Hi, I’m Adriel.

I’m a writer, speaker, and curator based in the Fleurieu Peninsula on Ramindjeri and Ngarrindjeri Land in the southern part of Australia with my husband and three beautiful sons. I’m an immigrant and a city person who now lives in a small town among the gum trees and sea breezes, finding my way into middle life where I’m exploring middle things, like how change and transition and crisis and liminal spaces shape our lives in good and meaningful ways if we’re willing to stay in the tension long enough to meet God (and ourselves) there. 

My writing often includes themes of faith, doubt, hope, loss, relationships, identity, and what it means to be found and loved. . . and also what it means to find and to love.

I care about following Jesus and helping others discover God’s kindness and I do my best to be faithful to both. I’ve done a fair bit of work surrounding women’s issues—specifically maternal health advocacy for the developing world—and I care deeply about what it means to be a good neighbor and how faith and culture intertwine in the public square. I’ve been in vocational ministry for more than twenty years and yet believe the best and truest discipleship and growth and life happens when we gather around the table. 

It might sound cliche for a writer to share what I’m about to say, but I enjoy things like reading, styling vintage furniture and art, collecting records, photography, live music, and good art in story or visual form. I like to talk about hard things like politics and theology and parenting and culture. Perhaps some of that makes me sound more refined than I actually am; be assured I’m pretty regular. I’m working on things like developing the practices of silence and solitude and getting enough sleep. I like tacos and popcorn, flat whites and lemonade; I appreciate walks near the water and the blue wrens that visit our garden and the color and beat of city streets. I’ve got roots and wings and a soft spot for metaphors and the em dash—though I try not to overuse either. 

I’m Here to Write. 

I lost my way and rhythm as a writer for a little while so I feel reserved about making grand promises for how or when I’ll show up here at The Foundry, but I do know this: When I show up it will be honest and written with you in mind. I won’t write here just for the sake of writing (that’s what Morning Pages are for) or to stay on your radar. I can’t have this turn into another soul-sucking demand for content or become a reductionist stab at platform-building. I’m here to write for those who want to read and grow alongside me. That’s all.

So, Friends and Readers, The Foundry is my endeavor to get back to what I’m actually good at: Giving grace disguised as story and verse for the ones who find themselves weary or discouraged or in need of the reminder that they aren’t alone. It’s for the ones who find themselves in process, or, as Scott Erickson says, the ones who are “on the way.” 1

I’m renaming what has been LoveNotes for more than a decade to The Foundry as I transition my mailing list over to the Substack platform. 

Why ‘The Foundry’?

For one, I’ve wondered how many men are secure enough to subscribe to a newsletter called LoveNotes, but mostly because there’s a dignity in naming something as it’s birthed. Ascribing a new name in a new space to mark this transition feels appropriate as I enter a different stage and focus of my writing life.

Foundry is another name for workshop—specifically where metal work is being done. The word ‘foundry’ originated from the Latin word fundere which means to “to pour or melt” and this seems just right to me. These Substack letters will be where I work out ideas in the shop—more polished and finished ones go in places like books or articles—but these will be my work-in-progress words poured out in letter form with you in mind. 

From the Workshop:

Like metal can end up in everything from paper clips to guitar strings, forks or engagement rings, a spade or a canteen, The Foundry is my attempt to pour out something that is useful or entertaining, nourishing or beautiful, or even something that helps you grow or keep going. (So many possibilities.) And who knows? We may be surprised at what the workshop will produce, but workshops are exactly where makers and their friends belong so this is me inviting you to show up along with me at The Foundry. 

I’m committing to the pour and the process.

And You?

I hope The Foundry will give you the courage for the pour and the process, too. 



Other places you can find my work:

www.adrielbooker.com for articles, resources, and details regarding speaking; or @adrielbooker if you’re looking for me on social media. You can find some of my story as well as a professional bio here.


Grace Like Scarlett: Grieving with Hope After Miscarriage and Loss (Baker, 2018)

Tethered to Hope: The Transforming Mercy of Crisis, Change, and the In-between (Baker, 2024 release)

Community & Support:

Tethered (Summit & Community)

Our Scarlett Stories (Pregnancy Loss Support Community)

Liturgy for Baby Loss Remembrance Service

Read Adriel’s Substack in the Substack app
Available for iOS and Android


See Say Yes, chapter 6.

Subscribe to The Foundry

Exploring the ways we stay tethered to hope in liminal spaces, the gift of being human, the grace that holds us together, and the quiet kindness of finding and being found. // A reader-supported publication by Adriel Booker.


Adriel Booker is a writer and curator exploring how middle things form us if we’re willing to stay in the tension long enough to meet God there. She lives among the gum trees and sea breezes on Ramindjeri Land with her husband and three sons.