When the Light Is Too Bright
This reflection traces how presence and grace live in tension: between clarity and kindness, between comfort and awakening,
between the Christ who soothes and the one who stirs.
Wisdom is how you live.
This reflection traces how presence and grace live in tension: between clarity and kindness, between comfort and awakening,
between the Christ who soothes and the one who stirs.
A quiet remembrance on how every inhale is borrowed and every exhale is a gift — a reflection that begins in a shared bed, expands through family, and ends in communion with all that breathes.
Jesus isn’t just the Redeemer.
He’s the Reviver—the Protagonist of Time,
walking backward through the chaos
to make sure love still makes it to the end.
Sometimes the songs we sing badly stay with us the longest. “Have Thine Own Way, Lord” was one of those for me—a melody I once mumbled through, now a prayer that shapes the way I live. What I missed in tune, I’ve learned in time: that grace doesn’t need perfection to be heard. It only asks that we stay soft enough to be shaped.
The Trinity is not only Father, Son, and Spirit—it is also written in us as love, forgiveness, and kindness. One eternal, one fragile; one source, one echo. Together they form the shape of infinity, with Christ at the crossing where heaven and humanity meet.
This past year has been one of letting go, following sparks, facing fear, and listening for whispers. Along the way I’ve remembered faith as my compass — Grace, Presence, and Spark — and begun to see life not as poles in opposition, but as the thread in between that makes us whole. Mid-life, I’ve found, is not a crisis but a crossing.
Time is not abundant — it is fragile, fleeting, and holy. This reflection explores what it means to serve not out of convenience but out of urgency, recognizing that life itself is the gift and how we spend it is the offering back.
Hustlers have become role models, teaching exhaustion as ambition. Unless we choose presence over hustle, we risk passing down scarcity instead of care.
“The soul must abandon all her own understanding and dwell in the dark.”
— Meister Eckhart
I used to measure my life by what it offered—how useful I could be. But becoming a spark isn’t about usefulness. It’s a rhythm, one that moves through grace and lands in presence.