Creative Prompt: Color a Garden
I wonder what is growing in your life right now?
Growth doesn’t usually happen all at once.
It’s slow and quiet and often hidden. Sometimes we don’t even notice it until something small begins to bloom. Today’s practice is an invitation to notice what might be growing in your life, not by analyzing it, but by gently creating space to see it.
The prompt is simple: Color a garden (or color one in, using this coloring page). You know how to draw simple flowers and leaves and that’s all you need to do. There’s no need to make it realistic. As you work, hold this gentle wondering: What is growing in my life right now?
Watercolor Option
Lightly sketch your garden, or begin directly with paint.
Use soft washes and layered colors to build your garden slowly.
Let some areas stay light or unfinished, not everything needs to be in full bloom.
Allow colors to overlap and grow into one another.
Pause as you go. Notice what emerges.
Wondering Questions
I wonder what feels like it’s just beginning?
I wonder what has been growing quietly, without much attention?
I wonder if anything needs more space, time, or care?
I wonder what feels fully alive right now?
I wonder how it feels to notice growth without trying to force it?
Let the questions stay soft. You don’t need to figure anything out.
A Kid-Friendly Version
Invite kids to:
Draw or color a garden, any kind they like.
Fill it with plants, flowers, bugs, or anything they imagine growing.
You can wonder together:
What is growing in your garden?
Is anything still small or just starting?
What helps things grow?
Let their answers be simple and imaginative.
A Closing Invitation
When you’re finished, sit with your garden for a moment.
Notice:
What draws your eye?
What feels alive?
What feels like it’s still waiting?
You might carry this wondering with you:
I wonder where Jesus is present in the slow growth of my life?
Creative Lenten Practice, Session 4: Rejoicing Together
As we come together now during Eastertide, we turn toward joy. Not a forced or surface-level happiness, but a deeper kind of rejoicing, the kind that can hold everything that has come before it.
Supplies:
your previous project from session one OR watercolor paper
gold leaf, glue, and sealant (or gold acrylic marker)
paint brush
things to collage (old magazines work great for this one!)
Step 1: Prepare your body (5 minutes)
If you’re able, begin this practice with something simple and nourishing, a small snack, a warm drink, or even just a moment of settling in a comfortable space. This session carries a slightly different tone. There is still space for quiet, but also room for warmth, presence, and even gentle conversation if you are with others.
You might begin by reading these words from Jan Richardson slowly:
And the stone is rolled back
not so that we can see
where Jesus was,
but so that we can see
where he is not.
Not bound,
not contained,
not held
by death or despair.And so we are not bound,
not contained,
not held—
not by what we have been,
not by what we have done,
not by what has been done to us.The stone is rolled back
so that we might step
into the wide, unbounded
life of resurrection.
Sit with that for a moment.
Step 2: Reflect (5–10 minutes)
Read slowly:
Over these past weeks, you have been practicing letting go, releasing what feels heavy, trusting that you do not need to hold everything so tightly.
You have practiced rest, allowing space for grief, weariness, and all that feels unfinished. You have begun to notice new life, small, quiet signs of growth beneath the surface. Through it all, the invitation has not been to become someone new through effort, but to notice what God has already been doing within you.
Now we come to rejoicing.
Rejoicing does not mean everything is resolved or healed. It means we begin to recognize where life has been present all along. As the apostle Paul the Apostle writes, “Rejoice always… for the Lord is near.” Joy is not something we force or prove. It is something we begin to notice, because God is with us.
Step 3: Prepare Your Piece (10–15 minutes)
Bring back the piece you have been working on over the past sessions (or create a simple one if you’re starting here). Take a moment to look at it.
Notice:
the torn edges
the layered pieces
the places that feel unfinished
the places that feel alive
Step 4: Add Gold (15–20 minutes)
For this step, you’ll need:
gold leaf (or gold paper/paint as a substitute)
glue
a brush or your fingers
First, gently apply glue to parts of your piece. Let the glue sit until it becomes tacky or clear. Then carefully place the gold leaf over those areas. Gently press it down and brush away the excess.
As you do this, remember: you are not covering over what has been. You are honoring it.
Step 5: Words of Blessing (Optional, if with others)
If you are doing this practice with others, take a moment to offer and receive words and pictures from the old magazings.
Choose one person (for example, the person to your left) to quietly reflect on their presence and what you have witnessed in them. Peruse old magazines or other collage elements and offer a simple word or phrase as a blessing, something that names life, hope, or truth.
Then receive a word from someone else. Add those collage elements as the final layer of your piece.
If you are alone, you might instead ask:
What word might God be offering me?
Write that word and add it to your piece.
Step 6: Sit and Wonder (5–10 minutes)
Sit quietly with your finished piece.
You might reflect on:
How do I feel as I look at this now?
What was it like to add gold to these places?
What did it feel like to receive (or choose) a word of blessing?
What part of this process surprised me?
Let yourself notice without needing to explain.
Step 7: Closing Benediction
You might end with these words from John Chrysostom:
Let all partake of the feast of faith.
Let all receive the riches of goodness.Let no one mourn that they have fallen again and again,
for forgiveness has risen from the grave.Let no one fear death,
for the Savior’s death has set us free.Christ is risen, and life is set free.
Amen.
Practicing the Presence Prompt: Something tiny
“Photograph something tiny that’s growing.
Where is God in the small and slow-growing?”
Growth is easy to miss when it’s small: it could be a new leaf just starting to open, grass pushing up through the dirt, or a bud that hasn’t bloomed yet.
Nothing about it feels dramatic. There’s no big moment, no clear before-and-after. It’s quiet, gradual, and often hidden unless you’re paying attention.
Most of life feels this way.
We want change to be obvious and quick. We want to see progress, to know that something is happening. But so much of what matters grows slowly, over time, beneath the surface, without much to show for it at first.
What Is “Practicing the Presence”?
Practicing the presence means learning to notice God in these kinds of moments.
Not just in big breakthroughs or clear answers, but in the quiet work that unfolds little by little.
It’s trusting that God is present in growth we can’t always measure.
Try This
Today, look for something small that’s growing.
It might be outside, a plant, a tree, a patch of grass. Or it might be something closer like a houseplant, a garden, even something you’ve been tending over time.
Pause and really look.
If you’d like, take a photo, not because it’s impressive, but because it’s easy to overlook.
Then ask yourself:
Where do I see small growth in my life right now?
What feels slow or unfinished?
How might God be at work in ways I can’t yet see?
Growth doesn’t have to be fast to be real.
Sometimes the most important things are the ones that take time, quietly, steadily, day by day.
And God is there in all of it.
Creative Prompt: Color a square
Divide it into four parts and notice your day.
Our days can blur together. One moment leads into the next, and before we know it, the day is over, full, or maybe just busy, or maybe hard to name at all.
This practice invites you to slow down and look again, not at the whole day all at once, but in small, held pieces.
Draw a square on your page, or use this coloring page. Divide it into four sections. Each section will hold a different part of your day. You might choose:
morning, midday, afternoon, evening
orfour specific moments that stand out
Inside each section, draw or color what that part of your day felt like.
Not what happened, exactly, but how it felt.
Watercolor Option
Draw your square and divide it into four parts.
In each section, use color and simple shapes to represent that part of your day.
One might be bold and full.
Another might be pale or nearly empty.
Let the paint move freely. You don’t need details.
Pause between sections if you can. Let each one have its own space.
Colored Pencil or Crayon Option
Draw your square and divide it.
Fill each section with colors or patterns that match how that time felt.
You can press hard, go lightly, scribble, or keep it neat. Let the feeling guide your hand.
Wondering Questions
I wonder which part of my day felt the fullest?
I wonder which part felt quiet or empty?
I wonder how I feel looking at my day this way?
I wonder if anything small stands out now that I’ve paused?
I wonder where God might have been present in these moments? Where did God feel far away?
A Kid-Friendly Version
Invite kids to:
Draw a big square and split it into four parts.
Draw or color something from different parts of their day.
You can wonder together:
What happened in this part?
Which part was your favorite?
Which part felt quiet or slow?
Let them keep it simple, even one color per section is enough.
A Closing Invitation
When you’re finished, take a moment to look at the whole square. Four small sections in one day.
You might carry this wondering with you: What would it be like to receive my day as it was, instead of wishing it were different?
If you feel comfortable, I’d love to see what you create. When I share these prompts, I’ll always try to share what I’ve made too. Tag me on Instagram or comment below with a photo or reflection.
Practicing the Presence | Prompt 10: Photograph a path
“Photograph a path, trail, hallway, or footsteps.
Where is God in your journey today?”
Paths show up everywhere once you start noticing them.
A sidewalk stretching down the street.
A trail through the woods.
A hallway leading from one room to another.
Even footprints in snow or sand.
They remind us that life is always moving somewhere. We are always on the way from one place to the next.
Sometimes the path ahead feels clear. We know what we’re doing and where we’re going.
Other times it feels uncertain. We can only see the next few steps.
What Is “Practicing the Presence”?
Practicing the presence means remembering that God is with us not only at the destination, but along the way.
It’s learning to notice God in the ordinary movement of our days—in errands, conversations, routines, and small decisions.
We often want the whole path mapped out. But the spiritual life usually works differently. More often, God meets us step by step.
Try This
Today, notice a path.
It might be outside on a walk, in a hallway you pass through every day, or in footprints left behind by someone else.
Pause and look at it for a moment.
If you’d like, take a photo. Not because the path is extraordinary, but because it reminds you that you’re on a journey.
Then ask yourself:
Where am I in my journey right now?
What step is right in front of me today?
How might God already be present on this path?
You don’t have to see the whole road to walk with God.
Often, practicing the presence simply means trusting that He is with you in the step you’re taking right now.
Creative Lenten Practice, Session Three: Noticing what is growing
Lent is not only about what we release. It is also about what God is gently bringing to life within us.
In the Book of Isaiah we hear God say:
“See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?”
Often, we do not perceive it right away. New life tends to emerge quietly, beneath the surface, in ways that are easy to miss.
Jesus often spoke about seeds — small things hidden in the soil that grow faithfully long before anyone sees them. Renewal rarely announces itself. It may appear as a small shift, a quiet hope, or a subtle longing for something more life-giving.
This practice invites you to notice those small beginnings.
You may want to set aside about an hour for the full practice, though you can shorten it if needed.
Supplies:
your previous project from session one OR watercolor paper
acrylic paint
paint brush
things to create texture (bubble wrap, stamps, paper towels, stencils, almost anything!)
Step 1: Prepare your body (5 minutes)
Make a cup of tea or another warm drink if you’d like. Sit somewhere comfortable and allow yourself to breathe slowly.
You might read these words from Ted Loder:
“I am so thankful to be alive—breathing, moving, sensing, wide-eyed, cock-eared alive—in this mysterious instant, at this luminous time, on this nurturing earth, this blue pearl of great price whirling through uncharted space, attended by vigilant stars…. I am…eager to miss no message of grace in the ballet of beauty or in the cramp of struggle of this incredible gift of life.”
Sit quietly for a moment and notice your breath.
Step 2: Reflect (5 minutes)
Read slowly:
Lent is not only about what we let go of. It is also about what God is gently bringing to life within us. New life often begins quietly. Seeds grow underground long before we see them.
Right now, we are not trying to force growth or create something impressive. We are simply noticing what feels alive, curious, or hopeful — even in very small ways.
This is not resurrection yet. It is the long, patient work of becoming. Trust that God’s Spirit is at work, even here.
Step 3: Journal (10–15 minutes)
Write freely in response to one or more of these questions:
Where do I notice something small beginning to grow?
What feels alive here, even if it is faint?
What might be growing beneath the surface, unseen?
What if I don’t need to force or finish this?
Write slowly and honestly.
Step 4: Add Color (15–20 minutes)
Take the paper you have been working with (or begin with a fresh sheet if you prefer).
Choose one or two colors. Using a brush or another simple tool, begin adding small strokes of color. Move slowly.
You might:
mix the colors together
create small marks or lines
stamp textures using simple objects
add a border around the edge of the page
Try to let the background remain visible. The earlier layers are still part of the story.
Move gently. This is not about starting over. It is about noticing what wants to grow here.
Let the colors emerge slowly.
Pause often.
Sit with each mark before making another.
Step 5: Sit and Wonder (5 minutes)
Before moving on, sit quietly with your painting.
You might reflect on one of these questions:
What was it like to begin without a plan?
What did I notice about restraint — using less, or stopping sooner?
When did the process feel most alive?
What feelings did the process evoke in me?
Did anything surprise me?
Just notice what arises.
Step 6: Practice Visio Divina With Your Painting (10 minutes)
Visio Divina means “sacred seeing.” It is a way of praying with an image.
Begin by quieting your thoughts and placing yourself in God’s presence. You might ask the Holy Spirit to guide your prayer.
Then slowly gaze at your painting.
Look
Notice the shapes, colors, textures, and spaces without trying to interpret them.
Notice
What draws your attention?
Is there a place your eyes return to?
Feel
What emotions or memories arise as you look?
What connections does the image make with your life?
Pray
Tell God what you are seeing and sensing.
Rest
Sit quietly with what has stirred within you.
Before finishing, you might ask yourself:
What do I want to remember about this time of prayer?
Step 8: Closing Blessing
You might end with this blessing from John O'Donohue:
May you know the slow
halting rhythm of growth
that grows in the seed
of your soul.
Amen.
Creative Prompt: Paint a flower
Make the petals different colors than they “should” be.
We learn early what things are supposed to look like and without noticing, we begin to carry that same expectation into other parts of our lives, that there is a right way to be, a right way to show up, a right way to be beautiful.
Today’s practice gently loosens that.
Paint a simple flower or use this coloring page.
It can be:
a daisy
a wildflower
a made-up bloom
a single stem or a whole cluster
Then, when you add the petals, choose colors that don’t follow the usual rules.
Make them:
blue, purple, gray, or gold
multicolored or striped
soft and unexpected
bold and a little strange
Let the flower be beautiful in a way that isn’t predictable.
Watercolor Option
Lightly sketch your flower, or begin directly with paint.
Paint the center first, or the petals — whatever feels natural.
As you add petals, pause and choose colors slowly.
You don’t need to match anything.
You don’t need a plan.
Let colors blend or stay separate.
Notice what it feels like to choose freely.
Colored Pencil or Crayon Option
Draw your flower shape.
Fill each petal with a different or unexpected color.
You can layer colors, press hard in some places, or keep it light.
There’s no “correct” version to aim for.
Wondering Questions
I wonder what makes something beautiful to me?
I wonder where I’ve learned what is “supposed” to be?
I wonder how it feels to choose differently?
I wonder if beauty can be surprising?
I wonder where I might be allowed to be more fully myself?
Let the questions stay open as you work.
A Kid-Friendly Version
Invite kids to:
Paint or draw a flower.
Use any colors they want for the petals, even silly ones.
You can wonder together:
Have you ever seen a flower like this before?
Which color is your favorite?
What would happen if all flowers looked the same?
Celebrate the unexpected choices.
A Closing Invitation
When you’re finished, take a moment to look at your flower.
Notice:
Which petals draw your eye?
Which colors feel bold or soft?
You might carry this wondering with you:
Where in my life am I allowed to be different than expected and still be fully beautiful?
Let the flower remind you: There is more than one way to bloom.
If you feel comfortable, I’d love to see what you create. When I share these prompts, I’ll always try to share what I’ve made too. Tag me on Instagram or comment below with a photo or reflection.
Creative Lenten Practice, Session Two: Resting in the Middle
Lent is not only a season for releasing. It is also a season for telling the truth.
Sometimes what surfaces after we let go of things is not clarity or peace, but tiredness. Grief. Longing. The sense of being in the middle of something unfinished.
Scripture makes space for this. The prayers in the Book of Psalms are full of lament: faithful cries of “How long, O Lord?” spoken not in despair, but in trust that God is listening.
And Jesus Christ himself knew what it was to be weary. In the garden he told his friends, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow.” He asked them simply to stay with him.
Rest in Lent is not about fixing what hurts or escaping difficulty. It is about allowing ourselves to be seen and held exactly where we are.
This practice invites you to slow down, honor what feels weary, and practice receiving rather than controlling.
You can set aside about an hour, or shorten the practice if needed.
Supplies:
your previous project from session one OR watercolor paper
watercolor ink or liquid watercolor (or regular watercolor paint)
water in a spray bottle
a brush or dropper
paper towels
Step 1: Prepare your body (5 minutes)
Make a cup of tea or another warm drink if you’d like. Sit somewhere comfortable and let yourself settle into silence.
You might read this poem by Jan Richardson slowly:
Let us agree for now
that we will not say
the breaking makes us stronger
or that it is better to have this pain
than to have done without this love.Let us promise we will not tell ourselves
time will heal the wound,
when every day our waking opens it anew.Perhaps for now it can be enough
to simply marvel at the mystery
of how a heart so broken
can go on beating, as if it were made for precisely this—
as if it knows the only cure for love is more of it,
as if it sees the heart’s sole remedy for breaking is to love still.
Sit quietly for a moment. Let yourself simply arrive.
Step 2: Reflect (5 minutes)
Read slowly:
Lent gives us permission to stop pretending that everything is fine.
The psalms remind us that lament can be faithful prayer.
Jesus reminds us that sorrow and weariness are not signs of failure.
Rest, in this season, is not about escape or resolution.
It is about allowing ourselves to be seen and held as we are.
Tonight we will not try to fix what hurts.
We will simply notice it and bring it gently into God’s presence.
Step 3: Journal (15 minutes)
Write freely in response to one or more of these questions:
What feels tired, sad, or unfinished in me?
Where do I feel weary in the long middle?
What do I long for God to see?
Write slowly.
You do not need to explain or resolve anything.
Simply tell the truth.
Step 4: Rest With Ink (15–20 minutes)
Choose one color.
Place a drop of ink on the paper and watch what happens.
You might tilt the paper slightly and allow gravity to move the color.
You might spray a little water and let it spread.
You might blot gently with a paper towel and watch the pigment lift away.
Move slowly.
This is not about painting something.
It is about allowing the ink to move in its own way.
Sometimes you may guide it slightly.
Sometimes you may simply watch it spread.
As you work, remember:
You do not need to make anything happen.
God is already here.
Let the ink teach you how to rest.
Step 5: Sit and Wonder (5–10 minutes)
When you’re finished, sit quietly and look at what has emerged.
Stay close to the process rather than trying to interpret the result.
You might reflect on one of these questions:
I wonder what it felt like to watch the ink move.
I wonder what it was like not to control where the color went.
I wonder what happened inside me when I slowed down.
I wonder what it was like to let gravity and water do the work.
I wonder where I noticed tension or release.
There is nothing you need to figure out.
Just notice.
Step 6: Close in Prayer
You might end with this prayer from Julian of Norwich:
Lord Jesus Christ,
in our sorrow you draw near to us.
In our weariness you hold us.
In our questions you remain faithful.
Help us to rest in your love tonight.
Help us to trust that nothing is wasted in your hands.
Keep us in your mercy,
surround us with your peace,
and remind us again that
all shall be well,
and all shall be well,
and all manner of things shall be well.
Amen.
Or you might pray:
O God of peace, who has taught us that in returning and rest we shall be saved,
in quietness and confidence shall be our strength:
Lift us by your Spirit into your presence,
where we may be still and know that you are God;
through Christ our Lord. Amen. (BCP)
Creative Lenten Practice, Session One: Releasing
As Lent begins, we are invited into the wilderness, not to be emptied for the sake of emptiness, but to make room for God.
Through the prophet in the Book of Joel we hear the invitation: “Return to the Lord your God, for he is gracious and merciful.” Returning often begins with releasing: loosening our grip on what we’ve been holding tightly.
When Jesus Christ speaks of fasting, he describes it as something quiet and hidden, not performative. Fasting can mean setting aside food, but it can also mean releasing habits, expectations, or ways of being that no longer give life.
This simple practice is meant to help you begin Lent gently, by noticing what feels heavy and practicing release with both your heart and your hands.
You can set aside about an hour, or shorten it if needed.
Supplies:
pen/pencil/marker (for journaling)
sheets of paper (for journaling)
cardstock, watercolor paper, canvas, wooden board
Mod Podge (or glue mixed with water)
old paint brush
Step 1: Prepare your body (5 minutes)
Make a cup of tea, coffee, or another warm drink if you’d like.
Sit somewhere comfortable.
Before doing anything else, take a few slow breaths and quiet your body.
You might pray silently:
God, help me notice what I am carrying.
Let the silence be enough.
Step 2: Reflect (5 minutes)
Read slowly:
Lent invites us to return to God.
Returning often begins with releasing.
Tonight, you are not striving to become a better version of yourself.
You are simply noticing what feels heavy, clenched, or crowded.
You might imagine Jesus’ invitation:
“Come to me, all you who are weary and carrying heavy burdens.”
What might you be invited to set down, just for now?
Sit with that for a moment.
Step 3: Journal (15–20 minutes)
Write freely in response to one or more of these questions:
What feels heavy or clenched as I enter Lent?
What am I holding tightly right now?
What might I be invited to fast from, not to punish myself, but to make space?
What feels ready to be loosened, even slightly?
Don’t worry about writing something meaningful or polished, just be honest.
Step 4: Practice Release With Your Hands (15–20 minutes)
Take your journal sheets and slowly tear them into pieces of all different shapes and sizes. Notice the sound and notice your response.
Then take the pieces and glue or tape them onto your heavier paper or canvas to cover the whole page.
You are not trying to make something pretty. You are practicing release with your hands. Let this be prayer.
Step 5: Sit and Wonder (5–10 minutes)
When you’re finished, sit quietly and notice what is present.
You might reflect on one of these:
I wonder what it felt like to write those words.
I wonder what happened inside me as I decided what to tear.
I wonder what the sound of ripping stirred in me.
I wonder what I noticed in my body as I pulled the paper apart.
I wonder what it was like to place the torn pieces down in a new way.
I wonder what God is inviting me to notice in this process?
There is nothing you need to figure out. Just notice.
Step 6: Close
You might end with this simple prayer:
God, receive what I have released.
Hold what I cannot yet let go of.
Make space in me for your life.
Amen.
Allow your piece to dry and keep it for session two, next week.
Creative Prompt: Draw a shape
Then change one side to make it imperfect on purpose.
Choose a simple shape:
a square
a triangle
a circle
a rectangle
Paint or draw most of it slowly on your page (or use this coloring page).
Then finish your shape imperfectly. Make it uneven, crooked, wavy or any other way.
Leave it that way. Resist correcting it. Let the imperfection be visible and intentional.
Wondering Questions
I wonder how it feels to change something on purpose?
I wonder which part of me wants to fix it?
I wonder what “perfect” even means here?
I wonder what becomes possible when something is slightly off?
I wonder if imperfection can be a form of freedom?
Let the questions sit beside you, not demanding answers.
A Kid-Friendly Version
Invite kids to:
Paint a big shape on their paper.
Pick one side and make it silly or wiggly on purpose.
You can wonder together:
Which side did you change?
Does it make your shape more interesting?
What would happen if all the shapes were perfectly straight?
Celebrate the weird side. That’s the brave part.
A Closing Invitation
Sit with your imperfect shape for a moment.
Notice:
Does your eye keep returning to the altered side?
Does it soften over time?
You might carry this gentle wondering into your day:
Where in my life could I allow imperfections and trust that it’s still enough?
If you feel comfortable, I’d love to see what you create. When I share these prompts, I’ll always try to share what I’ve made too. Tag me on Instagram or comment below with a photo or reflection.
Creative Prompt: Tear and Glue
A slow collage prayer
I’ve done a few collage prayers in the past week or so. One was led by fellow a spiritual director and was beautiful and gentle and slow; joining in with her and a few others felt like a gift to myself. In leading that, she helped me make space on a day when I would have struggled on my own. I decided to bring that gift to Sunday school on a day when I led the children in a contemplative exercise — imaginative prayer (more on that sweet time later!) — as a way to respond to the story. And those kids dove in with gusto!
So now I bring that gift to you, trusting that each tear of paper, each stroke of glue, is its own type of wordless prayer. With this practice, I invite you to pray without needing to explain yourself.
Gather a few pieces of paper. They can be:
old magazines
colored paper
scrap paper
junk mail
tissue paper
pages you no longer need
Begin tearing pieces slowly with your hands. Let the edges be uneven. Let the shapes surprise you.
Then begin gluing the pieces down to form any shape, picture, or design you’d like. You can use anything as your background, or download this page.
It doesn’t have to “look like” something and you don’t have to explain what it means.
As you work slowly, you might wonder:
What do I want Jesus to help me with today?
or
What do I want to say to God?
There is no right way to answer. The collage itself can hold the prayer.
Wondering Questions
You might hold one of these quietly while you work:
I wonder what my hands are expressing that my words can’t?
I wonder if God receives this just as fully as spoken prayer?
I wonder what feels torn in me right now?
I wonder what wants to be mended, supported, or strengthened?
I wonder what it feels like to let prayer be imperfect?
Notice what arises. No pressure to resolve it.
A Kid-Friendly Version
Invite children to:
Tear paper into different shapes and sizes.
Glue them down to make a picture or design.
You can gently wonder together:
What would you like Jesus to help you with?
Is there something you want to tell God today?
How does it feel to tear paper instead of cutting it?
Let their answers be simple. Let the art carry what they don’t say.
A Closing Invitation
When you’re finished, sit with your collage for a moment.
Notice:
Where does your eye rest?
Which piece feels most important?
Which one surprised you?
You don’t need to interpret it, just let it be what it is: a prayer made of torn edges and held together with care.
And trust that even this is received with delight.
Practicing the Presence | Prompt 9: An Unexpected Pop of Color
“Look for an unexpected pop of color and capture it.
Let surprise be a doorway to joy.”
Some days feel muted. The sky is gray. The to-do list is long. The rhythm of life feels predictable, even heavy. And then, almost without warning, you notice it:
A bright red mitten on the sidewalk.
A yellow leaf against dull pavement.
A burst of pink in a winter coat crowd.
A bowl of oranges glowing on the counter.
Color has a way of interrupting us.
It doesn’t demand anything. It simply catches our eye and invites us to look again.
What Is “Practicing the Presence”?
Practicing the presence means paying attention to the small moments where God’s goodness breaks into ordinary life.
It’s not about manufacturing happiness. It’s about noticing what’s already there.
An unexpected pop of color can become a reminder that joy is often quiet and unscheduled. It shows up without an announcement. It surprises us. And sometimes surprise is exactly how grace arrives.
Try This
Today, look intentionally for color, especially somewhere you wouldn’t expect it. Pause when you see it. Let yourself enjoy it without rushing past.
If you’d like, take a photo, not for perfection, but as a way of saying, I almost missed this.
Then ask yourself:
What did this small surprise stir in me?
When was the last time I allowed joy to interrupt my day?
Where might God be inviting me to notice beauty more closely?
Joy doesn’t always come through big moments. Sometimes it slips in quietly, bright and unplanned. Look for it. You might be surprised.
Creative Prompt: Paint a Rainbow
I wonder what promise you need to remember?
Rainbows are one of the first symbols many of us learn to recognize. They show up in children’s books and skies after storms, in crayon drawings and old stories passed down through generations.
A rainbow doesn’t erase the storm. It appears afterwards as a reminder. Today’s creative practice invites you to paint a rainbow, not as decoration, but as an act of remembering.
Remembering is a spiritual practice. Not remembering facts but remembering truth when it’s easy to forget. A rainbow reminds us that storms don’t last forever, beauty can follow difficulty, and promises are often quieter than we expect. Sometimes the most faithful thing we can do is look back and say, I’ve seen goodness before.
Paint a rainbow on your page.
It can be:
traditional or unexpected
bold or barely-there
perfectly arched or uneven and wandering
You can paint every color clearly, or let them blend and bleed into one another. There is no correct version.
As you paint, hold this gentle wondering: What promise do you need to remember right now?
Watercolor Option
Lightly sketch an arc if you want or begin directly with paint.
Paint one color at a time, moving slowly across the page.
Allow colors to touch, soften, or blur.
Pause between colors if you need to.
You don’t have to fill the page. A single arc is enough.
Colored Pencil or Crayon Option
Draw a rainbow using crayons or colored pencils, or use this coloring page.
Press firmly in some places and lightly in others.
You can repeat colors, skip some, or invent new ones.
Let your hand choose what comes next.
Wondering Questions
You might hold one or two of these gently while you work or afterward.
I wonder what promises have carried me before?
I wonder which promises feel hard to trust right now?
I wonder what it feels like to remember instead of strive?
I wonder where hope shows up quietly in my life?
I wonder if the promise comes after the storm, not instead of it?
A Kid-Friendly Version
Invite kids to paint or draw a rainbow in any way they like.
You can wonder together:
What do rainbows make you think of?
When do rainbows usually appear?
What is something good you hope for?
You don’t need to explain the promise. Let imagination lead.
A Closing Invitation
When you’re finished, sit with your page for a moment.
Which colors stand out?
Which feel gentle or strong?
You might carry this wondering with you: What promise wants to be remembered today?
Let the rainbow hold it for you even if the answer is still forming.
If you feel comfortable, I’d love to see what you create. When I share these prompts, I’ll always try to share what I’ve made too. Tag me on Instagram or comment below with a photo or reflection.
Invitation: A Creative Way to Walk Through Lent
This year, I’m offering a four-week creative spiritual direction group for Lent for anyone longing to move through the season slowly, honestly, and with care.
We’ll gather once a week and work on one piece of artwork over four sessions, allowing it to change gradually as Lent unfolds. Each week has a simple theme:
Releasing – letting go and making space
Resting – honoring grief, weariness, and lament
Renewing – noticing quiet growth beneath the surface
Rejoicing – receiving words of hope as we look toward Easter
Each session will include:
a short spiritual reflection grounded in Scripture
quiet journaling (private; never shared)
a simple, guided creative practice
generous silence and space for wondering
optional sharing from the experience of making (not explanations or analysis)
You do not need to be an artist or know exactly what you want from Lent.
This is not about producing something beautiful or meaningful, though many people are surprised by how much they love what emerges. It’s about being present and trusting that God is already at work, even in what feels unfinished.
If you’re tired of striving but still want to stay attentive to God…
If you long for a gentle, embodied way to pray…
You are welcome here.
This group is small by design and held with clear guidelines around confidentiality, consent, and care. Sharing is always optional. Silence is honored.
A quick note about logistics
This group will be offered in person, with space intentionally limited so the experience can remain quiet and spacious. The cost for the in-person group is $30, which simply covers all art materials. No need to bring anything with you.
If there is enough interest, I may also offer an online version of the group. The online group would be free, with participants providing their own materials at home.
If you’re interested but unsure which option might work for you, you’re welcome to reach out or add your name to the interest list.
Creative Prompt: Let it Dry
A creative practice for releasing urgency
Urgency has a way of convincing us that everything is immediate, that nothing can wait, that if we pause we might fall behind or miss something important. But today’s practice invites you to notice your relationship with hurry, not to necessarily fix it, but to sit with it, gently, and see what it has to teach you.
Using any kind of paint (watercolor, tempera, acrylic, even finger paint) begin making marks on the page very slowly.
One line.
One shape.
One patch of color.
After each mark, pause and notice the paint as it moves and settles.
Before switching colors, wait for part of the page to dry. You don’t need to wait for it to dry completely, just enough to feel the waiting.
Pay attention to what happens in your body during these pauses. Notice any urge to rush, fix, or move on.
Ways to Work (Optional Structure)
If it helps to have gentle guardrails:
Make only 5–10 marks total
Wait at least 30–60 seconds between colors
Change colors only when the previous one is mostly dry
Breathe slowly while you wait
Let the drying time become part of the practice.
Wondering Questions
You might hold one of these while you paint, or return to them afterward.
I wonder where I feel urgency in my body?
I wonder what I’m afraid might happen if I slow down?
I wonder what it’s like to wait without filling the space?
I wonder what the paint is teaching me about timing?
I wonder if anything important is actually lost by waiting?
If You Don’t Have Paint
You can adapt this with:
this coloring page
markers (waiting before adding another layer)
crayons or oil pastels (slowing your pressure and pace)
collage glue (waiting for pieces to set before adding more)
The key is deliberate slowness and allowing things to settle.
A Kid-Friendly Version
Invite kids to:
Spray or drop some water on a page.
Paint a few slow marks on or near the water.
Stop and watch the paint spread.
Wait until it’s dry before using a new color.
Wonder together:
Was it hard to wait?
What did you do while the paint dried?
What happens when we slow down?
Keep it playful and short. Even a little waiting is enough.
A Closing Invitation
When you’re finished, resist the urge to evaluate the page. It won’t be pretty or something you want to frame. That’s OK.
Instead, just notice: How does your body feel now compared to when you started? What in my life is asking me to dry in its own time?
If you feel comfortable, I’d love to see what you create. When I share these prompts, I’ll always try to share what I’ve made too. Tag me on Instagram or comment below with a photo or reflection.
Practicing the Presence | Prompt 8: Reflections
“Find a reflection in water, glass, or metal and photograph it.
What truth or beauty is being reflected?”
Reflections invite us to slow down. They show us familiar things in unfamiliar ways. We don’t usually look for them, but when we do, they stop us just long enough to notice.
In the spiritual life, reflection works much the same way. It helps us see what’s already there, but from a different angle.
What Is “Practicing the Presence”?
Practicing the presence means learning to notice God in ordinary moments without needing them to be dramatic or profound. It’s paying attention to what is being revealed in the everyday: light, beauty, truth, and sometimes ourselves. Reflections remind us that God’s presence isn’t always obvious or direct. Sometimes it’s only glimpsed.
Try This
Today, look for a reflection. It might be in a puddle, a mirror, a window, a shiny countertop, or the surface of a parked car. When you find one, stop and really look.
Then ask:
What am I seeing reflected here?
What truth or beauty is easy to miss unless I slow down?
What might God be showing me about this moment or about myself?
Reflection doesn’t change what’s there. It simply helps us see it more clearly and often, that clarity is where God meets us.
Creative Prompt: Circles of Color
A practice in noticing difference, wholeness, and belonging
This week I wanted to paint circles. This is mostly because one of my favorite Instagram artists talks about how much she loves circles, and when she’s anxious, she paints circles. They are also easy and pretty. And surprisingly meaningful, with no sharp edges, no clear beginning or end.
Today’s practice invites you to work with circles in a very ordinary way, and to see what they might gently teach you.
On a blank page, trace a bunch of circles in different sizes. You can use cups, jar lids, tape rolls, or freehand them if you like. Let them overlap or crowd one another. Then, color each enclosed space (each “piece” created by overlapping circles) a different color or choose colors slowly, one at a time, as you go.
There’s no picture to make, just shapes and color.
Watercolor Option
This is particularly fun in watercolor because you can watch the colors blend together or watch what new colors they make when they overlap!
Lightly trace your circles in pencil.
Using watercolor, fill each section with a different color or shade.
Some can be bold.
Some can be pale.
You can let colors bleed where they meet (wet on wet), or keep them separate (wet on dry).
Notice how the page changes as it fills.
Pause when it feels complete, not when it feels perfect.
Colored Pencil or Crayon Option
Trace your circles with pencil or marker or use this coloring page.
Choose one color per section, or rotate through a small set of favorites.
You can:
press hard in some places
color lightly in others
leave some sections barely touched
Wondering Questions
You might hold one or two of these gently while you work, or reflect on them afterward.
I wonder what it’s like to see many different colors sharing the same space?
I wonder if every section needs to be the same to belong?
I wonder which colors I’m drawn to and which I avoid?
I wonder how overlapping changes things?
I wonder what this page would say about community, or about me?
A Kid-Friendly Version
Invite kids to:
Trace lots of circles: big ones, tiny ones, silly ones.
Color every little space a different color (or just their favorite colors).
You can wonder together:
Which circle is your favorite?
What happens when circles bump into each other?
How many colors can fit on one page?
There’s no wrong way to do this.
A Closing Invitation
This is a practice of many parts making one page and noticing how boundaries and overlaps both create beauty.
When you’re finished, take a moment to look at the whole page. What would it be like to trust that there is room for all of this?
If you feel comfortable, I’d love to see what you create. When I share these prompts, I’ll always try to share what I’ve made too. Tag me on Instagram or comment below with a photo or reflection.
Creative Prompt: Write One Word with Your Non-Dominant Hand
A practice for loosening perfectionism and making space for wonder
Most of us were taught, early on, how to hold a pencil correctly, write neatly, and color inside the lines. Over time, that training can quietly turn into something heavier: the belief that our work, and sometimes we ourselves, need to look a certain way to be acceptable.
Today’s creative practice invites us to lay that down, just for a few minutes.
Instead of striving for beauty or clarity, we’ll practice receiving.
Instead of control, we’ll practice attention.
Instead of perfection, we’ll practice wonder.
Choose a single, gentle word. Something simple. Something kind.
Some ideas:
rest
light
here
beloved
enough
peace
home
Using your non-dominant hand, write that word slowly on the page, letting it be imperfect. Resist the urge to fix it! When the word is written, add color around the word, not inside it. Let the word remain as it is.
Watercolor Option
Lightly write your chosen word with your non-dominant hand using pencil or pen.
Take watercolor and add soft washes around the letters.
You can let color pool near some letters and fade away from others.
You can use one color or many.
Let the paint respond to the word rather than illustrate it.
When you’re finished, pause before adding anything else. Notice what’s already there.
This is not about making the word pretty; it’s about letting it be.
Colored Pencil or Crayon Option
Write the word with your non-dominant hand, or use this coloring page and the word “beloved”.
Choose one or two colors.
Color the space around the word using light pressure.
If you notice yourself wanting to “clean it up,” slow down instead.
The uneven lines and imperfect letters are part of the practice.
Wondering Questions
You might hold one or two of these gently as you work or return to them afterward.
I wonder how it feels to write without trying to get it right?
I wonder what this word needs from me today?
I wonder if this word feels different when it’s imperfect?
I wonder what happens when I don’t correct myself?
There are no right answers. Let the questions stay open.
A Kid-Friendly Version
Invite kids to:
Pick a word they like (or help them choose one).
Write it with their “other hand” or let them guide your non-dominant hand as you write.
Color around it any way they want.
You can wonder together:
What do you notice about your letters?
Was it hard or funny to use your other hand?
What does this word make you think of?
Celebrate the wobbliness. Laugh if it feels silly. This is part of the gift.
Why This Practice Matters
Using our non-dominant hand interrupts our habits of control and slows us down. It quiets the inner critic that says, This should look better than it does. In that interruption, something else becomes possible.
Wonder. Gentleness. A posture of receiving rather than proving.
Like entering the kingdom as a child, not because we’ve mastered something, but because we’re willing to be small, open, and attentive.
A Closing Invitation
You might place your finished page somewhere you’ll see it later. Not as a reminder of what you should do, but as a witness to what happens when you let go. Sometimes the most faithful thing we can do is stop trying to make things right and simply allow ourselves to be here.
If you feel comfortable, I’d love to see what you create. When I share these prompts, I’ll always try to share what I’ve made too. Tag me on Instagram or comment below with a photo or reflection.