There are words that arrive as invitations rather than plans. They do not come with strategies or timelines. They simply ask to be lived. As I step into 2026, the word given to me is “lamp”. Not a spotlight. Not a flare. Not a floodlight meant to impress or overwhelm. A lamp small enough to be tended daily. It requires attention in trimming, oil, care. It does not rush the dark away, but it does make the next step visible. Much of what will be shared here in the coming weeks

“…these red dirt roads are not where faith is tested, but where faith is taught.”

There is a kind of rest that comes only after we stop trying to deserve it. This week, as I linger in the early rooms of The Interior Castle, I am becoming more aware of how deeply I am trained to strive, even in prayer. Especially in prayer. I notice how quickly my soul wants to bring something with it. Words. Effort. Insight. Proof of progress. And yet, Saint Teresa speaks of these first rooms not as places of achievement, but of awakening. The soul is not yet flooded with

“And so this little painting of washing on the line becomes a prayer in itself…”

“Drawing as prayer allows me to express worries, desires, and gratitude to God — transforming the creative process into a sacred…”

This first week of October has been full of movement, of making, and of moments that have asked me to pause and breathe it all in. So...

“My studio floor is a wild tangle of brushes, paint tubes, scraps of paper, and broken pastels. To anyone else, it might look like disorder”

In a world obsessed with perfection, showing up imperfectly but faithfully and mindfully has been a powerful shift. Over the last 100...

“Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much…” (Luke 16:10) May this Sunday remind you that the small things...