Eleanor Grace
Stories, reflections, faith, and grit from Eleanor Grace—raw, real, and still growing.
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Not Just for Hunger
My favorite thing to cook depends on the moment.My guests matter just as much as the food—sometimes more. What I cook is never just for hunger. Cooking, like living, works best when you don’t overstay at the stove. You step… Continue reading
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Leisure, Taken Apart
Leisure has changed for me. It’s not what it once was. In leisure, I do not sit still.I float beside my thoughts. A violin, a gentle piano, hums somewhere—even if no one is playing it. Art leans in through my… Continue reading
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What a Name Learns
My first name was a beginning stroke.Given before courage.Before the world made its demands.In time, my name learned me. It doesn’t waste syllables.It’s short. Memorable. A little defiant.It does not ask permission to enter a room. It sits cross-legged and… Continue reading
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If I Could Un-Invent Something
It would be the speed. The way everything learned how to rushbefore we did. I don’t wish away phones, or the internet, or the ability to connect.I just wish we hadn’t trained ourselvesto respond before we reflect,to react before we… Continue reading
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Jumping Into the Past: Jeans and Me
Wow, this is such a cool way to reminisce. It’s funny how certain things from our past stick with us. For a minute, I thought there was nothing. I wasn’t attached to dolls or toys, so I assumed this prompt… Continue reading
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I Don’t Have a Sentence for Your Wall — I Have a Portrait
Someone said,“A mission should be big.”So I tried to stand taller, I lengthen my neck.I soften my eyes.I tilt my head just enoughthat my soul has room to breathe.But still I tripped over the question. I have never trusted questions… Continue reading
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The Place That Shows Up With Me
My perfect space isn’t something I build.It doesn’t have walls or windows or a door I need to close behind me. I can’t imagine waiting on a room or a piece of furniture in order to write, as if words,… Continue reading
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The One Who Sleeps Through The Waves
There are storms that roar in which I have no control, storms that roar like they have permission. Winds that arrive without warning, and my spirit asks quietly, “Lord… am I still safe?” But lately, I’ve been learning something in… Continue reading
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I Don’t Fit Inside First Impressions
“What’s the first impression you want to give people?” If I’m honest, I don’t think much about first impressions.Not because I’m careless, but because I’m a storyteller who knows that one voice is never enough to explain a whole heart.… Continue reading
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No Brush Hair Day – The Declaration
We, the unbrushed and unapologetic, hereby declare one sacred day each year to lay down our brushes. It’s about learning to like yourself even when your reflection looks like tangles, frizz, and cowlicks—just heads full of stories that refuse to… Continue reading
...The Rest Is His Story 