faith-driven lifestyle
faith-driven lifestyle
Mystical reflections
Evening’s Sacred Dissolving I face my mirror in the evening’s sacred hush, where familiar contours of self begin to blur at the edges. Here, in this liminal light, I feel clothed with a veil...
The Weight of Morning Mist In the soft morning light filtering through stained glass, I stood at the threshold of our church, heart full of carefully crafted welcomes and thoughtfully woven prayers....
Am I worthy? Picture a lonely creature in the vastness of a cathedral, her feet making no sound on the cold marble floor. Like a scolded puppy seeking reconciliation, she inches toward the altar –...
THRESHOLD CALLING Standing at the threshold, draped in crimson silk that speaks of both flesh and life, I challenge my own assumptions: What does a woman called by God look like? This dress speaks...
Oil and Holy Water Try rolling these words around your tongue: “Independent Catholic Female.” Feel how they clash and dance, like oil and holy water attempting to mix. For some, it tastes of...
I'd thought the sacramental marriage would be different. Like a cherry on top of the life we'd already built. God's super-intervention into our daily mess blowing the challenges away. I thought grace would feel like relief. Make us whole. Make us safe. Make the bills stop coming. Instead Grace came through grief, disappointment and error. Yet it came.
The Weight of Morning Mist In the soft morning light filtering through stained glass, I stood at the threshold of our church, heart full of carefully crafted welcomes and thoughtfully woven prayers....
Am I worthy? Picture a lonely creature in the vastness of a cathedral, her feet making no sound on the cold marble floor. Like a scolded puppy seeking reconciliation, she inches toward the altar –...
THRESHOLD CALLING Standing at the threshold, draped in crimson silk that speaks of both flesh and life, I challenge my own assumptions: What does a woman called by God look like? This dress speaks...
Oil and Holy Water Try rolling these words around your tongue: “Independent Catholic Female.” Feel how they clash and dance, like oil and holy water attempting to mix. For some, it tastes of...
I'd thought the sacramental marriage would be different. Like a cherry on top of the life we'd already built. God's super-intervention into our daily mess blowing the challenges away. I thought grace would feel like relief. Make us whole. Make us safe. Make the bills stop coming. Instead Grace came through grief, disappointment and error. Yet it came.
Evening’s Sacred Dissolving I face my mirror in the evening’s sacred hush, where familiar contours of self begin to blur at the edges. Here, in this liminal light, I feel clothed with a veil...
Am I worthy? Picture a lonely creature in the vastness of a cathedral, her feet making no sound on the cold marble floor. Like a scolded puppy seeking reconciliation, she inches toward the altar –...
THRESHOLD CALLING Standing at the threshold, draped in crimson silk that speaks of both flesh and life, I challenge my own assumptions: What does a woman called by God look like? This dress speaks...
Oil and Holy Water Try rolling these words around your tongue: “Independent Catholic Female.” Feel how they clash and dance, like oil and holy water attempting to mix. For some, it tastes of...
I'd thought the sacramental marriage would be different. Like a cherry on top of the life we'd already built. God's super-intervention into our daily mess blowing the challenges away. I thought grace would feel like relief. Make us whole. Make us safe. Make the bills stop coming. Instead Grace came through grief, disappointment and error. Yet it came.
Evening’s Sacred Dissolving I face my mirror in the evening’s sacred hush, where familiar contours of self begin to blur at the edges. Here, in this liminal light, I feel clothed with a veil...
The Weight of Morning Mist In the soft morning light filtering through stained glass, I stood at the threshold of our church, heart full of carefully crafted welcomes and thoughtfully woven prayers....
THRESHOLD CALLING Standing at the threshold, draped in crimson silk that speaks of both flesh and life, I challenge my own assumptions: What does a woman called by God look like? This dress speaks...
Oil and Holy Water Try rolling these words around your tongue: “Independent Catholic Female.” Feel how they clash and dance, like oil and holy water attempting to mix. For some, it tastes of...
I'd thought the sacramental marriage would be different. Like a cherry on top of the life we'd already built. God's super-intervention into our daily mess blowing the challenges away. I thought grace would feel like relief. Make us whole. Make us safe. Make the bills stop coming. Instead Grace came through grief, disappointment and error. Yet it came.
Evening’s Sacred Dissolving I face my mirror in the evening’s sacred hush, where familiar contours of self begin to blur at the edges. Here, in this liminal light, I feel clothed with a veil...
The Weight of Morning Mist In the soft morning light filtering through stained glass, I stood at the threshold of our church, heart full of carefully crafted welcomes and thoughtfully woven prayers....
Am I worthy? Picture a lonely creature in the vastness of a cathedral, her feet making no sound on the cold marble floor. Like a scolded puppy seeking reconciliation, she inches toward the altar –...
Oil and Holy Water Try rolling these words around your tongue: “Independent Catholic Female.” Feel how they clash and dance, like oil and holy water attempting to mix. For some, it tastes of...
I'd thought the sacramental marriage would be different. Like a cherry on top of the life we'd already built. God's super-intervention into our daily mess blowing the challenges away. I thought grace would feel like relief. Make us whole. Make us safe. Make the bills stop coming. Instead Grace came through grief, disappointment and error. Yet it came.
Evening’s Sacred Dissolving I face my mirror in the evening’s sacred hush, where familiar contours of self begin to blur at the edges. Here, in this liminal light, I feel clothed with a veil...
The Weight of Morning Mist In the soft morning light filtering through stained glass, I stood at the threshold of our church, heart full of carefully crafted welcomes and thoughtfully woven prayers....
Am I worthy? Picture a lonely creature in the vastness of a cathedral, her feet making no sound on the cold marble floor. Like a scolded puppy seeking reconciliation, she inches toward the altar –...
THRESHOLD CALLING Standing at the threshold, draped in crimson silk that speaks of both flesh and life, I challenge my own assumptions: What does a woman called by God look like? This dress speaks...
