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.