Walking into Weather
This morning, before the sun had quite decided whether it would bother rising, I glanced toward the basin behind the old general store. Yesterday, the water was still moving—a quiet, pewter-colored mirror breathing in slow ripples. Overnight, the temperature dropped like a stone, and the world held its breath long enough for ice to knit…
A Quiet Rebellion Against Noise
There are weeks when the news feels less like information and more like a low‑grade fever—always humming in the background, throwing everything a little off‑center. Conversations with friends, parishioners, strangers in the grocery aisle all circle the same ache: confusion about who we are becoming as a people, and why it feels so counter to…
The Music of Palms
It had been a long stretch of days—the kind that slip quietly into your body before you realize what’s happening. Muscles cinch tight, breath rides high in the chest, vision narrows—not by choice but by necessity. At first, I didn’t name it as stress; it simply felt like the natural rhythm of a month in…
In My Words 