The Beautiful Purpose Podcast

Season two begins with an invitation to slow down, step outside, and notice what God is doing—both in creation and within your own heart.As winter gives way to spring, we reflect on how God brings healing and renewal through the natural world, and how moments of stillness can open the door to deeper intimacy with Him.In this episode, Bethany shares from her own “wilderness” season and the quiet hope found in the first signs of life returning—reminding us that even when things feel frozen or uncertain, new life is still unfolding.Wherever you find yourself—emerging from a hard season or still walking through it—you’re invited to come along, slow down, and rediscover the steady, restoring love of God.Thanks for listening! I'd love to connect on Instagram at @beautiful_purpose_writing or Substack at Wildflowers in the Wilderness. You can also reach out on my website, bethanypeck.org Get full access to Wildflowers in the Wilderness at wildernesswildflowers.substack.com/subscribe

Wow! It’s the final episode of the first season of the Beautiful Purpose Podcast! Thanks for listening (or even just encouraging this new creative venture!)For this last conversation on how to wait well, we’re discussing embodiment through joy and play. I hope it will encourage you!The recent snow in Maryland was a sweet time of play for me with my dog Hunter, reminiscent of days with two dogs in the snow! And oh did they love snowballs! In the early days of my trauma, pain often felt overwhelming and sometimes those winter walks with snowballs, was simply a sweet reprieve from the ache. Year after year, winter after winter, my body and soul continue to heal, and the playtime became more vigorous, and more a sign of hope growing. Today’s poem recounts that :) The Delight of Dogs in the SnowA brisk morning chill hit my cheekswhile my gloved handsformed perfectly packed balls of snow,as my rambunctious companions ran circles around me.The snowballs fueled fascination,as I threw one after another to, and at, them.These clever creatures would search for the remainsof the fallen flakes in the vastness of further fluff.Oh did I laugh.And how good these giggles felt!Bubbles of surprise and joyat the silliness of such animals, my friends.What fun and pleasure,as morning light illuminated my embraceof rest and releasing,the simple goodness of a newly dawning day,learning to accept such giftsto be comfortable with these feelingsand safe in my jacketed skin.Nowhere to go, but to be present.Nothing to do, but just to be.No one to please, but only me.Just my precious Pointers,for a morning of play,of hope embodied,with a new song of gladness on my lips.And here’s a gif of both the dogs in 2022, before my precious Scout died unexpectedly and too soon…Thank you friends for your support and encouragement, your reading and your listening. Wishing you a very Merry Christmas! Get full access to Wildflowers in the Wilderness at wildernesswildflowers.substack.com/subscribe

Hello, friends! I’m Bethany, and I’m so glad you’re here! This December, I’ve been sharing a biweekly podcast series on Advent and waiting… with an encouragement to spend time in nature and even a challenge to write a poem a day!For the final two weeks of this first podcast season (and I’m praying and dreaming about the future of this venture!), we’ve been talking about how to wait well…for Christ’s return, and our own hopes and dreams in the here and now. Here’s my taking on looking for the growing light in our lives…Sight and the SoulThe nights have been long,like my soul has felt tooand the cold has kept meunder bed coverswhile my heart has needed hibernation.I’ve been both afraidand befriending of the winter,wondering when the season of darkness will endwhile wishing I could keep cocooning,letting the rest restore to my core.But my canine companionhas pulled me from my comforton this morningand I’m stronger now,to set out alone,while he runs circles,and me, moving slowly, yet alive,gratitude grounding my stepsthat crunch the crystals of frosted terrainglittering like the stars that are starting to dim.In the depth of my eyeswhere sight signals emotion,the awakening brightnesssparks something warmas I watch for the dawn.What is it? I wonder,welcoming first light, as myoptic nerves receive the softening of deep blues,while sending a deeper messagethat starts to seep into my soul.The sun is just on the horizon now,and the night I once thought endlesshas let me leave shadows behind,while my slowed breath strengthened my lungsso I’m able to absorb the chill,and stretch my legs to go forward.All of me now knows it,the growing lightglows from within toofor a new day will soon be here.Gazing east, blazing light breaks,as beams of light filter throughtree limbs lifted like arms of praiseand every fiber of my beinghums along a song of wonder,for it’s not just Christmas morn,light has come to my life again.With eyes flitting for the brilliance,and my skin nipped by frosted air,this awaited day, these sensations showhow hope is enfleshed.Thanks for listening and happy poem writing! Get full access to Wildflowers in the Wilderness at wildernesswildflowers.substack.com/subscribe

Beware of the brambles and thorns.Do you think that sometimes our suffering can blind us to our sin? It’s something I’ve reflected on a lot during my years recovering from betrayal, abuse, divorce, and a season of chronic pain. Yes, our suffering is often unexplainable and unjust, and yet… God still calls us to live obediently. Thanks for checking out this new podcasting venture, and today’s discussion on waiting well!Isaiah 96 For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders.And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.7 Of the greatness of his government and peace there will be no end.He will reign on David’s throne and over his kingdom,establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and forever.The zeal of the Lord Almighty will accomplish this. Get full access to Wildflowers in the Wilderness at wildernesswildflowers.substack.com/subscribe

While we wait for Christ’s return… while we wait for answers, relief, dreams, and healing… how do we wait well?Biblical lament is a foundation.Less are hearts become frozen…. a poem of mine:DethawingI. A reminder herethoughts that trail there,and I can sense,the temperature dropping,cooling in my heart.Loneliness fills the next day,while aloneness,starts to suffocate,taking the warm breath of life,with it, away from me.The change in the air,can be felt now.Fear and pain taunt;they prick every part of my body,a cold wind that stings.I am too afraid to relive,to risk again;too tender to try,this human thing,vulnerable embodiment.It’s frigid now;And I welcome it,the only way to survive,in this climate,I think.A freeze begins;Layer after layer of ice,Over my heart;the protection,I welcome.This frozen state,within me,is the right thing,for my deeply felt feelings,too tender to try anymore.The ice, overcomes;I don’t fight it.The weight is heavy inside;but at least I am safe,it seems.II.I’m fallingfalling,away from reality,the weight of a heart of ice,that I’ve allowed toovercome me,is too much to bear.A burdenthat I cannot carry,it pulls me,plunging medown,down,to depths,that cannot be navigated.All that stops me,is colliding,smashing into theice castlesI’ve built around me,places to house my memories,protect my grief,to keep it out of me,but still close by.And as ice collides with ice,a breaking begins.III.There’s a light,this morning,as I sit among the shards,forced to be still,from the wreckage.Sunshine hits the brokeness,these cracked pieces of ice,of my glacier heart,capturing color,reflections of beauty,that catch my eye.So fragile,like glass,I hold these pieces,with caution,as tears fall,touching,every painful piece of brokenness.A strange beauty,is becoming,in this mess,as I see and behold;a gratitude,to still be.My protective layering,melting away,and I am raw,frightened of what might touch me;and that’s when the colors cascade,I cry, at the beauty;seeping into my skin,and I let myself feel. Get full access to Wildflowers in the Wilderness at wildernesswildflowers.substack.com/subscribe

A walk in the woods through winter can feel a bit drab, especially right at the beginning when it feels like summer and fall just left, and now it’s 19 degrees and snowing!That’s why I love looking for the signs of life — like the evergreen leaves of the mountain laurel.I walked through it this weekend, visiting my sister, talking of troubles and heartache. Longing for life and healing and hope. Waiting, waiting, waiting…Do you feel the weight of waiting this Advent, too? When we’re walking through seasons of deep suffering — sometimes long, long, never ending experiences — hope can feel far off. I’ve been there. The dark pit when I thought I’d never get out. And even though I am removed from the chaos of an abusive marriage, betrayal, divorce, and chronic pain… the clouds of grief often still feel omnipresent. Can I be honest, friends? There have been days, when the hope of Christ’s return, living in the New Kingdom in glory one day in my resurrected body has been the only hope to keep me going.I wonder if that’s how it’s supposed to be?Yes, there is good in this world! Of course! God created us for relationship and joy and delight! But the brokenness can be so raw, so utterly devastating… and the lies of shame so pernicious… plus, until he returns or calls us home, we’re prone to sin and wander. But one day there will be freedom! The hope of resurrection refines my soul, so I can release the grip I have on the vision for “my” life.“I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. 19 For the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed. 20 For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope 21 that[h] the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God.” - Romans 8:18-21Even in the here and now, there are glimpses of redemption too. That’s why I love looking to the mountain laurel in winter… Poem excerpt from “Mountain Laurel Living.” Read the rest at The Way Back to Ourselves HERE.Through the decay of autumn,and then amidst the snow,I watch and wait;drawing strength from their evergreensigns of life.I hope these words, and the podcast conversation, can be a spark of hope. Throughout this first (!) season of the Beautiful Purpose Podcast, we’re talking about nature, and writing, and how these gifts can help us draw nearer to God through the waiting.I’ve also shared my December poem-a-day challenge! I started writing a poem a day in December years ago while walking through pain, and it’s been such a soul-enriching experience that I wanted to share. Blessings, friends, and reach out if you need any words of hope — I pray my life is a little sprig of mountain laurel too. Get full access to Wildflowers in the Wilderness at wildernesswildflowers.substack.com/subscribe

If Advent is about waiting -- what are we waiting for?Thanks for journeying with my writing and storytelling in this new podcast adventure, friends! Thank you for reading, listening, and downloading! I’d love to hear what you think, and thank you for sharing!Celebrating the birth of Christ is about more than a sanitized Christmas story. Jesus was the promised messiah, and his coming was the fulfillment of centuries of prophecies. Every word of prophecy came to be — all in God’s plan for redemption of his sons and daughters — we can trust Him as a Covenant-Keeper. For a deeper dive into the prophecies about Jesus, check out this article from BibleProject: Jesus is the Promised Messiah. They also have a great podcast series on Advent, and I learned so much from this episode on hope! In the waiting of our own stories, we can trust Him, too. Our stories, are part of God’s story — that gives me relief, that I’m not at the center. He works out every little detail, even in our suffering, and later this week we’ll talk about that hope more!During this Advent season, I’m inviting you to experience nature — yes, even if it’s cold (safely, of course!), to slow down, and let the thoughts and emotions that are stirred pour out on paper as an avenue of connecting with the Lord. Feel free to join in the poem-a-day writing challenge! (And I’d love to hear what you create, and how the Lord speaks to you!)From my story on “geese peace” this episode, here’s my offering from a December sunset walk, words I needed to preach to myself on hope and trust.Opal Orb, Hope for Waiting HeartsCocooned in soft down,knit hat on my headand fuzzy boots on my feet,I step into the crisp air of December’s dusk.The coolness exhilarates my lungs,laughing with gratitudeat the Lord’s beauty painted in the sky,and there the moon rises eastward,an orb of opal light, amidstpastel pink blending in to blue,its fullness declaring the goodness of God.Starlings scatter across the expanse,singing a song of praise, in choruswith migrating geese,an invitation to trustthe Lord’s gentle leading,and his generous hand guidingto the land of restoration,where my tears have been bottled,stored to water the coming harvest of joy.Though the sun to the west has now set,my heart rises with hope.Thanks for connecting, friends. Thinking of you and praying for you!Blessings on your beauty hunting, writing, and waiting on the Lord 💛 Get full access to Wildflowers in the Wilderness at wildernesswildflowers.substack.com/subscribe

Waiting isn’t a game. Sometimes the seasons are so dark, that even hope can feel distant. As David describes the taunts in Psalm 31 - “terror on every side.”There is no shame if you question hope some days, my friend. I’ve been there too, and still have moments where pain feels crushing. From a little poem last year at this time…Some daysthe only thingis just to stay aliveto exist,to breathe, to stay alive,awaiting the dawnof another morn,believing that better,is being born.An acorn was once that for me. God’s tangible hand to remind me of the goodness of my body, to push me to persevere with fires still to be fought. And writing’s been that too — my pen a torch, to light my way out of the darkness. These gifts of nature and words can be cultivated into practices, disciplines that draw us nearer to God, the Father, who sent His son in human flesh to know the darkness that we walk through. 12 I am forgotten as though I were dead; I have become like broken pottery.13 For I hear many whispering, “Terror on every side!”They conspire against me and plot to take my life.14 But I trust in you, Lord; I say, “You are my God.”15 My times are in your hands; deliver me from the hands of my enemies, from those who pursue me.16 Let your face shine on your servant; save me in your unfailing love. - Psalm 31You are not alone, my friend. There are people who care, please reach out (you can send me a message too). And most of all, our Suffering Savior, who was born in Bethlehem amidst mess and mayhem, and went to the Cross, abused and crucified. But he conquered death, and will raise our bodies in glory one day. And today, he gives acorns, and cold air, and holly branches for beauty — and in a few months, spring.Let these prompts lead you to Him: * What feels heavy today?* What’s your acorn? What tangibly helps to keep you going (maybe that’s the subject for a poem)* What do you want God to hear from your heart? Get full access to Wildflowers in the Wilderness at wildernesswildflowers.substack.com/subscribe

Advent is all about waiting. For so long the Israelites waiting for the Messiah to come.Then he arrived — in a messy, lonely birth in Bethlehem. Today, we’ll celebrate Christmas in four weeks to celebrate the incarnation, of God becoming flesh. But we’re still waiting, now for Christ’s return.And don’t we long for his coming again? Because things are not right with this world. We ache and suffer and wonder when relief will come. I feel that this season, and I’m sure you do too.In this first season of the Beautiful Purpose Podcast, we’re exploring what it means to wait, and how creation and the spiritual discipline of writing can invite the Lord in to hour heartache so that we can find peace and hope in the waiting. “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.” - Revelation 3:20Writing is that opening of the door, so I hope you’ll join me in this Advent practice of writing a poem a day. You can read more of the inspiration HERE, or listen to episode 1! Get full access to Wildflowers in the Wilderness at wildernesswildflowers.substack.com/subscribe

I find myself in a liminal space and I want to invite you along as I journey the path ahead. And it’s why I want to share with you about what’s new coming to my Substack…The heavens were open as I stepped into the woods with a crunch underfoot, and the mostly-bare branches sketched across a stratus sky. It will be months again till a canopy covers me on my walks. I sensed a liminal space – not just in between fall and winter with a crispness in the air but still 50 degrees, not just dusk with distant lights appearing, not just breaths closer to the atmosphere thanks to the leave-less trees, but something happening in my soul too.My past is still there, but I’m longing to leave it behind.As I descended a steep incline, deeper into my woodland trail, the trees releasing left me feeling exposed, open. And then in a flash out of nowhere – and I’ll never know if those moments are to be blamed on my brain or a dart from the devil – the date dawned on me. This is the day your marriage unraveled, I remembered, the day the Lord’s light came to your husband’s indiscretions in the darkness. The beginning of a fortnight’s onslaught of information so devastating, of lies so licentious, and my awakening to powerful people cowering and covering, leaving me exposed, traumatized, and trying to contact an attorney after hours on a Friday night for help.“He reveals deep and hidden things; he knows what is in the darkness, and the light dwells with him.” - Daniel 2:22I paused as a doe bounced through the woods ahead of me, her tail white against the umber palette, and the sound of the creek below provided a humming-like peace.I’m not there anymore, I said aloud, looking out from the top of the hill. I could have picked up speed rolling towards the bottom, along with descending into the memories, the trauma of my chaos eight years ago. But as I felt my brain start to spin, and my stomach twist, I stood athwart to my thoughts. Again aloud even if it was as whisper I declared, Your blood covers me, Father. I’m not going back. Today I am safe. I am moving ahead.Fallen sycamore leaves, curling and crushing lay before me, as I admired puffs of gone-to-seed golden rod, little wisps I’d like to let loose into the wind like a prayer. The small footbridge where I often find myself pausing, led me across the creek, a rush of water constantly running, always there for me on every one of my walks with sounds of serenity to drown out internal noise.Then a patch of sweetgum trees greeted me, still holding doggedly to their vibrant crimson and aubergine star-like leaves in the open meadow where wild black-eyed susans delighted me months ago while suffering from a triggering episode that left me dysregulated and drowning. Today was different, thank you God, I chirped along with sparrows and other cheery birds.If you’re new here to my little Substack corner of the world, welcome. I’m Bethany, and I’m so glad you’re here. I just spent the last year documenting turning 40, and wrestling with shades of suffering after divorce, and the ensuing years of recovery from that destructive marriage. Then there were other layers, the loneliness of singleness and unfulfilled dreams of motherhood. Some days over the past decade I didn’t want to go on, but God always provided wildflowers through the wilderness – glimpses of beauty and healing moments that showed me his love and his healing power.Now it’s a new season. I enter the next decade with no connection to that past life, aside from my firebranded self, stronger yet softer, wiser yet more wildly ready for adventure, happier and hungrier for only the things of God than ever.There on that late fall walk I noticed the openness, how much farther I could see because of what the trees lost, and I feel their releasing deeply:I can see moreclearly, fartherbecause of what’sbeen lost.Like the leavesreleased,I’ve learned to let go,to look beyond my canopy,to feel safewith just my open armsYes, I have lost a lot, and ghosts of the past still haunt. But I’m turning a corner from the days when shame silenced me. Even this fall, I experienced something that could have sent me spiraling, but I’m sensing the shift in me thanks to God’s strengthened armor.My identity is beloved. No stain, abuse, divorce, or sin can steal that from me.I long to live loved, joyfully, noticing every wildflower in this wilderness exile of life where I walk with heartache and external circumstances I didn’t expect. But my heart is singing a new song, even if some days are a little softer, hope is holding me afloat.What does that mean for you, my dear readers?I will be sharing stories, poems, and resources on living loved, our true identity as followers of Christ, particularly through the lens of overcoming disappointment, grief, trauma, and abuse. Not from a “how-to” perspective like I have it all together, but “here’s how I’m handling the threats” to my identity and leaning into this new season, as a friend jogging alongside you.You can also continue to find me on Instagram, my little corner there called Beautiful Purpose Writing, where I share beauty from creation, poems, prose, and thoughts that invite you closer to God to find healing and peace through nature.PLUS, I’m starting a podcast! In the Beautiful Purpose Podcast we’ll explore how God brings healing and peace through his creation. When we tend to our bodies and rest in the beauty of nature, our hearts can awaken to the steadfast love God has for us. That’s the beautiful purpose I believe he invites each of us into – and I hope you’ll find it meaningful!The first season will look at pairing the contemplative practices of attentiveness and noticing in nature with the spiritual discipline of writing.Those open arms I referenced in my poem are ones that I have grieved for many years. But open arms also mean they are ready to be filled, to stretch out and reach others in ways that otherwise may not have been possible.Mostly, I’m ready to receive God’s love. I’m tired of being weighed down by shame. I want to step into his light more and more.Advent feels the perfect season to do that – one of waiting. One of darkness, ready to be pierced by the light. Friend I hope my writing, podcasting, photography, my very life is a light to you too. All glory to God.“If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,”even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.” - Psalm 139:11-12 Get full access to Wildflowers in the Wilderness at wildernesswildflowers.substack.com/subscribe