Listen to the Beginning Again Recording Here
I’ve Been Wondering . . .
There is something about a new year—and maybe even more about turning 50 next month—that invites reflection.
As I begin to transition into this new decade and look back on my forties, the one thing I feel most called to do more of is write.
Writing has always been one of the most meaningful ways I make sense of life. And yet, over the past several years, I lost touch with my writing voice.
I’ve been asking myself: How do I get it back?
Losing — and Listening for — a Writing Voice
For a long time, I trusted a quiet inner knowing that said, It will return when you’re ready.
Writing has never felt like a chore to me—it has always emerged when I was living a question, wrestling with something in life, or arriving at an insight (sometimes with clarity, sometimes with more confusion).
That faith in timing has been helpful.
But it doesn’t actually put words on the page.
Sometimes we simply have to begin.
Even if it feels vulnerable.
Even if we’re unsure how it will land.
Even if we don’t quite know what we’re doing yet.
So that’s what I’m doing.
I’m beginning again—writing and sharing.
I reflect, ponder, and wonder about people, faith, love, psychology, and spirit often. These reflections inform my work and my ongoing commitment to grow, evolve, to live from a place of wholeness and to have a meaningful and purposeful life.
Wonder, Friendship, and a Sacred Evening
You may wonder what this photo has to do with wonder?
This is Lizzy—one of my dearest friends, someone I’m lucky to see maybe once a year.
This photo was taken by her husband over Christmas. We were sitting on her mother’s couch that evening, talking about the kinds of things you only share with your most beloved friends—the truths, the tenderness, the spiritual path of finding your way and then losing it.
That evening, she asked me, What has helped you the most in your life these past years?
What Has Helped Me Most
I answered without hesitation: prayer.
I’ve learned to pray in a very different way, and it has quietly changed my life.
It was a sweet evening—unexpected and hard to explain. Just time on a couch, soft Christmas lights, a shared gaze, and a feeling of deep recognition it was a special moment and I was blessed. I knew in my body that this was wonder.
