In August 2025, I had a moment with God that I haven’t been able to forget. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic. It was quiet… but deeply personal. In this vision, everything around me was dark. Not in a fearful way—just empty. Still. Silent. And then there was Him. Light. Not a harsh or blinding light, but a warm, steady presence that felt both powerful and incredibly gentle at the same time. I felt His hands come to my face. He lifted my face upward, almost like a father wou

In the silence where I sit alone, With prayers I barely speak or own, There is a gaze that meets my ache— A holy watch that does not...

This summer (2025) I hiked one of the hardest hikes in my life. I say this knowing that I live in “outdoorsy intensive” small town Colorado. Where everyone is training for their next ultramarathon, month long river trip, mountain biking trek, free solo....and the list goes on. I was hiking my first class 3 mountain, The Twilight peaks in the San Juan Mountains—a three-summit route known for its steep exposure, technical terrain, and moments that make you negotiate with God a

In July 2025, I spent about 40 hours at Christ in the Desert Monastery in New Mexico. The journey there was rugged, long, and remote—just like the internal terrain I’ve been walking. Upon arrival, I opened the gate to the guesthouses, where there’s no formal greeting—just a sign pointing to your assigned room. It was in that moment that I felt it: Silence. Not just the absence of noise, but a deep and almost palpable stillness. I sensed God whispering something through it—“