a million practical things, because He could, and for His glory. I truly do not believe that there is a person out there who does not have a gift they could use to encourage and uplift those around them, to help them take courage.

And yet too often, we put them aside, pretending that the constant flow of instant media that we see everywhere is more worthwhile. But, we have these gifts.

We get to use skills and talents that we have. we get to cultivate them to the joy of our King in everyday life, to fill and bless the lives of those around us in small, real, honest ways. We get to be diligent in these little things, each and every day of our lives as we walk onward, and that is a joy. I am thankful that we know The God Who does not despise little things, but treasures them, and not only treasures them, but blesses and honors us for these small, small services, as though we were not still so, so far away from righteousness.

How gracious, how truly gracious is He, not to despise these small things, but to take them with joy, and yet we wonder if they will have value to anyone. “He who is faithful in the little…”

Take up your knife. Carve the wood. Take up your bowl. Knead the bread. Take up your pen. Write the song. Take up your voice. Praise our Lord. We get to serve Him today. And that is a glorious, beautiful thing. We get to serve Him with these little things and the big alike, and in doing that, we get to, in all these little ways, encourage His people through all the days we walk on this earth, in a million small ways. So do not worry about if it is original or unique. Take up your pencil and do it for the glory of God, and to the praise of His Name, taking up faithfulness.

What a joy that is.

Amen.

So, thought that I’ve been mulling over this year.

You can be joyfully present, & abundant in singleness, & still pray for marriage.

Longing for marriage is not a bad thing. It can be a good thing, as marriage is something that God has ordained, and has said, since the beginning, is good. Even very good. The problem comes in, when eyes get fixed on it, and we make the prayer for the gift an idol, and become fixated on it.

But, the thing I am realizing this year is that it can go both ways. We can let the longing become an idol, & we can let the fear of it become an idol. It's easy to sit in fear of the future, and to then replace the hope and knowledge of God's goodness with the fear of things that are so unknown, like marriage.

Our God is good. He has never wasted a season. He will never waste a season, not in your life or in anyone's life that is yet unknown.

We can trust His perfect plan, because we can trust Him--He is Who He says He is.

This time? It’s not an in between. It’s a full season,  and this season? It's not wasted. And we can acknowledge the longing we have for a thing yet to come, and be joyfully, passionately, wholly seeking Him and His Kingdom here.

I think sometimes we forget that we are not who we will be.

In stories, characters grow quickly, turning into the person they will become; reaching pillar points & so much more in many ways that are fast, furiously fast, churning with a time almost unmatchable.

There are times when you grow quickly.

But those times, are few and far between in the walking of life.

More often than not, our growth come slowly. And often at high cost. The Master Crafter has only just begun shaping us into who we will be, now. We are young, & sometimes that hurts, & sometimes we forget that time in this broken world is made to pass, & that as Christians, we are to get better with age, as we learn and grow each day. We cannot become who we will be in a moment.

It takes time, to shape away the edges, the lumps, the hardness. We are still barely shaped clay, I think. I wonder, if that is maybe why He gives us the softness of face and flesh when we are young, that our outward beauty would balance the war that goes on within, as man learns how to become & to be, the growing & stretching of age that creates beauty in war-hardened hearts & bends wills to the joy of God in ways that cannot be known by merely waiting.

When wrinkles come & time weathers, joy does too.
Hearts become softer or harder. We are not who we will be.
Patience with this is hard, especially today.

We want to be done. We want to be good at patience. We want to not fail, not harm with our words, not stumble with our eyes & ears. Not to be led astray.

And by grace, we should strive for that with all that we are each day, but strive for it, in that we are pursuing Jesus, ardently pursuing our King, that we might know Him, & become more in the likeness of His Son each day. So strive, seek, pursue, rejoice, run after, engage, honor, recognize, respect, & look to those that are pursuing God, & becoming gentle & gracious still, those who are older, wiser, softer, who are a little more like Jesus, & be encouraged. God has made it to take time.

Do not become discouraged, & do not lay down your sword. We are called to a glorious Kingdom, & it is good. For He is good.

We are not now, who we will be.