Creative Prompt: Draw a map of somewhere sacred.
Some places hold something more than just memory. They become sacred to us, holy ground, even if no one else would know it.
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It might be a place where you felt seen. Where you took a deep breath after holding it in for too long. Where you met God, or beauty, or a sense of peace you couldn’t explain.
This week’s creative prompt is simple:
Draw a map of somewhere sacred to you.
You could sketch a real place:
A childhood hideaway, your grandmother’s porch, a favorite hiking trail, a chapel.
Or you could imagine an inner place, an emotional or spiritual sanctuary.
What would the path look like? Are there landmarks? A quiet bench? A gate? A river? A kitchen table? You don’t have to make it pretty. You just have to make space to remember.
Use lines and shapes. Add color or don’t. Label the parts, or leave them unnamed.
Let your hand move, and let the memory (or desire) rise. Let the map be a kind of prayer. A quiet gratitude. A longing.
While you work, ask yourself:
What made this place sacred to you?
Is there a story here that still lives in you?
What emotions surface as you revisit it on paper?
Is there a way to return—not in body, but in spirit?
Maybe your map is a way back.
Kid-friendly option:
Ask: If you could draw a map to anywhere you’ve ever felt happy, cozy, or full of wonder, what would it look like?
Invite them to:
Include silly or sweet landmarks (the Giggle Tree, Hot Cocoa Rock, the Blanket Fort).
Add paths, signs, secret doors.
Give it a name!
You can also try:
“Let’s make a map of a place we love as a family.”
Draw it together. Add hearts or stars where special things happen.
Encourage storytelling. Ask them what lives there, who visits, what they do. It doesn’t have to be real to be true.
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.
And if your map doesn’t feel “done”. Maybe that’s okay too.
Some sacred places are still unfolding.
Practicing the Presence | Prompt 2: Hands at Work
“Capture hands at work—or well-used tools.”
There’s something sacred about hands. The ones that make, mend, stir, soothe, carry, scrub, write. The ones that belong to you and the ones that have shaped your life in quiet ways.
We often rush past the work of our hands. We focus on what we’re getting done, not on how God might be meeting us in the act of doing.
But what if washing the dishes could become a kind of prayer? What if holding a pencil, stirring soup, or folding a wrinkled shirt could be a place where we notice the nearness of God?
What Is “Practicing the Presence”?
It’s a spiritual practice rooted in the idea that God is always with us and that we can learn to be with God in return, not just in church or on our knees, but in the rhythms of daily life.
Brother Lawrence, a 17th-century monk who worked in the kitchen of his monastery, called it “the holiest and most necessary practice in the spiritual life.”
He wrote:
“We can do little things for God… we turn the cake that is frying on the pan for love of Him, and that done, if there is nothing else to call us, we prostrate ourselves in worship before Him…”
God meets us in the middle of flour-dusted counters, paint-smeared fingers, muddy boots.
Try This
Take a moment today to notice the hands at work in your life.
Maybe it’s your own: scrubbing, stirring, typing, holding.
Maybe it’s someone else’s: planting a garden, tying a shoelace, sanding a piece of wood.
Or maybe it’s the worn tools themselves: threadbare dish towels, paintbrushes with frayed ends, a much-used wooden spoon.
Take a photo if you like. Not for show, but as a way to slow down and say: “God, you are here in this.”
Ask yourself:
What are my hands doing today?
What love is hidden in this ordinary task?
How might this small act become a place of communion?
If you’d like to share what you find, tag your photo with #PracticingPresence or leave a comment below. I’d love to see through your eyes.
Make Space: begin with just one pause
This week, try beginning with just one small pause, a moment to clear a little room in your heart, your schedule, or even your table.
Light a candle before breakfast.
Set aside one thing that’s crowding your space or your mind.
Open a blank page and take a breath before you write or draw.
Lately, I’ve noticed how often I reach for my phone
when instead, I could simply pause. Breathe. Be present in the moment. It feels like such a cliché! I wish I could say I was past it. But the pull is real, and I’m learning to notice that moment before the reach to choose stillness instead.
This week I’ve been carrying some heavier things, so I’ve been extra gentle with myself and intentionally made more space for quiet art time and reflection. It’s helped more than I expected.
One thing I love about spiritual direction is how much it honors this kind of space-making. When you schedule time with a spiritual director, you’re making an appointment with someone else to help you make space for God.
And honestly? That’s often the only way it happens. It’s hard to do on your own, especially for a full hour.
But you don’t need an hour. Or a perfect setup. Sometimes, making space is just:
turning down the noise
setting down the phone
asking God, “What do You want to grow here?”
Even a few quiet moments can change the shape of your day.
For Life with Little Ones (or Big Distractions):
Making space might look like:
a few deep breaths while your child plays
turning off music for one quiet car ride
a short breath prayer as you fold the laundry
I remember a breath prayer I used a lot, especially when my kids were little: (inhale) Lord, lift up my head. (exhale) I can’t do this without you.
Even this can be enough.
Creative Prompt: Draw a doorway you’d like to step through.
Creative prompts like this one are designed to help you slow down, listen inwardly, and connect with God through play, color, and curiosity.
This week’s invitation is simple: Draw a doorway you’d like to step through.
What kind of doorway is calling to you today? Is it small and secret, hidden in a tree? Wide and golden, opening into the sun? Ancient? Magical? Ordinary but holy?
Maybe it opens into a place of peace, rest, possibility, healing, or joy. Let your doorway become a prayer. A quiet hope. A brave imagining.
Let your imagination lead. Don’t worry about making it perfect, just make it yours.
Use whatever materials feel good: crayons, markers, paint, collage. Let it be messy or abstract if it needs to be. This isn’t about getting it “right.” It’s about making time to play, rest, and listen to what’s stirring in you.
(If you’d rather not start from scratch, here are some doorway coloring pages you can color instead, add your own features, or simply write a few words.)
While you work, ask yourself:
What do you hope is on the other side?
What do you feel as you stand before it: curiosity? hesitation? longing?
What if God is already on the other side, waiting… and also right here with you?
When you're done, take a few quiet minutes to sit with what you’ve made. Ask God to help you notice what’s showing up. Is there something in you that needs tending, noticing, or blessing? Or maybe this was simply a time of joy and rest. That’s holy too. Thank God for that, and carry it with you.
Kid-friendly option: draw a portal to anywhere they’d like to go. Ask:
What does your door look like?
Does it need a password?
What happens when you open it?
Encourage storytelling and imagination. Maybe their door leads to a cloud library, a garden of dreams, a starship, or Grandma’s kitchen.
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. You can tag me on Instagram or leave a comment below. I love witnessing the quiet beauty of your creative prayers.
Play Prompt: Take a Walk
Rogationtide is an old tradition of walking the land to pray for the earth and its fruitfulness. This week, we're reviving it through contemplative play.
Take a slow nature walk, alone or with kids, as a way to bless the land beneath your feet. Pause to notice, name, and give thanks. What’s growing? What’s changing? What’s calling your attention?
My friend Elise and I put together a free guide (with prayers adapted from the Book of Common Prayer and Every Moment Holy) and a printable scavenger hunt for our church, and I wanted to share it with you today. Let it help you turn a simple walk into a sacred practice.
Practicing the Presence | Prompt 1: Sunlight Through Leaves
“Photograph sunlight filtering through leaves.”
There is something quietly holy about the way light moves through the world.
Not just the sunrise or sunset kind of light—but the soft, ordinary light that dapples through trees on your morning walk, glints off the kitchen counter, or spills across the carpet when no one is watching.
This light doesn’t demand attention.
It just arrives.
And when we notice it—when we stop for a moment, breathe, and look up, we’re reminded:
God is here, too.
What is “Practicing the Presence”?
It’s an old phrase, most often associated with Brother Lawrence, a 17th-century monk who found God not only in prayer but in washing dishes.
It means learning to be with God in the everyday: in the chopping of vegetables, the tying of shoes, the folding of laundry. In birdsong. In traffic. In sunlight through leaves.
It’s not about doing more, but about noticing more.
About looking again.
Try This
At some point today, pause and look for the light, not just where it is obvious, but where it’s slipping in quietly.
Take a photo if you like. Not to perform or impress, but to practice presence. To hold the moment. To remember.
Ask yourself:
What does this light reveal?
What is God like in this moment?
What happens in me when I pause to notice?
If you’d like to share what you find, tag your photo with #PracticingPresence or leave a comment below. I’d love to see through your eyes.
Creative Prompt: Mark-making
creative prompts designed to help you slow down, listen inwardly, and connect with God through play, color, and curiosity
This week’s prompt is simple—but surprisingly powerful.
Make marks. That’s it.
Scribble. Doodle. Dot. Swipe. Smudge.
Use a pencil, a crayon, a paintbrush, a finger dipped in dirt. Let your body lead before your mind catches up. Try to fill a whole page.
Mark-making is a sacred yes. A quiet way of saying: “I’m here.” It’s not about skill—it’s about presence. Each line, swirl, or smudge becomes a prayer without words. It reminds us: the Kingdom of God is near, even in this tiny, messy mark.
You can fill a whole page with little scratches.
You can trace circles again and again.
You can make a mess—on purpose.
Questions for reflection:
What did you think about when you were making marks?
How did you feel while you were making different kinds of marks?
Looking at the marks now, how do you feel about them?
You might light a candle, play quiet music, or go outside and make marks in sand, snow, or sidewalk chalk. You can use the attached sheet to give you a place to start. Or just sit with a piece of paper and give your body permission to move.
You don’t need to understand it. Just begin.
Kid-friendly option: Invite children to explore how different movements make different marks. Encourage storytelling through the marks: “This is a dragon’s breath!” or “These are sleepy stars.”
What happens when you move fast?
What if you press really gently?
What if your crayon is a magic wand? Or your finger is a butterfly?
If you feel comfortable, I’d love to see what you create! When I share these prompts, I will always try to share what I create as well. You can tag me on Instagram or leave a comment below.
Creative Prompt: Draw your soul as a garden.
Welcome to the first in a new series of creative prompts designed to help you slow down, listen inwardly, and connect with God through play, color, and curiosity.
This week’s prompt is: Draw your soul as a garden.
What would be growing there?
Is it wild or cultivated?
Are there weeds or secret paths?
What’s blooming—or waiting to bloom?
You can use crayons, markers, paint, or even collage. It might be messy. It might be abstract. That’s okay—this isn’t about making something perfect. It’s about making time to play and rest and listen to what’s stirring in you. (If it’s easier, I’ve attached a coloring page to do instead! Add your own flowers and garden features, or simply write a few words.)
When you are done, take a few minutes to reflect and respond to God. Ask Him for help noticing, and lift up in prayer what might need tending. This could also just be a time of rest and play! If that’s how it felt to you, thank God for the time.
Kid-friendly option: Let them draw their own gardens and tell the stories out loud.
If you feel comfortable, I’d love to see what you create! When I share these prompts, I will always try to share what I create as well. You can tag me on Instagram or leave a comment below.