Anxiety has a way of lying to us. It whispers, “You’re stuck. You’ll never be yourself again. You’ll always feel this way.” But the Word of God speaks a greater truth: “Fear not, for I am with you.” (Isaiah 41:10)

I watched Pope Leo speak today in front of an auditorium filled with 16,000 young people right here in America. Sixteen thousand. Just imagine that many hearts gathered together—not for a concert, not for a celebrity meet-and-greet—but to praise God, ask real questions, and grow in faith. It moved me more deeply than I expected. When the students began asking questions, one that stood out was about AI, because honestly… how could it not?

It is with a heavy heart that we mark the passing of the incredible artist Drew Struzan—an illustrator whose work shaped not only Hollywood advertising but also the way many of us remember our childhood, our cinema-memories, and the magic of film. He died on October 13, 2025, at the age of 78.

There’s something so humbling about realizing that the Creator of all things — God Himself — desires a relationship with us. We don’t have to strive or perform to earn His love; it’s already ours through Christ. But when we truly love God, our hearts long to please Him — to live in a way that brings joy to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Each Person of the Trinity — Father, Son, and Spirit — reveals a different layer of God’s love and invites us to walk closer with Him.

There’s a quiet question that whispers through every heart at one time or another — “How can I be sure I’ll go to Heaven?” It’s not a question born of fear, but of love. Love for God, love for others, and a longing to be near the One who made us. And the beautiful truth is this: God wants us to know His heart and to rest in His promise of eternity with Him. Have faith.

There’s something so sacred about food shared after a long day’s work — especially when it’s cooked with love and served with purpose. I often think about one of my favorite Bible moments found in John 21:1–14 — the story of Jesus appearing to His disciples after His resurrection. They had gone back to what they knew — fishing. The waves lapped against the boat, the sun rising slowly as their nets came up empty again and again. These were seasoned fishermen, weary in both

Yesterday, I caught myself doing that thing again—staring at my phone, scrolling through nothing. I had opened it to answer a message, and before I knew it, forty-two minutes had vanished in the TikTok–Instagram–Email vortex of distraction. The pasta water was boiling over on the stove. My dog sat patiently by her bowl staring at me. A text from a friend sat unread. And I had that familiar sinking feeling again—that little ache behind the ribs—the feeling of time slipping awa

Ever wake up and just feel like the world has its hands on its hips, staring you down and saying, “Really? You again?” Yeah. That was me today. I don’t even know why. Nothing catastrophic happened. I didn’t trip and fall in public or accidentally like someone’s photo from 2009 while Facebook stalking (though, honestly, give me time). It was just one of those weird heavy days—the kind where your heart feels a little wrinkled and your brain starts asking dramatic questions l

Traditions aren’t always loud or elaborate. Sometimes they begin quietly and grow year by year. Maybe it’s a favorite dish passed down through generations, the way everyone joins hands before a meal to pray, or how someone always sneaks a bite of dessert before dinner (every family has that person). These steady little rituals give us roots. They remind us not just of where we come from—but who we belong to.