sacred story time (hide outside)

Last time, we continued our journey with Pooh deciding to visit his friend Christopher Robin for help.

As we read this week’s passage, I hope you’ll let it stir up what you may be hiding (or hiding from!). Come play, pray, and wonder with me.

So Winnie-the-Pooh went round to his friend Christopher Robin, who lived behind a green door in another part of the forest. "Good morning, Christopher Robin," he said.

"Good morning, Winnie-ther-Pooh," said Christopher Robin.

"I wonder if you've got such a thing as a balloon about you?"

"A balloon?"

"Yes, I just said to myself coming along: 'I wonder if Christopher Robin has such a thing as a balloon about him?' I just said it to myself, thinking of balloons, and wondering."

"What do you want a balloon for?"

Winnie-the-Pooh looked round to see that nobody was listening, put his paw to his mouth, and said in a deep whisper: "Honey!"

"But you don't get honey with balloons!"

"I do," said Pooh.

Well, it just happened that Christopher Robin had been to a party the day before at the house of his friend Piglet, and he had balloons at the party. He had had a big green balloon; and one of Rabbit's relations had had a big blue one, and had left it behind, being really too young to go to a party at all; and so Christopher Robin had brought the green one and the blue one home with him.

"Which one would you like?" He asked Pooh.

He put his head between his paws and thought very carefully.

"It's like this," he said. "When you go after honey with a balloon, the great thing is not to let the bees know you're coming. Now, if you have a green balloon, they might think you were only part of the tree, and not notice you, and, if you have a blue balloon, they might think you were only part of the sky, and not notice you, and the question is: Which is most likely?"

"Wouldn't they notice you underneath the balloon?" Christopher Robin asked.

"They might or they might not," said Winnie-the-Pooh. "You never can tell with bees." He thought for a moment and said: "I shall try to look like a small black cloud. That will deceive them."

"Then you had better have the blue balloon," Christopher Robin said; and so it was decided.

Noticing Prompt

Is there anything in your life that you are trying to keep hidden? Is there something you are trying to hide from? Take a minute to name it out loud. Does it feel too big to hold on your own? Do you need a friend or someone else to help you?

Play Prompt

Hide somewhere outside and observe the nature around you for a few minutes. Try not to move and see if any birds or insects will come close to you. Or bring a paper and pen with you and record the movements of the birds or insects. What does your paper look like when you are done? Is it full of movement?

Imagination Prompt

If you were to disguise yourself as something in nature, what would it be? Would it be a stationary tree? A busy bee? A beautiful flower? Imagine what it would be like to be a tree, bee, or flower. How would you feel? If you are with a child, make it into a game and switch pretend disguises every minute!

Prayer

Omnipresent God, there is nowhere I can hide from you, yet with you, I find a safe place to hide when I need it most. Thank you for the gift of your constant presence and your sheltering grace. Teach me to turn to you in every moment.

Download a PDF of this content for a Winnie-the-Pooh coloring page!

Book Review: The Apostles’ Creed

The Apostles' Creed for All God's Children series by Ben Myers

This series has been such a gift in my Sunday School class. We spent January-June reading just one page each week and using it to talk about the words of the Apostles’ Creed, the same words we say together in worship every Sunday. It’s a gentle, theologically rich, and beautifully illustrated resource that helps kids (and adults!) begin to wonder about what these ancient words really mean.

Some of our best discussions have come out of this practice. The simple text opens the door for deep thinking and big questions, which is exactly what I hope for in our time together.

One of the books in the series, The King of Easter, is a particular favorite. I loved it so much I gave a copy to every family in our church as an Easter present! It traces the surprising people Jesus meets and welcomes throughout His ministry, leading to the wonder of Easter morning. It’s joyful, inclusive, and deeply rooted in the good news of the gospel.

If you're looking for books that are both beautiful and theologically meaningful, this series is a treasure.

How the Incarnation and Sabbath Root Us in God’s Joy

A few days ago, I shared why I care so deeply about noticing, rest, creative play, and even coloring pages that help you slow down. We live in a world that is heavy with grief, stress, and noise. When Jesus says He came to give us life, and life abundantly(John 10:10), I believe that rest and play, especially contemplative, gentle play, are ways we begin to live that kind of life, even now.

When we make space, practice presence, play with reflection, and create with joy, we grow in intimacy with God. These small practices are not about escaping life, but becoming more fully alive to it with Him!

But I want to take this one step further, because there are two deep theological truths that make all of this not just comforting but profoundly Christian: the Incarnation and Sabbath.

The Incarnation, the mystery of God becoming human in Jesus, is the foundation of why noticing and play matter. In Jesus, God took on a body, lived in time and space, experienced touch, sound, story, community, and even delight.

“The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” (John 1:14)

This means that God doesn’t ask us to meet Him only in serious thoughts, but He also meets us in the stuff of everyday life. He affirms that physical things can carry grace. When we slow down and pay attention to the ordinary, we’re not being “less spiritual.” We’re stepping into the heart of the Gospel: that God is with us, not just above us. That God loves us in our ordinary and small humanity, not despite it.

If the Incarnation shows us that God enters our ordinary world, Sabbath teaches us how to live in that world with joy, trust, and peace. Sabbath isn’t just a day off or a break from work, but a way of remembering who we are and who God is. It’s a practice of ceasing, resting, delighting, and trusting.

“On the seventh day God rested from all His work.” (Genesis 2:2)

“The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath.” (Mark 2:27)

When we play, rest, notice beauty, or create something just for the joy of it, we’re participating in that same rhythm, a holy resistance to the lie that our worth comes from productivity. But we are not machines. We are beloved children of God.

And Sabbath is how we remember that.

To notice, to rest, to play with gentle presence… these are not soft distractions from “real faith.” They are expressions of real faith. Because the Incarnation tells us that God meets us in the ordinary and Sabbath teaches us to live in joyful, trusting rhythm with Him.

So if you find yourself weary, or wondering if these small practices matter, remember:
They are sacred.
They are grounded in the life of Jesus.
And they lead us into the abundance He promised.

Creative Prompt: Trace Your Hand

This week, take a moment to trace your hands, on a journal page, a scrap of paper, or even in the air. Slow down. Notice their shape. Their history. Their capacity. What have your hands carried lately? What do they long to hold?

Inside or around the outline, add colors, shapes, or words:
• What you’re letting go of
• What you’re receiving
• What you’re creating
• What you’re holding in prayer

This isn’t about perfect art, it’s about listening with your body. Let the marks become a kind of prayer. If you’d prefer, you can download the coloring page here.

When you're done, take a breath. Rest your hands in your lap. Ask God: “What do You want to place in my hands today?”

Wondering Questions
What are your hands tired from doing?
What would feel healing to hold?
What are you longing to create or offer?

Kid-Friendly Option:
Trace your hands and decorate each one with drawings or stickers showing things you love to do, like building, drawing, hugging, making cookies, petting animals!
Ask:
• What are your hands really good at?
• What fun or helpful things do you want to do with them this week?

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.

Art as Prayer, Presence, and Play

Making art, even "ugly" art, for its own sake can be a profound act of intimacy with God. It invites us into the posture of being rather than doing, receiving rather than producing. In a world that prizes usefulness and polish, creating freely without concern for outcome mirrors the childlike trust that Jesus praises, the kind of trust that simply delights in the presence of the Father.

Not because the art is impressive or useful, but because the act of creating draws us into presence. It slows us down and invites us to notice what we feel, what stirs inside us, and what we otherwise might be tempted to rush past. In the quiet of making, we make space. And that is the space we can find God already waiting.

Creative prompts, like the ones I love to share, aren't about performance. They're a way of practicing presence. A way of saying, “Here I am, Lord, in all my imperfections.”

When we make art without judgment, we say: “I am allowed to take up space. I am allowed to play. I am allowed to express what’s inside, messy or not.” That kind of honest expression is a type of prayer, not a polished liturgy or even an extemporaneous prayer full of big words, but a groan, a laugh, a whisper. And that prayer invites God in to the very real life we are already living.

In Scripture, we see God as Creator, not just of majestic mountains and galaxies, but also of dust and mud. And God has invited us into that work and when we do so without self-protection or pretense, we open ourselves to encounter with Him. The art may be “ugly,” but the moment is beautiful.

And maybe, when we let go of trying to make something “good,” we become free enough to simply be with God, like a child bringing a crayon drawing to a parent, not for approval, but for connection.

This is what contemplative play is all about. Noticing. Being present. Making space. Trusting that God meets us in the making.

Noticing, Contemplative Play, and the Abundant Life

If you’ve ever wondered why I keep talking about noticing, rest, creative play, or coloring pages that help you slow down… well, sometimes I wonder too. Life can feel so heavy, and these small practices can seem almost too gentle for the weight of it all. But it’s in those moments, when the grief, stress, and noise press in, that I realize how much I need them.

This world can be so sad, and we all carry burdens. So when Jesus says He came to give us life, and life abundantly (John 10:10), I find myself asking: How do we live that kind of life right here, right now, in the middle of all this?

I believe that rest and play are one of the ways we begin.

I talk a lot about making space, noticing, playing contemplatively (which really just means playing with some gentle noticing), and creating because they are tools that help us grow in intimacy and in love with God.

God invites us to join Him in rest, in play, and in creating, not because He needs anything from us, but because He loves us, and He knows we need those things.

Everything I’ve been sharing here (on Instagram, on my blog, in printables, and prompts) is meant to be a gentle help. A way to take one small step into a slower, more spacious life with God.

Noticing: Attention as a Form of Prayer

To notice is to pay attention with love. And that kind of loving attention is all over the Bible.

“Be still, and know that I am God.” — Psalm 46:10

When we slow down and notice, whether it’s the beauty of nature, the sound of a child’s laughter, or the ache in our own chest, we begin to recognize God’s presence with us. This kind of awareness is a form of prayer.

Like Mary at Jesus’ feet (Luke 10:39–42), we choose what is better by simply being present with Him.

“When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers… what is man that you are mindful of him?” — Psalm 8:3–4

This kind of noticing connects with a sacramental view of life: where ordinary things become windows into the holy.

Contemplative Play: Joy as a Spiritual Practice

Contemplative play is not childish. It’s childlike. (Remember that contemplative play just playing with some gentle noticing.)

“Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” — Matthew 18:3

To play is to trust, to risk delight, to rest in the truth that we are beloved, even if we’re not producing anything. This is the opposite of what the world tells us, that we must be productive to be of value. But that is not the way of the Kingdom.

And just like Sabbath, play is not extra, it’s essential.

“You shall go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and the hills before you shall break forth into singing.” — Isaiah 55:12

The Abundant Life: Receiving, Not Striving

Jesus says:

“I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” (John 10:10)

But abundance in God’s kingdom isn’t about more stuff, more hustle, or even more productivity. It’s about more presence. It’s about living from a deep well of love and trust and grace.

In noticing, we become aware of God’s nearness.
In play, we live into our identity as God’s beloved children.
In creating, we join Him in His holy work.

“In Him we live and move and have our being.” — Acts 17:28

A Final Invitation

If you’re feeling tired, rushed, or heavy-hearted, consider this your invitation to step into a more spacious way of being.

You don’t have to fix your whole life. You don’t need to have a perfect quiet time. Try just taking one small step: notice something beautiful, play a little with gentle curiosity, or create something just for the joy of it.

These are sacred things and God will meet you there. This is part of how we begin to live a life of abundance.

Practicing the Presence | Prompt 3: A Warm Mug

“Take a photo of a warm drink in your hands.”

Sometimes, presence begins with something simple: the weight of a mug, the steam curling upward, the way your fingers wrap around warmth.

Before we even speak a prayer, before we even name what we need, God is already here.
In the pause.
In the inhale.
In the tea, the coffee, the cocoa held between your palms.

This small ritual of making and receiving warmth can become a sacred act. A quiet invitation to come back to yourself… and to the One who is always near.

What Is “Practicing the Presence”?

Practicing the presence means remembering that God is with us, not just in church or during formal prayer, but in the ordinary and embodied parts of our day.

This is not about doing more. It’s about noticing what’s already here.

Brother Lawrence, a humble monk and kitchen worker in the 1600s, called this way of life “a continual conversation with God,” where every task and every moment became a doorway into communion.

Even (especially) the small ones.

Try This

Today, make yourself a warm drink.

It doesn’t have to be fancy. Just something you like. Hold the cup in your hands. Pause before you sip. Notice the heat, the scent, the taste.

Let this be a moment to practice the presence of God.

If you’d like, take a photo of your hands holding the cup as a visual reminder that God meets us here, in the quiet and the warm.

Ask yourself:

• Where is God in this moment?

• What am I receiving right now besides a drink?

• What does it feel like to let this be enough?

Tag your photo with #PracticingPresence or simply carry the peace of this moment with you through the rest of your day.

You are not alone. You are held.

Make Space: Practicing the Art of Noticing

Every month, we begin by making space. This month, we’ll do that by slowing down enough to truly notice—to pay attention, with gentleness and curiosity, to the world around us and the life within us.

Looking back, I think my journey into mindfulness and practicing the presence of God began even before I started my spiritual direction training with Selah. One of the unexpected turning points for me was reading Rob Walker’s book The Art of Noticing. (I loved it so much I wrote about it in three different blog posts!) Something about it cracked open a new way of seeing.

Walker’s central message is simple but transformative: Attention is not just a resource. It’s the gateway to creativity, connection, joy, even worship. So many of the stories he shares are about people who chose to notice something and then began collecting or curating it in fun, creative, even reverent ways. What a delight that is! To turn your gaze toward something ordinary and find it shimmering with meaning.

As he puts it:

“Every day is filled with opportunities to be amazed, surprised, enthralled—to experience the enchanting everyday. To stay eager. To be, in a word, alive.”
“What we do with our attention, in short, is at the heart of what makes us human.”

Yes. Yes. Yes.

So, this month, as we begin by making space, I invite you to take time to notice just a little more than usual. Notice with your body, your senses, your spirit. Below is a gentle list of noticing prompts to get you started. You don’t need to do them all. You don’t need to do anything, really. Just let one or two invite you back to presence.

Noticing Prompts

• What do you hear right now, if you listen very closely?

• What color is the light where you are?

• Can you feel the air on your skin? Is it warm, cool, still, or moving?

• What’s the tiniest thing you can see from where you’re sitting?

• Notice one thing that feels soft near you. What makes it soft?

• What shapes do you see in the shadows?

• Can you find something that’s moving very slowly?

• What do your feet feel like right now?

• What’s a smell in the air you hadn’t noticed until now?

• Look around—what’s something nearby that makes you feel calm?

• Can you hear your own breath? What does it sound like?

• Notice something you’ve seen a hundred times... as if it’s brand new.

• What color is the quiet today?

• What’s something outside that’s holding still? What’s moving?

If you tried one of these, how did it feel?
Did time seem to move differently?
Did you?

As always, there’s no pressure, just an invitation to make a little space for wonder. Let noticing be its own kind of prayer.

Kid-Friendly Idea: Make a Noticing Adventure!

If you have kids in your life, this can be a beautiful practice to do together. Turn it into a “Noticing Walk” around the block or a “Five Senses Treasure Hunt” in your own living room. You might ask:

• What’s the silliest sound you can hear right now?

• Can you spot a shape that looks like a letter or animal?

• What’s something you’ve never noticed on your way to the car?

• Can you find one thing to sniff, one thing to touch, and one thing that moves?

Let them collect “noticings” like treasures, draw them, or make up stories about them. There’s no wrong way to pay attention—and often, kids are the best teachers of this kind of wonder.

Creative Prompt: Make a Collage of What Gives You Life

When life feels heavy or rushed, it can be hard to see the small, specific things that breathe life and joy into our days.

A sun-warmed mug of tea
The sound of your child’s laughter
A certain shade of green on a walk
A passage of Scripture that speaks directly to your weariness

This week’s creative prompt is simple and soul-refreshing:

Make a collage of what gives you life right now.

Flip through old magazines, junk mail, scrap paper, or even fabric scraps. Cut out colors, shapes, images, or words that spark a sense of joy, peace, or delight.

Arrange them slowly. Let the process itself be part of the prayer. You’re not creating a masterpiece. You’re creating a mirror, a moment of noticing what is nourishing you right now.

You might be surprised what shows up.

If you don’t have access to lots of materials or collage elements, download this coloring page and just write a list. Keep it someplace you can return to over and over.

After you finish your collage (or list), take a moment to sit with it. Ask:

• What feels most alive to me lately?

• What do I want to make more space for?

• What might God be inviting me to notice, receive, or return to?

This is about paying attention to the gifts already present. No pressure to be profound. Just notice. Let it speak.

Kid-friendly option:

Invite your child (or inner child!) to join you in this practice:

“Let’s make a collage of all the things we love right now!”

Prompt with questions like:

• What makes you feel happy or brave?

• What’s your favorite food, place, or color?

• Who do you love being with?

They can cut pictures from kid-friendly magazines or draw their own if they prefer. Let them explain their collage to you. Their answers might surprise you.

Sometimes we don’t know what’s keeping us grounded until we take the time to name it. So this week, sit down with a glue stick, some scraps, and a little intention. See what shows up on the page and in your heart.

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.

An Examen for Kids: Talking to God about Your Day

This is a quiet time to talk with God about your day. You can close your eyes, or draw while you listen, or just be still. Let’s just notice what happened today together.

Who or what are you thankful for today?
Let’s thank God together!

What brought you joy today?
Did you dance with a friend until you fell down laughing?
Did you sing a silly song about turtles wearing pants?
Did you laugh at a joke your friend told you at recess?
God is joyful with you.

What made you sad today?
Did you stub your toe on an open door?
Did your friend say something that hurt your feelings?
Did you have to say a hard goodbye?
God is sad with you.

What excited you today?
Did you learn something new about something you love?
Did your teacher tell you that you did a great job in school?
Did you get a new pair of sneakers?
God is excited with you.

What scared you today?
Did you have a bad dream that made you scared?
Did you have to answer a hard question in front of the whole class?
Did a dog bark and scare you when you weren’t expecting it?
God is here to comfort you.

What made you angry today?
Did you get in a fight with a friend?
Did you get an answer wrong that you thought was right?
Did someone take your favorite toy?
God is big enough to hold your anger for you.

Where did you notice God today?
Did you see something beautiful in creation?
Did someone comfort you when you cried?
Did you share a snack with someone who didn’t have one?
God is with you every moment.

What do you hope for tomorrow?
Let’s tell God your hopes together.

*My house has only preteen+ at this point, so we have shortened this to just “high/lows” (and sometimes we include “buffalos” - just something funny/random) at dinner time. It’s a way to be engaged in noticing with each other. We even have a special high/low dance, which we are assured is very “cringe”.

sacred story time (befriend a bear)

Last time, we began our journey with Pooh under a tree, listening and wondering. This week, we find him climbing that tree in search of honey, singing little songs, thinking funny thoughts, and eventually taking quite the tumble.

As we read this week’s passage, I hope you’ll let it stir both your gratitude and your grumbles, your imagination and your need for comfort. Come play, pray, and wonder with me.

Pooh climbed and he climbed and he climbed, and as he climbed he sang a little song to himself. It went like this:

Isn't it funny
How a bear likes honey?
Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!
I wonder why he does?

Then he climbed a little further ... and a little further ... and then just a little further. By that time he had thought of another song.

It's a very funny thought that, if Bears were Bees,
They'd build their nests at the bottom of trees.
And that being so (if the Bees were Bears),
We shouldn't have to climb up all these stairs.

He was getting rather tired by this time, so that is why he sang a Complaining Song. He was nearly there now, and if he just stood on that branch ...

Crack!

"Oh, help!" said Pooh, as he dropped ten feet on the branch below him.

"If only I hadn't——" he said, as he bounced twenty feet on to the next branch.

"You see, what I meant to do," he explained, as he turned head-over-heels, and crashed on to another branch thirty feet below, "what I meant to do——"

"Of course, it was rather——" he admitted, as he slithered very quickly through the next six branches.

"It all comes, I suppose," he decided, as he said good-bye to the last branch, spun round three times, and flew gracefully into a gorse-bush, "it all comes of liking honey so much. Oh, help!"

He crawled out of the gorse-bush, brushed the prickles from his nose, and began to think again. And the first person he thought of was Christopher Robin.

Noticing prompt

Who is the first person you think of when you are in trouble? What is it about that person that brings them to mind? Are they helpful? Kind? Comforting? Are you the kind of person that people seek out for help?

Play prompt

Try writing a gratefulness haiku and a complaining haiku (5-7-5 syllable structure). Notice the feelings that each provoke as you write. Here’s my example (I’m not sure if it’s complaining or gratitude! Maybe a little of both!):

Green leaves with bird poop
Out my window as I write.
That means birds were here.

Imagination prompt

What would it be like to be a bear in the town where you live? What would bring you joy? What would be frustrating? Imagine befriending a bear. Where would you go? What would you do together?

Prayer

Welcoming God, help me to take all my feelings to you, whether gratefulness or frustrations. Thank you for always inviting me, even in my unpleasant moments! Thank you for being someone I can go to for help with anything.

Download a PDF of this content for a Winnie-the-Pooh coloring page!

The Voice That Offers Freedom

I chose this image because when I look at those stingrays, I think they look so free and happy.

In spiritual direction, I’ve learned to listen closely for one particular sign of the Holy Spirit: anything that offers more freedom.

Not just a fleeting sense of relief, but like a deep breath after holding it too long. Like shoulders dropping as the weight you’ve been carrying finally slips off. Like space in your chest where anxiety used to live. Like permission to be fully yourself without apology.

It feels like stepping out into a spacious field, with room to run and realizing this is where you were meant to be all along.

Freedom doesn’t always come with fireworks or fanfare. Sometimes it’s as quiet as peace, as simple as clarity, and as holy as rest. It often shows up when you choose love over fear, when you stop trying to earn your worth, when you say no to something that once had power over you.

When the Spirit is present, freedom often follows. Not necessarily ease, but lightness.

"Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom." —2 Corinthians 3:17
Freedom is one of the primary marks of the Spirit’s presence. When God is near, there’s less fear, less shame, less pressure to perform and more room to live fully and truthfully.

Isn’t it amazing that this is one way we can know the voice of Jesus? He is always offering more freedom, more grace, more rest for the weary soul. He said, “If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed” (John 8:36). Jesus doesn’t coerce, He calls us out of our stuck places and invites us into healing, trust, and lightness of heart.

And yet, if we’re honest, we often sit comfortably in our own enslavement. Just like the Israelites who longed for Egypt when the wilderness felt too uncertain, we cling to what’s familiar, even if it binds us. We resist change. We fear the wide-open spaces of real freedom.

But Jesus keeps calling. He keeps speaking and tugging at our hearts. He keeps inviting us into the kind of life where we are no longer driven by fear, but led by love.

So the next time you’re discerning, ask yourself: Does this bring more freedom?

If the answer is yes, you just might be hearing the voice of God.

All the ways you can bloom

I continue to think about blooming, which shouldn’t be surprising given the current stage our beautiful wildflower garden (see photo). In my last post, I talked about how you can bloom through rest and play, which I think is my preferred method of blooming. And of course, when we think of blooming, we usually imagine sunlight and stillness, soft petals and spring. And yes, some blooming does happen that way: in moments of rest, joy, or playful creativity, when our hearts feel light and our calendars finally give us room to breathe.

But it occurred to me that we can also bloom through other things as well, including expressed sorrow (grief/lament) because it keeps our hearts soft (we may not usually think of this as blooming!). Because blooming may not always be the beautiful spring flowers kind of blooming. It’s not always pretty. It’s not always peaceful. And it’s never one-size-fits-all.

To bloom is to unfold more fully into who you already are. It’s the process of becoming and that journey can begin in all kinds of soil.

So here are just a few of the ways its possible to bloom, if we allow blooming to happen:

When you stop hustling for your worth. When you let go of productivity as identity. When your soul finally exhales and finds enoughness in simply being.

When you step into delight. When you create without a goal. When wonder is welcome and joy isn’t postponed.

When loss breaks you open. When you feel the ache and still choose to stay soft. When tears water something deep underground.

When you learn resilience by living it. When hard seasons refine you rather than define you. When growth feels more like grit than grace.

When you’re seen and held without needing to perform. When love lets you lower your guard and come home to yourself.

When something beautiful flows through you. When you co-create with God. When you feel most alive in the work your soul was made to do.

When pouring yourself out connects you to something bigger. When giving isn’t draining, but deeply aligning.

When shame starts to loosen its grip. When old wounds begin to close. When you reclaim parts of yourself that were buried or silenced.

No matter the path, one thing is always true: Blooming happens when it’s safe to unfold.

And that’s exactly what spiritual direction offers.

It’s not about giving you answers or fixing you. It’s about creating sacred space to notice what’s already stirring. A place to pause and listen. To name your truth and be met with compassion. To explore joy, pain, doubt, and wonder without judgment.

In spiritual direction, there’s no pressure to be in a certain season. You can be in full bloom or lying fallow. Grieving or creating. Wrestling or resting.

Your whole self is welcome.

The director doesn’t point to a path and say, “Go bloom.” We walk beside you, gently noticing where the light is already reaching in. We remind you that blooming doesn’t mean forcing. It means becoming. And that becoming takes many beautiful forms.

You can bloom through rest.
You can bloom through struggle.
You can even bloom in the dark.

And wherever you are in that process, there’s space for you here.

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.

Click the image to download.

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.

Book review: Maybe

I love the idea of buying sweet children’s books for high school and college grads, and Maybe by Kobi Yamada is the perfect book for that purpose. I recently bought this one for a college grad and it seemed to suit her perfectly! (But I liked it so much, I had to buy another copy.) With its gentle encouragement and whimsical illustrations, Maybe is a reminder that our potential is vast, our worth is inherent, and our future is still full of beautiful unknowns. It’s the kind of book that speaks to the heart, no matter your age, and offers a quiet, hopeful blessing for whatever comes next.

What does it mean to bloom?

My post on Instagram a few days ago got me thinking more deeply about what it really means to bloom. I love using that word with pictures of flowers, but I didn’t want it to be some trite caption, like, flowers bloom and you can too! I wanted it to really mean something.

I keep coming back to the idea of blooming as gentle growth toward our true selves. Or as I wrote in that post: to unfold into the fullness of who you are with freedom, abundance, and joy. Just like a flower doesn’t force itself open, blooming is a process of allowing, not striving. It happens when the conditions are right: sunlight, water, space.

For people, those conditions often include rest, play, and safety.

One of the places where those conditions are intentionally nurtured is in spiritual direction. Spiritual direction helps create space where blooming becomes not only possible, but often, inevitable. It doesn’t “make” you bloom the way sunlight makes a flower open. But it turns toward the light with you. It makes space for it. It witnesses the slow, often hidden, unfolding of who you are becoming in God.

Here’s how spiritual direction supports blooming:

It offers safety and stillness.

In a noisy, fast-paced world, spiritual direction gives you permission to pause, listen, and be listened to without agenda. That kind of presence is deeply nourishing. It creates the right internal conditions for blooming.

It helps you notice where life is already stirring.

Spiritual directors are trained to listen for grace, for freedom, for the gentle movement of the Spirit. They help you see where growth is happening—even if it's underground.

It honors all seasons.

Spiritual direction doesn’t rush your blooming. It holds space for winter, for pruning, for lying fallow. It trusts that dormancy isn’t deadness—it’s preparation.

It returns you to the true self.

Blooming isn’t about becoming something new and shiny. It’s about unfolding into who God created you to be all along. Direction gently peels away what’s false or forced and helps you reconnect to your God-given core.

And it often invites contemplative play, not always with crayons or crafts (though those are welcome!), but through wonder, metaphor, silence, curiosity, and imagination. The kinds of play that open the soul instead of performing for others.

In short: Spiritual direction is like a quiet garden where your soul gets room to breathe, grow, and rest in the presence of the Divine Gardener. Blooming tends to follow, not because you're trying harder, but because you're finally safe enough to unfold.

So when I say “bloom,” I mean that.
Not pressure. Not productivity.
Just a holy, spacious becoming.

For parents who want to help their children to bloom: it’s not about pushing or shaping them into something. It’s about creating the kind of safe, spacious environment where they feel deeply seen, loved, and free to unfold in their own time. That might look like making time for unstructured play, honoring their natural rhythms, inviting their questions without rushing to answer, or simply delighting in who they already are (“I’m so glad you’re you.”). Like a steady gardener, you don’t bloom them, but you can protect the soil, offer warmth, and trust the holy process already at work in them.

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.