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You have already been called out of the tomb. The grave clothes are not who you are. A reflection on John 11:44 and 2 Corinthians 4 — for anyone who needs permission to walk.

"Be still, and know that I am God." — Psalm 46:10 This was the first bracelet I ever made for Still & Known. In a way, it’s the reason the whole collection exists. Be Still Bracelet Before I designed anything, I had the name. Still & Known came from this verse — Psalm 46:10. Be still, and know that I am God. There is something about those words that has always felt like an anchor to me. Not a command to be passive, but an invitation to stop striving long enough to remember wh

Chrysanthemum Stones Some stones are beautiful because of their color. Some because of their clarity or shine. Chrysanthemum stone is beautiful because of what it remembers. Look closely at a piece of chrysanthemum stone and you’ll see it immediately: white or cream-colored mineral formations radiating outward from a center point, spreading through a dark base of black or deep brown. They look exactly like chrysanthemum blossoms — delicate, symmetrical, impossibly detailed. A

I first came across galaxy agate while browsing for materials online. It stopped me immediately — not because it was flashy, not because it demanded attention, but because it looked like it had something to say. Galaxy agate belongs to the agate family, a variety of chalcedony formed over millions of years as mineral-rich water slowly filled the cavities of volcanic rock. What makes galaxy agate distinctive is its surface: rough, unpolished, almost raw in the way it presents

It started with a stone that stopped me in my tracks. Cloud quartz has a quality that’s hard to describe. It’s translucent but not clear. There’s a soft haziness within it, like light diffused through morning fog. When I first came across it, I felt an immediate pull. There was something poetic about it. Something contemplative. But I also noticed another aspect. On its own, cloud quartz carries a certain heaviness. Its grey, misty quality can tip toward melancholy. It’s beau

Most Christian jewelry has a cross on it. So when people find out that Still & Known offers the cross as an optional add-on — not a default — they sometimes ask why. The answer starts with design, and ends with something a little deeper. On the design side: not every bracelet needs a charm. Some pieces are already complete — the stones, the colors, the proportions all work together in a way that feels whole. Adding a charm to those would be one element too many, something tha

"Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances." — 1 Thessalonians 5:16–18 I’ve been sitting with these verses lately, and I’ll be honest: they are not easy ones to hold. On a good day, they feel like an invitation. A reminder to stay oriented toward grace, to keep the line of conversation with God open, to notice what is good even when things are hard. I believe all of that. But I’ve also sat with people who are in a kind of suffering that doesn’t lift.

Some stones are beautiful because of their color. Others shine due to their shape or luster. However, cherry blossom agate captivates me for a different reason. It reveals a hidden beauty that lies within. When I examine a piece of cherry blossom agate, I notice small clusters of white crystalline formations blooming through its base color. They resemble delicate flower blossoms—irregular, intricate, and almost impossibly detailed. These formations are not painted or carved.

"I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made." — Psalm 139:14 My husband mentioned this verse to me recently, almost in passing. But it stayed with me for days. Fearfully and wonderfully made. The idea that every person is not an accident, not a copy, not produced in quantity—but carefully, intentionally, lovingly formed. Known before being named. Held in mind before taking shape. I thought about that while I was working on a bracelet one evening. And I realized:

"Do everything without grumbling or arguing." — Philippians 2:14 I’ve been sitting with this verse lately. On the surface it sounds like a simple instruction—just stop complaining. But the more I think about it, the more I believe it’s pointing at something deeper than behavior. It’s pointing at the heart underneath the behavior. Why do we complain? I think, if we’re honest, it’s often because we feel we deserve better. That our time is being wasted, our efforts unrecognized,

"For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light." — Ephesians 5:8 Maybe you know someone who has come a long way. Or maybe you are that person. Someone who has lived through a season so heavy it felt like it would never lift. A depression that lasted too long. A loss that changed everything. A version of yourself you’re still learning to leave behind. And then, slowly—not all at once, and not without cost—something shifted. The darkne

"Fan into flame the gift of God." — 2 Timothy 1:6 Paul wrote these words to Timothy, a young man he loved like a son. Timothy was gifted, but he was also hesitant—prone to holding back, to staying quiet when he should have spoken. So Paul wrote to remind him: the fire is already in you. Stop letting it go cold. Fan it. That image stayed with me when I was designing this bracelet. Not a roaring fire, not something aggressive or loud. But a steady, warm flame. The kind that dri

I’ve been making jewelry for over five years. Mooncord (click to see it), my first business, is built around freshwater pearls — and pearls are genuinely beautiful. There’s something about them that makes a woman feel elegant, soft, quietly confident. I love that. I’m proud of that. But somewhere around year five, I started wanting something more. I kept thinking about what makes a piece of jewelry truly matter to someone. It’s rarely just the way it looks. A simple necklace

It started with the red. White as snow on my wrist I was looking at a red agate stone—deep, faceted, with natural druzy crystals running through it—and something about it stopped me. It wasn’t just beautiful. It was striking in a way that felt almost urgent. Rich and raw and impossible to look away from. And almost immediately, a verse came to mind. Isaiah 1:18: “Come now, let us reason together, says the Lord. Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow

I used to think faith was something you could see from the outside. That if you were doing it right, there would be evidence—certain habits, certain language, a certain kind of composure under pressure. Something others could point to and recognize. But that’s not the faith that has actually carried me. The faith that sustains me is quieter than that. It’s personal. It’s a relationship, a dialogue—something that happens in the space between me and God that no one else has acc

I didn’t always know how to be still. For a long time, I thought moving forward meant moving constantly—checking things off, figuring things out, staying one step ahead. Stillness felt like something I’d earn eventually, once everything was under control. It took a hard season to show me I had it backwards. I was juggling a lot—work, kids, all the things that don’t pause just because you’re tired. And somewhere in the middle of it, I found myself sitting quietly one morning w

People ask me sometimes why Still & Known only sells bracelets. No necklaces, no earrings. Just bracelets. The honest answer is that bracelets are the only jewelry you wear for yourself. Think about it. A necklace sits where others can see it. Earrings frame your face for the world. But a bracelet—you’re the one who sees it all day. When you glance down at your wrist while you’re working, or waiting, or trying to hold it together in a hard moment, it’s there. Just for you. Th

When I talk about stillness, I don’t mean a retreat. I don’t mean an hour of uninterrupted quiet or a perfectly peaceful morning. I have two boys, a full teaching schedule, and two businesses. That version of stillness isn’t my life. What I mean is much smaller than that. Some mornings it’s reading a couple of verses before the day starts—not a long devotion, just a few lines. Enough to remind me what I actually believe before the noise begins. Some days it’s sitting beside t