Early this past Saturday morning, one of my writing heroes passed away at the premature age of 37, leaving behind a husband and two very young children. I was shocked. Saddened. Heartbroken. Speechless. We were busy over the weekend, so I didn’t really have time to process it. But now I sit with her books spread before me, weeping, thankful for her words and what she gave to me. I couldn’t let this tragic event pass by without acknowledging what her writing meant to me. I discovered Rachel Held Evans’ writing at a time when I was lost, confused, and questioning. I was a believer, but my faith had been…