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Pilgrimage of the Heart

I’m going to Italy. Even writing the words feels surreal, like speaking a dream aloud before it’s had a chance to unfold. I’ve never been before. And if I’m honest, I’m not a particularly confident traveller. I overthink hotels I booked, go over my itinerary multiple times, and triple-check my passport before I leave the house. There’s a part of me that would rather stay tucked into the safety of the familiar. And yet here I am, packing my suitcase and my courage, because some journeys are worth the trembling. The truth is that travel and faith have always felt intertwined. Both ask us to step beyond what we know. Both demand a willingness to get lost, to ask questions, to stumble and learn. And both have the power to change not just our surroundings, but the shape of our souls. I know many people feel nervous when discussing their faith. It’s like trying to navigate a foreign city without a map, unsure of the right words, and afraid of making a mistake. But faith, like travel, is less...
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Every Child Matters — And So Does Every Stranger

I need to start with an apology if my reflections have felt heavy lately. It’s not because I want to stay stuck in the heaviness; it’s because that's where my heart has been these days. And honestly, I think part of following Jesus is learning to sit with what’s hard, not to wallow in it, but to let it change us, soften us, wake us up to what really matters. What has been weighing on me is how much fear appears to be shaping the world around us. Maybe you feel it too. It’s there in the headlines, in conversations, and in the quiet corners of our communities, this growing sense that difference is dangerous, that some people don’t belong, and that love should have limits. When I see newcomers struggling to build a life here, or refugees being spoken about as if they’re a problem to solve rather than people to cherish, my heart aches. And when I hear Indigenous friends and neighbours say they’re still fighting to be heard, still waiting for justice, still asking for something as basic...
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Why Just Us Kids?

I’ve been thinking a lot about why we need church at all in a world so consumed by media. Our kids are surrounded by screens, algorithms, and stories that scroll past faster than they can blink. TikTok trends dictate who to be this week, Marvel heroes reveal who gets to save the day, and headlines remind them of a world on fire—climate crisis, wars, and injustice. With so many voices shouting for their attention, it can feel almost impossible to know what truly grounds them. That’s why we need church. Not as another noise in the mix, but as a counter-story. A place that is slower, rooted, real. A place where ancient songs and old stories still hold wisdom, where silence can be holy, and where children can hear—maybe for the first time in a week—that they are not consumers or clickbait, but beloved children of God. Out of that conviction grew our newly branded Sunday School program, “Just Us Kids.” The name itself is a play on words: just us—because kids need a space that’s tru...
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Ripples of Renewal: Finding Joy in What Is Emerging

The headlines can feel overwhelming some days, but even in the midst of it all, some stories remind us of life’s stubborn resilience. Like seeds pushing up through concrete, joy has a way of surprising us. Renewal is always possible. It reminds me of my own gardening story. I used to be an avid gardener; in fact, I started the community garden in Valley Ridge. What began as a simple wish to grow vegetables close to home blossomed into a project that brought neighbours together: hands in soil, laughter in the air, tomatoes ripening on the vine. For years, that garden gave me joy. But seasons shift. My life shifted. And I discovered there’s nothing wrong with letting go of what once lit me up to make room for something new. Recently, I’ve been surprised by joy in a different way. A dear friend moved back to the city. For four years, I treasured her semi-annual visits. But her return has brought even more joy than I imagined: a new rhythm of friendship, unexpected laugh...
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Holy Confusion

Sometimes, God confuses me. Let me back up. Like any mom or partner, I think I know what’s best for my family. I pray for my husband and child to be safe, for good things to come their way, and for them to be happy. That sounds good, doesn’t it? But the truth is—life doesn’t always play out like that. Kids get hurt. Partners struggle. Dreams don’t always unfold the way we imagined. We pray for success, and sometimes survival feels like the holiest win. Does that mean God isn’t listening? I don’t think so. If anything, it reminds me of Job—the one who shook his fist at the heavens and asked, “Why?” Job never got a tidy answer. What he got instead was presence. God didn’t cause Job’s pain, but God did show up in it. Maybe that’s the surprise: God doesn’t hand us a script to follow, but invites us into a bigger story than we ever planned. A story where prayers are answered not always with what we asked for, but with what we didn’t even know we needed. Sometimes we have to step back, take ...
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Looking Back, Looking Forward: A Century of Church

  This summer, I had the extraordinary privilege of preaching my way through 100 years of the United Church of Canada. Ten sermons. Ten decades. Ten stories of courage, creativity, justice, and grace. It felt less like writing a series and more like walking a pilgrimage, stepping into the footprints of those who came before us while daring to imagine the road ahead. I cannot overstate my pride in being a minister in this denomination. Proud that we were born from a bold vision of unity. Proud that we have faced hard questions about justice and reconciliation and refused to look away. Proud that we have stood with the marginalized, opened our doors wider, and proclaimed a Gospel that actually looks like good news. This is not a church content with comfort or nostalgia. It is a church that chooses, again and again, to risk love in a complicated world. Preaching through our history taught me more than I expected. Each decade reminded me that the Spirit has always b...
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Jesus. Coffee. Bacon. Naps.

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You may have noticed my giant coffee mug—the one that boldly declares '  Jesus. Coffee. Bacon. Naps.  It’s not just a statement piece. It’s also the subtitle of this blog. And maybe, just maybe, you’ve been curious about why. Truthfully, it started as a joke. A kind of holy ode to the small delights that hold me together on any given Tuesday. But like most good jokes, there’s truth hidden in it—truth that’s been slowly steeping in my spirit like a strong cup of morning brew. As a mother to a 19-year-old who lives for the next thing on the calendar—concerts, dinners, events, anything that offers movement and meaning—I find myself curious. Curious might not be quite the right word. Envious? No, not really. Confused? Occasionally. But mostly I’m intrigued by the way some people are hardwired for forward motion, for the next flash of excitement. For my kid, an empty calendar can feel like a fog settling in. For me? Sometimes it feels like a sigh of relief. I’m not a raging ex...
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