After my wife cleared her to-do list one day, I picked up a marker and wrote, "Sit with Jesus." She says she might leave it there permanently.

Grief doesn't arrive on schedule. Sometimes it shows up in a Walmart parking lot, in a phone notification or in the fleeting hope that someone you've lost might still be here.

A loud green chair with a quiet lesson worth remembering.

Sometimes healing looks like steak dinners, late-night talks, and friends who show up week after week.

In a world that moves fast, I’m drawn to stories that take their time—quiet, ordinary lives that remind us what really matters. This week, I’m sharing a few that have stayed with me.

Goodbyes, aging pets, and the ache of loss. Sometimes, life just feels heavy. But in the rain outside a Village Inn, one small message reminded me I’m not carrying the loss(es) alone.

What first sounded like background noise became an unexpected lesson in discernment. From birdsong to ancient prayers, this reflection invites you to tune your ear to the right kind of noise.

Sometimes, mispronounced words carry big memories. Here's a playful, heartfelt look at how quirky speech keeps loved ones close.

We talk about “passing the time” like it’s no big deal. But what if time isn’t something to get through, but rather, something to honor?

Most of us will be forgotten within a few generations. That’s not a tragedy — it’s an invitation. The goal isn’t to be remembered, but rather, to be faithful.

Not every dream ends with a bang – some slip away quietly. But there's grace to be found in quiet endings and there's sacredness in letting go.

A quiet riverside honeymoon gave us a chance to unplug, notice the world around us and carry a little stillness back home.

Sometimes, the life you hoped for shows up while you’re busy living the one you’ve been given.

Discerning the voices around us with humility and hope.

True connection happens when we slow down long enough to appreciate funny moments, a waitress who comes to the rescue and even the gentle ribbing from a friend.

A reflection on losing my dad 25 years ago today.

When was the last time you let God lead you into silence? Not just a break from the noise, but a real, intentional pause?

We often dance through life by holding on to memories or trying to forget the past, but what if we focused on the present instead?