Boundaries, Healing, and the Culture of Love: The Quiet Work of Renewal

**NOTE: Last night I listened to a discussion that stirred something deep in me, and it inspired today’s reflection.

When I think about boundaries, healing, and the culture of love, I realize how much of this has unfolded for me since moving to Fargo. Life in Illinois was full and busy, with constant commitments and responsibilities pulling me in different directions. In Fargo, I’ve been given the gift of quiet, which has allowed me to slow down, step back, and spend more intentional time with God. This quieter pace has become fertile ground for what I now see as the quiet work of renewal.

We often hear the call to “change the world,” but it can feel overwhelming like a burden too heavy to carry. When I hear that phrase, I sometimes imagine huge movements, world leaders, or people who have platforms far beyond my reach. But the truth is, real transformation begins much closer to home. When your culture changes, your community’s culture changes, and then the whole world’s culture changes.

This truth echoes the wisdom of St. Teresa of Calcutta, who said, “If you want to change the world, go home and love your family.” She understood something profound: world change doesn’t start on a grand stage. It begins in the ordinary, in the everyday, and in the way we treat those closest to us with love, patience, forgiveness, and kindness.

In my own life, I’ve had seasons when I needed to take a step back from organizations I was heavily involved in, from friendships that left me drained, and even at times from family relationships that weighed heavily on my heart. These choices weren’t easy. At first, I felt guilt for creating distance. I wondered if I was letting people down or failing to live up to expectations. But through prayer and reflection, I’ve learned that boundaries are not rejections. They are acts of love, ways of protecting peace in my own personal culture so that I can show up more lovingly, more authentically, and more fully for the people God has entrusted to me.

My faith reminds me that even Jesus withdrew from the crowds. He went up the mountain alone to pray. He sought quiet spaces to rest and to reconnect with His Father. If the Son of God needed solitude, how much more do I? Those pauses are not selfish; they are sacred. They are where healing begins. They are where I remember who I am: God’s beloved daughter. They are where God equips me to return to others not empty or resentful, but with a heart renewed, ready to love.

For me, healing has meant learning the hard but necessary art of saying “no.” No to unhealthy expectations. No to being everything for everyone. No to staying in patterns that steal my peace. Each “no” creates room for a greater “yes.” Yes to forgiveness, yes to hope, yes to grace, and yes to joy. This isn’t always easy, and sometimes I stumble. But even in my failures, I see how God works. When my heart shifts, even slightly, the ripple spreads: my family feels more peace, my friends experience more compassion, my community begins to reflect the love God is planting in me.

And that’s what St. Teresa meant when she said to “go home and love your family.” Love starts small. It doesn’t need a stage, a spotlight, or a worldwide audience. It begins in the quiet culture of our own hearts and homes: how we greet one another at the end of a long day, how we speak in moments of frustration, how we choose to forgive, how we decide to serve one another in ordinary ways. These small beginnings matter, because love is contagious. It spreads outward to our families first, then to our communities, and eventually to the world.

That is the quiet work of renewal. Personal transformation is never just personal; it is the seed of cultural renewal. When I change, my culture changes. And when we choose to love those closest to us, as Christ calls us to, we participate in something far greater than ourselves. We participate in God’s quiet, powerful work of changing the world one heart, one home, one relationship at a time.

Grace in Simple Moments

Yesterday I made the 4.5-hour drive with a heart full of anticipation. What unfolded reminded me that sometimes the most ordinary days hold the most extraordinary graces.

There was nothing flashy about the setting - just a warm breeze, sunshine spilling across the yard, and the scent of fresh-cut grass hanging in the air. Yet, in that simplicity, I felt God’s presence so clearly. I’ve been praying and pondering what it means to truly know and live as His beloved daughter, and yesterday became a lived answer to that prayer. To sit, breathe, and simply be without striving, this is where God speaks gently and reminds me that His love is already mine.

That quiet awareness deepened as the evening unfolded. The highlight was CC stepping onto the stage as Wilbur in Charlotte’s Web. Watching her embody such joy and courage was a gift. With floppy ears and a beaming smile, she radiated life, heart, and wonder. She was indeed “some pig - terrific and radiant.” What struck me most was not just the performance itself but the way her joy overflowed into all of us. It was impossible not to smile, not to feel lifted, not to see God’s light shining through her.

Driving home, I carried with me more than the memory of a play. I carried the reminder that joy is contagious, that love shows up in laughter and shared presence, and that God’s grace is often revealed in the faces of those we love. Yesterday was a nudge to rest in who I am - His beloved - and to see His goodness stitched into both the quiet and the celebratory moments.

Lord, thank You for the gift of joy, for the courage of children who remind us to shine freely, and for the grace of ordinary days that reveal Your extraordinary love. Help me rest in the truth that I am Your beloved, and may I carry that truth into the world with peace, gratitude, and joy. Amen.

Adventures in Faith and Imagination

I’ve always believed that stories have the power to open hearts, spark imagination, and draw us closer to God. Over the years, I’ve had the privilege of writing books that blend faith, creativity, and wonder. This season, I’m especially excited to share not just one, but two new releases that have been on my heart for a long time.

As a writer, educator, and lifelong learner, I find great joy in helping children and families encounter the beauty of God in ways that are approachable, joyful, and inspiring. These upcoming books reflect that calling: one invites young readers to celebrate the saints through creativity, and the other welcomes them on a backyard adventure where faith, imagination, and even dinosaurs come together in the most delightful way.

Whether you’re a parent, grandparent, teacher, catechist, or simply someone who loves to share meaningful stories, these books are designed to create special moments of faith and fun. And what makes these projects even more meaningful is that all proceeds will go directly to organizations that support abused children, so every page turned is also a step toward healing and hope for those in need.

Miriam’s Heavenly Tea Party - A Coloring Book for All Saints’ Day

Arriving just in time for All Saints’ Day, my new coloring book, Miriam’s Heavenly Tea Party, invites children to gather around the table with some of the Church’s most beloved saints. From St. Francis to St. Teresa of Calcutta, young readers can bring these holy men and women to life with color while learning their stories in a fun, prayerful way.

This book is perfect for classrooms, parish activities, family celebrations of All Saints’ Day, or simply a cozy afternoon of coloring that nurtures faith and creativity.

Mary, Dinosaurs, and the Wonders of God: A Backyard Adventure with Momma Mary - A Children’s Story for the Holidays

Just in time for the holiday season, I’ll also be releasing my next children’s storybook: Mary, Dinosaurs, and the Wonders of God: A Backyard Adventure with Momma Mary. This whimsical and faith-filled tale follows two children as they explore the beauty of God’s creation with Mary by their side even discovering the playful world of dinosaurs along the way!

It’s a story of faith, imagination, and discovery. Perfect for reading together during the holidays, gifting to loved ones, or adding to your family’s bookshelf for year-round inspiration.

Sharing Faith Through Story & Creativity

Both of these new books reflect my passion to help

children and families discover the wonder of God through story. Whether through coloring pages filled with saints or a backyard adventure that mixes faith with dinosaurs, my hope is that these books will spark joy, nurture curiosity, and strengthen faith for readers of all ages.

Pre-Order & Purpose

Both books are now available for pre-order at my website.

Witness Through Words: Reflections on St. Maximilian Kolbe

Last night, I went to see "Triumph of the Heart," the latest movie about St. Maximilian Kolbe. His story of sacrificial love and courage stirred something deep within me. It reminded me of my days as a journalist for The Catholic Post, a former newspaper for the Diocese of Peoria, when I felt a profound responsibility to capture stories that carried the light of Christ into people’s homes. Even though I’m no longer in that role, my love of writing remains a central part of who I am, and St. Maximilian's witness reminded me why words matter so much.

St. Maximilian used every tool available to him - pen, press, radio - not for personal gain, but to spread truth, defend the faith, and encourage hope. Watching the movie, I realized that while his final act of stepping into another man’s place in Auschwitz was the ultimate testimony, his earlier dedication to communication was also a form of martyrdom: day after day, he poured himself out through the written and spoken word so that others might know Christ.

That realization struck me. My own writing may never carry the gravity of his, but I’ve always believed that stories - whether news articles, reflections, or children’s books - can become channels of grace. They remind people they are not alone, that God is present, that truth and love still triumph in a world so often shadowed by fear and division.

I left the theater feeling challenged to see my writing, both past and present, as a continuation of that mission: to be a witness through words, to use the gifts God gave me as a way of bringing light into dark places.

Lord Jesus, thank You for the vocation of writing and for the example of St. Maximilian Kolbe. Help me to use my words wisely, with courage and humility, so that they point others toward You. May my pen, like Kolbe’s, always serve Your kingdom.

A Sacred Moment at Blaze Pizza

While having lunch at Blaze Pizza today, I witnessed a moment of quiet grace that stirred my heart. A family of seven or eight entered, their children waiting with a stillness that felt rare in such a busy place. Their father sat with them, while their mother, balancing a baby close to her heart, placed the order with a quiet strength and tenderness.

As the meal was prepared, the father and older daughters filled water cups for everyone. Meanwhile, the younger children visited softly with one another, calm and content until the pizzas were brought to the table.

Then it happened.

One of the youngest little boys turned to his mom and asked, “Mom, can we pray now so we can eat?”

For a moment, I thought I had misheard him. But then, in unison, I heard: “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.” Together they prayed, right there in the middle of a busy restaurant.

I was stunned in the best possible way. I had never seen a family I didn’t know pray publicly before a meal in a restaurant. It wasn’t a performance. It wasn’t for show. It was natural, faithful, and rooted in love. In a world where it often feels easier to keep faith private, this small act of devotion radiated something powerful.

It reminded me of the theme of the National Christ Child Society Conference I attended last week. We spoke about the courage it takes to live our mission boldly in today’s world: serving children, advocating for families, and letting faith guide our actions, not just in church pews or behind closed doors, but wherever God places us.

This family’s prayer was a living witness to that same theme. They didn’t hide their light. They didn’t wait until they were home. They offered thanks in the middle of an ordinary lunch, reminding me that holiness is often found in the most ordinary moments.

In that simple, public prayer, this family became the light of Christ for me. Their quiet witness reminded me that faith doesn’t have to be loud to be powerful; it only needs to shine where it is, unafraid and unashamed. Just as the conference encouraged us to carry Christ’s light into the world, that family brought it into a pizza shop, and in doing so, they lit a spark in my own heart.

Waking Up in Song: Carrying the Light Forward

This morning I woke up with a song on my lips and in my heart. The lyrics echoed softly as I opened my eyes, almost as if they had been sung over me during the night. I didn’t plan it, and yet the melody and words were there, rising up from within me. Waking up in song is more than coincidence; it feels like prayer, like the Spirit’s way of reminding me of what I most need to carry forward.

In the glow of the National Christ Child Society Conference, with its theme “Be the Light,” the timing of these lyrics feels especially significant. Singing in the quiet morning reminds me that light often begins in hidden, unexpected places like a melody stirring in the early dawn. Light doesn’t always arrive in dramatic ways. Sometimes it comes as a gentle nudge, a reminder to let joy and hope lead before anything else has a chance to take root.

The conference called each of us to become bearers of light for children, families, and communities in need. It challenged me to look closely at my own life: Am I radiating light in my words, in my work, in my presence with others? The song that woke me up feels like a personal answer. Light is not only what I do; it’s also what I carry inside. If my heart is filled with song, even in sleep, then God is showing me that His light is already planted within me, ready to shine outward.

I think of the women I met at the conference - their dedication, their generosity, their passion for service. Each of them reflected light in a unique way, like many voices blending into a choir. My own morning song is a continuation of that harmony, reminding me that when we share light, the music of hope and love keeps playing long after the gathering ends.

Today, I want to carry that song with me, not only in melody but in action. To sing with my life by speaking words of encouragement, offering compassion, and choosing joy. To let my light rise like morning song, so that others may hear it and feel its warmth.

Jesus, Light of the World, thank You for planting a song of joy within me.
Help me to carry that song into the lives of others,
so that my words and actions may reflect Your love.
May my life be a hymn of light, drawing others closer to You.
Amen.

Be the Light: A Journey of Faith and Hope

This past weekend, I traveled to Bethesda, Maryland, for the National Christ Child Society Conference, held under the theme Be the Light. Before the conference officially began, we took a day trip into Washington, D.C., that became much more than sightseeing; it became a living reflection of what it means to carry Christ’s light into the world.

Our first stop was the Opportunity Shop run by the DC Chapter of the Christ Child Society. This high-end resale shop raises money to fund the chapter’s programs for children and families in need. Walking through the shop, I saw how gently used items - clothing, jewelry, household goods - are transformed into hope and opportunity for others. The shop embodied the theme so beautifully: ordinary things, given with love, become extraordinary light for those in need.

From there, we went to the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. Stepping into the Basilica was like stepping into a sacred embrace. The brilliance of the mosaics and the peaceful silence reminded me that Christ is the true Light of the world, and Mary reflects that light by leading us closer to Him. In that space, I felt the call of our Society’s mission: just as Mary said “yes” to God, we are called to say “yes” to serving children and families. Surrounded by Christ Child members from across the country, I felt encouraged to bring this light back to my own community.

Next, we visited the Washington Monument. Rising high above the Reflecting Pool, its marble tower gleamed in the afternoon light. To me, it stood as a symbol of aspiration, an invitation to live lives marked by integrity, service, and hope. Even in playful moments, like holding the monument in my hand for a photo, I was reminded that each of us, no matter how small we feel in history’s sweep, is called to be a light in the time and place where God has planted us.

At the World War II Memorial and the Lincoln Memorial, I reflected on the light of courage and sacrifice. The WWII Memorial honors men and women who gave their lives so others could live in freedom. At the same time, the Lincoln Memorial enshrines the memory of a leader who guided a divided nation. Their legacies challenge us to be the light in times of division by defending dignity, praying for peace, and seeking reconciliation. Just as these memorials shine as reminders of resilience, our own lives are meant to shine with God’s love in difficult times. 

When the conference began, one of the highlights was hearing Dr. Ben Carson deliver his keynote address. He spoke about his upbringing, the challenges he faced, and the way his mother instilled in him the importance of reading. Literacy, he said, opened the door to his future. His story resonated deeply with me and with the Christ Child Society’s programs, many of which focus on literacy for children. 

As I listened, I thought about why I write children’s books. Stories shape hearts and minds, spark imagination, and plant seeds of faith and hope. Books can open a child’s world, just as they did for Dr. Carson, and provide a foundation for dignity and opportunity. Writing for children is, for me, one way to be the light as I place words and images into young hands that affirm their worth and point them toward God’s love. Dr. Carson’s story was a confirmation that literacy is not just about learning to read; it is about opening doors to the future and helping children see the light within themselves.

Throughout the weekend, I was also blessed by the people God placed in my path. Getting to know MaryAnne and Barb, fellow members of the Quad Cities Chapter, deepened my appreciation for the friendships and shared mission that sustain us. An unexpected joy was reuniting with Sister Miriam Caritas (Beth McMurray) from the Sisters of Life. Her community’s charism - to protect and enhance the sacredness of every human life - mirrors the heart of the Christ Child Society’s mission. Their witness reminded me that being the light is not something we do alone, but together, through community and shared purpose.

As I reflect on the weekend, I see how every moment, the Opportunity Shop, the Basilica, the monuments, Dr. Carson’s words, and the people I encountered were all threads in a single tapestry. They reminded me that to Be the Light means transforming the ordinary into hope, saying yes to God’s call, aspiring higher, honoring sacrifice, investing in literacy, cherishing life, and building community.

I left Washington, D.C., and the Christ Child Society Conference in Bethesda with a renewed sense of purpose. Just as Mary carried the light of Christ into the world, I want to say “yes” in my own ways to serve, to love, to build, and to shine with His light. In a world and a nation that so desperately need healing and hope, the call to Be the Light feels more urgent and more beautiful than ever.

The whole group that attended the National Christ Child Society Conference in front of the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, DC.

Christ Child Society of the Quad Cities Members: Mary Anne Dockery-Jackson, President (Center), Barb Singleton, Layett Coordinator (Right), and myself, Website and Social Media Coordinator.

A window dedicated to Mary Virginia Merrick,
Foundress of the Christ Child Society

The Washington Monument

The Lincoln Memorial

Dr. Ben Carson (pictured with his wife, Candy) gave a keynote talk on his life and the importance of literacy at an early age. His mother, who had less than a third-grade education, ensured that her sons received a good education and were successful in life.

An unexpected reunion with Sister Miriam Caritas of the Sisters of Life. We haven't seen each other in more than 20 years. It was a joy and a blessing to catch up with her. 

St. Carlo Acutis and the Mission of the Christ Child Society

Today, the Catholic Church declared Carlo Acutis a saint. Though only 15 when he died, Carlo showed the world how holiness is possible in the ordinary, everyday moments of life. His love for Christ and his ability to see technology as a tool for good inspire me deeply.

As I reflect on his canonization, I see a connection to my own work with the Christ Child Society of the Quad Cities. Our chapter, like all across the nation, is rooted in the vision of our foundress, Mary Virginia Merrick, serving Christ through serving children. In our community, that means providing layettes for newborns, coats and clothing for schoolchildren, books and toys for families in need, and countless other acts of love. We exist to meet the material, emotional, and spiritual needs of children and families, reminding them they are seen, valued, and loved.

My role as Website and Social Media Coordinator sometimes feels behind the scenes, yet I now see it through a new lens. Carlo used the internet to spread faith and joy, and I strive to use these same tools to spread awareness of our mission. Every story shared, every update posted, and every picture uploaded has the power to touch someone’s heart. It may inspire a new member to join, a donor to give, or a struggling parent to reach out for help. Just like Carlo believed that even the digital world could become a path to holiness, I see our Christ Child mission shining through in the work I do online.

How fitting it is that this coming weekend I will be attending the National Christ Child Society Conference in Maryland, where the main topic will be the very thing Carlo championed - social media as a means of connection and mission. His canonization today feels like a providential reminder that my work is not just communications, it is ministry. It is another way of answering the call to serve Christ through serving His children.

Another sign of God’s timing, St. Carlo will also be featured in my upcoming children’s coloring book, Miriam's Heavenly Tea Party, set to release in time for All Saints’ Day. His story of youthful holiness, love of the Eucharist, and creative use of technology will inspire children to see that sainthood is also possible for them. I feel honored to include him among the saints whose lives continue to shine light for the next generation.

Carlo reminds me that holiness is not limited to the convent, the rectory, or the mission field; it can be found in a Facebook post, a website page, or an Instagram story, as long as it points people closer to love. His life inspires me to be braver in using technology with purpose, knowing that when I amplify the mission of the Christ Child Society of the Quad Cities, I’m helping to carry forward both Mary Virginia Merrick’s legacy and Carlo’s example of evangelizing through modern tools.

St. Carlo Acutis, pray for me, for all Christ Child Society chapters, and for every child and family we serve. May our digital presence always be a beacon of Christ’s love.

Happiness is an Inside Job

This morning I sent a text after a photo popped up on my Facebook Memories. It was from five years
ago - me preparing to burn my old journals. I remember how much resistance I felt at the time, clinging to those pages filled with pain, confusion, and old versions of myself. It was Mary Ann’s firm yet loving encouragement that gave me the courage to let go. She reminded me that healing doesn’t mean forgetting, but choosing to release what no longer serves the soul. I only agreed to the burning after reading through them one last time, a ritual of both remembering and releasing.

Shortly after I sent that text, I received a reply from Ray, Mary Ann’s son. He shared that he’s having a sticker made with a ladybug and the words, “Happiness is an inside job.” His timing felt like no coincidence. That phrase was one of Mary Ann’s constant refrains . . . her way of reminding me that happiness is not handed to me by others or dependent on circumstances, but grown from within. The ashes of those journals, heavy as they were, became the soil where healing could take root. And the ladybug, small and bright, symbolizes the joy that emerges once that hard work of release has been done.

For ten years, Mary Ann was my therapist. She was steady, wise, and unwavering in her belief that I could grow through even the hardest struggles. Over time, she became more than a therapist; she became my friend. She never sugarcoated the truth. She taught me that healing doesn’t come quickly or easily, but through hard work. It was through showing up, digging deep, and doing the uncomfortable things that ultimately set the soul free.

She also had another favorite saying: “Shift Happens.” At first, it always made me smile with its playfulness and play on words, but the meaning ran much deeper. Life changes. Sometimes in ways we choose, sometimes in ways we don’t. Healing requires leaning into those shifts, allowing ourselves to transform rather than resist. That phrase became so important to me that I had it tattooed on my forearm, a permanent reminder that change is inevitable, and with it comes growth if I am willing to embrace it.

The ladybug, the butterfly, and Mary Ann’s wisdom all speak to the same truth. The ladybug whispers of joy in small moments. The butterfly reminds me that transformation requires struggle, darkness, and patience before wings can unfold. And Mary Ann’s words remind me that both happiness and healing are inside jobs, born from courage and hard work.

Now, as I continue my own journey, I see how much of her wisdom lives in me. I hear her words when I start looking outward for validation. I remember her laugh when I forget to notice the little blessings in front of me. And I carry her lessons with me everyday: that happiness is an inside job, that shift always happens, and that transformation is worth the struggle. They remind me that healing is hard work, but also that new life, joy, and freedom can emerge if I trust the process, just as the butterfly trusts its wings.

When Ladybugs Whisper and Butterflies Rise

A ladybug lands, a quiet sign,
Happiness blooms from the heart, not the line.
Not in the world, nor the praise that I seek,
But inside my soul, steady and meek.

A butterfly stirs where shadows reside,
Shift happens, transformation inside.
The struggle, the waiting, the breaking apart,
Are the very beginnings of wings for the heart.
 
Ladybug whispers of joy in the small,
Butterfly teaches to rise after fall.
Together they tell me of work and of grace,
Of healing that happens in time and in place.
 
Mary Ann’s wisdom still lives in my day:
Happiness is an inside job – choose it, I pray.
Shift happens, change comes, and courage takes flight,
From cocoon into freedom, from shadow to light.

In-to-Me-See: Learning Intimacy with God

Today I listened to a talk that my friend Amy sent me: Sr. Miriam James Heidland’s “Intimacy with God: Receiving the Heart of the One Who Loves Us” from the 2018 Power and Purpose Conference. 

It felt like no coincidence that Amy was the one who sent it. Her very name means Beloved, and that word has been echoing through everything God has been stirring in me lately. I have been practicing vulnerability by opening up about what God has been doing in me regarding intimacy and learning to accept my identity as His beloved. Sharing these tender stirrings felt risky, but Amy is such a good friend, always giving me space and gentle encouragement, which permitted me to let myself be seen.

In our conversation, Amy said something that stopped me in my tracks – she told me that intimacy means “in-to-me-see.” The beauty of that definition struck me, especially because just this weekend, another friend had said those exact same words to me. I couldn’t help but smile at the way God weaves threads together, repeating a truth until I really hear it. It was as though He was whispering: Pay attention, this is for you.

Sr. Miriam’s talk felt like an extension of that same message. She emphasized that intimacy with God is not earned by doing or performing but is received by opening up and allowing oneself to be seen. That resonated so deeply with where I am right now. I have been realizing that intimacy means bringing God my authentic self, not the polished, capable version, but the vulnerable, unfinished, even wounded self. To receive His gaze there, in the unguarded places, is both terrifying and liberating.

Her reminder that intimacy is the very heart of the Christian life also connected with my journaling about humility. Humility creates the space for intimacy because it strips away pride, defenses, and control, allowing for genuine connection. It allows me to come before God small, weak, and dependent, which is precisely where His love can meet me. That is where intimacy shifts from being an idea to being an encounter.

The most striking part for me was recognizing how consistently God has been speaking this message: through my journaling, and through both friends, and now through Sr. Miriam’s talk. It feels as if God is lovingly, persistently repeating Himself: Stop striving. Stop performing. Let Me see you. Let Me love you. I sense His invitation to daily carve out space not to achieve but to receive, not to prove but to rest, not to hide but to let Him in.

Intimacy with God is in-to-me-see, and it begins with letting myself be seen as I truly am, His beloved.