At the Counter with the Baking Pastor: For the tired heart learning to breathe again
Laura Sharp-Waites is a licensed minister, soul care guide, and the voice behind At the Counter with the Baking Pastor: For the tired heart learning to breathe again.
This is a quiet space for the woman who is tired…
but still showing up.
For the one who’s holding it together on the outside,
while something underneath feels a little unsteady.
Each episode offers a calm, honest place to slow down,
take a breath, and reconnect with God in the middle of everyday life.
Through gentle conversations, personal stories, and simple moments of reflection,
this podcast makes space for what you’ve been carrying—
especially the things that are hard to name.
If you’ve ever thought, “I don’t feel like myself anymore,” or “I don’t even know where to start…” you’re not alone.
This isn’t a space for pressure or quick fixes.
It’s a space to sit,
to breathe,
and to begin again… slowly.
Pull up a chair.
You don’t have to carry everything alone.
At the Counter with the Baking Pastor: For the tired heart learning to breathe again
When You Realize Not Everyone Is Meant to Stay (Who’s Still at the Table?)
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Episode Description
In this episode, Laura reflects on relationships, boundaries, and what we begin to notice when life slows down.
A gentle conversation about belonging, discernment, and finding the spaces where you feel most like yourself.
Soul Care Questions
• When you stop trying so hard, who naturally remains near you?
• Where do you feel most like yourself lately?
• What tables no longer ask you to shrink or strain?
Scripture / Blessing
“Let mutual love continue.” — Hebrews 13:1
May you be surrounded by relationships that allow you to be honest, whole, and at rest.
Closing
Listen with care.
Reflect honestly.
Carry what feels true.
If you’d like a quiet place to continue, At the Counter and the companion Soul Pause Journal are available here: https://amzn.to/4m1WRhM
If this episode met you where you are, I’d love to hear from you. What stayed with you?
The counter is always open.
If you’d like a quiet place to sit with what this stirred, A Seat at the Counter: A Soul Pause Journal is available here: https://amzn.to/4c4RSIv
*****
Considering being a guest on At the Counter With the Baking Pastor?
I invite you to listen to 1–2 recent episodes first to get a feel for the tone and heart of the conversations.
If it feels like a good fit, you’re welcome to reach out to me directly on PodMatch and share a bit about what you’d love to bring to the counter: https://www.podmatch.com/hostdetailpreview/atthecounterwiththebakingpastor
I’m especially drawn to conversations that are honest, reflective, and rooted in real-life experience.
Recording Started
SPEAKER_00Welcome to At the Counter with the Baking Pastor. I'm Laura. This is a space for slow conversations, gentle coaching, and a little room to breathe. Nothing here needs to be fixed or finished today. So wherever you are, take a breath, settle in, and pull up a chair. We'll start right here at the counter. There's a moment after a meal that I love. The dishes are mostly cleared, the room is quieter, and a few people linger. That moment tells you a lot. We often measure relationships by effort. Who shows up? Who reaches out? Who carries the conversation? But some of the clearest information comes after things slow down. Sometimes we only notice who's gone once we stop holding everything together. And that can hurt, even though it brings clarity. Not every relationship is meant to last through every season. I've seen this during illness and loss, both in my own life and in the lives of people I walk with. When someone is walking through something hard, people don't always know how to show up. Some step closer, some step back. Not because they don't care, but because they don't know how to be present. The circle can feel smaller. But in that quiet, you often begin to notice who is comfortable with tenderness, who can sit without fixing, who simply stays. That clarity can be painful. And it can also be grounding. I've noticed that sometimes the hardest part isn't that people leave. When you stop holding everything together, it just feels different. When you stop being the one who initiates, explains, smooths things over, or keeps the energy going, the table gets quieter. And in that quiet, you learn something important. You see who stays because they want to, not because you made it easy for them. That kind of clarity can feel tender, but it can also feel like relief. Letting things change doesn't mean you failed. Some relationships deepen when you rest. Others drift. But neither means that something went wrong. Pay attention to where you don't have to perform, where the silence feels safe. Let's pause with some questions. When you stop trying so hard, who naturally remains near you? You don't have to answer it out loud. Just notice what you feel. And one more. Where do you feel most like yourself lately? If questions about belonging, boundaries, or changing relationships are sitting with you, you don't have to sort them out alone. I offer gentle soul coaching for those discerning next steps in tender seasons. You can learn more about that at Dare to Live Again whenever it feels right. Before we move into our closing blessing, I want to share something with you. In the coming weeks, I'll be opening space for small sacred gatherings called soul care circles. There'll be quiet places of rest, reflection, and gentle companionship. If your heart has been longing for something softer, I invite you to stay close. I'll be sharing more very soon. And now, my friend, receive this blessing. May God meet you in every question and hold you in every uncertainty. May compassion soften your edges and courage steady your steps. May you trust that even when the path feels unclear, you are never alone. And may grace guide you now and always. Amen. Thank you for spending this time with me at the counter. If something in this conversation stayed with you, you are welcome to carry it into the week. If not, you can leave it here. Either way, you are always welcome back.