Lately the Old Testament prophets have been speaking to me with a kind of immediacy I didn’t expect. Their voices so ancient, so fiery, so tender have been threading themselves into my prayer in ways that feel both grounding and strangely new.
Continue reading “Devouring New Life”
There comes a point in every caregiving journey when you realize that the work you are doing is not simply practical, it is spiritual. You are tending not only to a body that falters, but to a soul navigating the mystery of decline. You are witnessing the slow unwinding of strength, the narrowing of independence, the surprising betrayals of memory, mobility, and clarity. And you are offering yourself, your time, your patience, your presence as a shelter in that storm.
Continue reading “Dear Caregiver”
Each morning begins in a kind of quiet sanctuary. Before the world fully wakes, I breathe in the familiar scent of my favorite coffee, warm and comforting, and light a candle as an invitation, a gentle summons for the Holy Spirit to guide my prayer and my day. I settle into the chair where I always pray, a place shaped by habit and grace, and savor those first slow sips while meditating on the prayer our Lord gave us.
What do the first moments of your day look like?
Continue reading “The Sacred Space of Morning”
There’s a Jesuit truth that feels almost startling in its simplicity: “Nothing is more practical than finding God, than falling in Love in a quite absolute, final way.” Not because love is sentimental, but because love roots the entire Christian life. When love is the source, obedience becomes joy rather than duty, and worship becomes truth rather than performance.
Continue reading “Love: The Most Practical Thing”
We yearn quietly and deeply for the simplicity of wholeness in Christ. Something in us knows that life becomes truest when it is aligned with God’s design, when our days flow in the direction of praise, trust, and love.
Continue reading “What We Were Made For”
The Saints give us an example of how to be holy. St. Bonaventure offers us a gentle reordering of how we “come to know.” Instead of grasping for certainty, he invites us to place ourselves where learning can happen, where something larger, truer, and more mysterious might meet us. This is opening space for the sacred that is already there.
Continue reading “Learning to Wonder”
Sometimes grace finds us in the most unexpected places even in the ladies’ room of a busy restaurant.
Continue reading “Today Is the Day”
Some mornings, hope arrives quietly, slipping through the narrow slats of my plantation shutters as a bright, insistent beam of sun. It’s astonishing how something so simple can steady me. That brightness feels like a whisper from God, a reminder that this is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.
Continue reading “Hope in the New Day”
In a world that feels increasingly overstimulating with so many voices, so many demands, so many complexities, I find myself returning again and again to St. Thérèse’s Little Way. There is something profoundly relieving about its simplicity. It gives my soul room to breathe. It reminds me that holiness is not found in grand gestures or heroic feats, but in small acts of trust, surrender, and love.
Continue reading “Reminder In The Little Way”
There’s a quiet kind of wisdom that only arrives when we slow down—when we stop trying to be efficient, productive, purposeful, and simply waste a little time. Not in a careless way, but in a soul‑restoring way. The kind of slowing that lets the heart breathe again.
Continue reading “Gift of Slowing Down”
Smitten With Goodness 