Among The Lilies

Perspective Changes Everything
Have you ever looked back on a difficult season only to discover that someone else experienced it completely differently?
Recently, I was reminiscing with my children about some of their favorite family memories. They enthusiastically shared stories of camping in the backyard, laughing together, and making the most of an unexpected adventure. What caught me by surprise was realizing that this treasured memory took place during one of the hard seasons in our family's life—while I was sick in the hospital during COVID.
That conversation reminded me how much perspective shapes our experience. Often, we become so focused on the problem in front of us that we miss the beauty, growth, and blessings that God is weaving behind the scenes. His ways are not our ways, and His view is far greater than our own.
I've also been reflecting on a simple lesson from my garden. Beautiful flowers were being devoured by caterpillars, and at first, all I could see was the damage. But when I shifted my perspective, I began collecting the caterpillars and watching their incredible transformation. Together, my son and I observed them form chrysalises and emerge as beautiful butterflies. What once seemed like destruction became a front-row seat to one of God's most amazing miracles.
In this episode, we'll explore how changing our perspective can transform the way we navigate challenges, deepen our trust in God, and help us surrender control. Sometimes the situation doesn't change—but the lens through which we view it does, and that can change everything.

Motherhood & the Mystery of the Cross
In this episode I'm on the Logos Podcast, Fr. Max and Fr. Joseph sit down with me for a conversation on motherhood, spiritual warfare, and the deeper meaning of sacrifice. Drawing from my own life as a wife and mother, I reflects on the hidden suffering that often accompanies motherhood and how it reveals something profound about the Christian life. What does it mean for a mother to live the words of Christ — "This is my body, given for you"? And how can women confront the lies that distort their identity and vocation? Together they explore the beauty of the feminine genius, the spiritual battle for identity in modern culture, and the redemptive meaning of suffering in light of the Cross. This episode is a reflection on motherhood, sacrifice, and the mystery of love that gives itself away.

Are you having a Lenty Lent? It may feel like your failing or things are going wrong, but maybe you are right where the Lord wants you. Its just a bit of pain from the composting process of our souls. 
Lent is not a gloomy interruption of life. It is the Church handing us winter on purpose.
 
In the garden, winter strips everything down. The bright flowers are gone. The branches look skeletal. You walk outside and think, Nothing is happening here.
 
But beneath the surface, roots are deepening. The soil is being replenished. Worms are turning what fell and died into nourishment. What looks like stillness is actually preparation.
 
Lent does the same.
 
It takes away the noise. It asks us to fast. To sit in silence. To feel our hunger instead of numbing it. To look honestly at what needs pruning in our lives. And at first it feels like a loss. Like grey skies feel to me today. Like not being able to see more than a few feet in front of you.
 
But Lent is not about deprivation for its own sake. It is about increasing capacity. Uniting ourselves to Christ in his passion. Praying in the garden of Gethsemane. Facing Calvery. 
 
When you prune a plant, you cut away what once looked fruitful. You remove even good branches so that better fruit can grow. That is uncomfortable. It feels like diminishment. But the gardener is thinking ahead to spring.
 
And the compost pile is not a symbol of failure. It is where the old life breaks down so it can become nourishment for new life. In the spiritual life, our disappointments, our faliures, our surrendered dreams, even our grief, none of it is wasted. Given to God, it becomes rich soil.
 
Lent is when we allow that decomposition to happen. 
 
We stop clinging. We let attachments die. We allow deeper parts of the heart to awaken. The grey days reveal what the bright days sometimes hide. They show us how much we depend on consolation instead of God Himself.
 
And then Easter comes.
 
Not as a surprise, but as fulfillment. The buds that appear are not random. They are the result of hidden work. The joy feels fuller because we remember the winter. The Alleluia sounds louder because we walked through the silence.
 
Spring does not erase Lent. It proves it was necessary.
 
I'm trying to die to myself and give God my fiat. This Lent I'm also saying "I am the handmade of the Lord, be it done unto me according to your word". I'm surrendering myself to the hands of the Gardener.
 
And I pray for patience while the compost of my soul continues decomposing, I remind myself  that growth cannot be rushed. His ways are not my ways. But I trust and surrender. 
 
The Gardener knows when to prune.
He knows when to wait.
He knows when to bring the sun.
 
And even when you can only see three feet in front of you, the roots are going deeper than you realize.

As we say goodbye to 2025, we're reflecting on a year filled with more milestones than we ever imagined. We lift up our friends who are suffering, trusting them to the Lord, knowing that "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted" (Psalm 34:18). Embracing that we are beautifully broken, we allow Christ's light to shine through our wounds, for His power is made perfect in weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9).
"A humble soul does not trust itself but places all its confidence in God. God defends the humble soul and lets himself into its secrets, and the soul abides in unsurpassable happiness which no one can comprehend."

Behold I am the haindmaid of the LORD be it done unto me according to your word!
Andvent is a season of waiting, a pause before the messiah is born. We need to sit and wait and prepare our hearts. The Angle asked our Lady to be the mother of God, she paused and then declaired..
Behold I am the haindmaid of the LORD be it done unto me according to your word!
Mary teaches us the pattern: Listen. Believe. Receive. Give praise. At the Annunciation, she offers her FIAT — a yes that lets God's life enter the world. One hand of the Pietà cradles Christ, the other stays open. So must ours. How and where is God calling you to give him your FIAT?
Spiritual motherhood means emptying ourselves so we can receive divine life and nurture it through the Holy Spirit. We take souls to Our Lady, hide under her mantle when afraid, and offer ourselves as a total gift. The world needs good moms — women who radiate Christ's love and suffer with one another. The feminine genius is vulnerability, staying soft when life tries to harden us.
Mama Mary, make me a virtuous woman like you. Help me give my FIAT, be a light that cannot be dimmed, a heart that stays soft, and a soul that radiates Christ's love. Amen.