The Hiker

So much planning is required for this outdoor pursuit. The subject here is the serious hiker — the kind who sets out on long paths that lead into the middle of nowhere. These individuals are deeply connected to nature and attuned to the moods of the wilderness. They know where to settle in and make camp for the night.

Recently, a beautiful conversation unfolded with an old friend — a man of considerable experience on the trail.

We touched on so many subjects, but of course, true to form, the conversation turned to his walk with God. His answers were sincere, and understanding his path gave real insight into how the Lord works.

Nature

The beauty of nature is captivating, and the Lord uses it to draw the hiker into a deeper understanding of that beauty — a beauty that ultimately points back to Him. God is ever-present, but for the hiker, He speaks in a different language.

Jesus The Hiker

We must take into account that our Lord withdrew from the crowds to be with His heavenly Father. This was not escape — it was communion. Prayer in solitude was the very heartbeat of His public ministry.

Jesus was led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil. This was no accident and no weakness. It was a deliberate entry into the wilderness — Spirit-led, purposeful, and redemptive. He fasted for forty days and forty nights, and afterwards He was hungry. Scriptures says He was hungry — and that hunger became the opening the enemy sought to exploit. (Matthew 4:1-2)

The Attacks

The first assault was directly connected with that prolonged fast. The tempter approached and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command that these stones become loaves of bread.” (Matthew 4:3) Our Lord’s answer came swiftly, drawn not from power but from the Word of God itself: “One does not live by bread alone.” (Luke 4:4)

This is the pattern the enemy follows to this day: he does not attack when we are at our worst, but when we are at our most human — when the body aches, when the stomach is empty, when the spirit has poured itself out in prayer. When our Lord was hungry, St. Hilary teaches, “it was not because He was overcome by want of food, but because He abandoned His manhood to its nature. For the devil was to be conquered, not by God, but by the flesh.”

Public Ministry

With the call comes ministry.

Twenty years of teaching a Bible study was part of that call — and the hours spent in preparation opened my spiritual eyes to a deeper understanding of the Word. Daily Mass gently broke through boundaries I never realized existed. But it was the Eucharist that brought everything into full circle.

New Doors

Sitting idle would never take hold — because the moment one door closed on the Bible study, the Lord opened a new and more active calling.

Idleness weakens the soul. And this is precisely where the Enemy moves in. “You’re too old to be teaching classes. Who do you think you are? These kids want someone younger.”

Ignoring those false accusations took prayer.

But once the teaching began — preparing students for their First Holy Communion, guiding others through Confirmation — the mighty grace of God took control.

Social Media

Using social media to promote this blog has caused a drift from reality. Post, then scroll — and before long, an hour has slipped away. Time that belongs to prayer, quietly stolen.

I pray for those on Social Media who are given little time to live, the prayer is always the same: that they make peace with God, so they can continue the journey home.

Some of these individuals know nothing of God and are, sadly, walking toward the unknown. To them, this is the end. But to those whom God has chosen to witness to others — they know their final journey ends in the arms of Jesus.

God’s mercy rests on all the dying, and especially on those who have never called on Him. It may be the last minute — but God was there all along. We are the ones who step away. He never forsakes us.

The Lost Hiker

This past weekend, a hiker fell to his death attempting to photograph a waterfall. It is common news — some hikers grow disoriented and lose their way, while others fall from the side of a cliff and need rescuing.

These are experienced hikers. They purchase only the best protein bars to stay fueled, carry specialized water bottles unknown to most. Their backpacks speak of the journey — the distance to be covered, the height to be climbed, the summit where something like peace waits.

To those hikers who can fathom the creation of God — who are already serving Him, sharing the Good News with others — the trail has a name and a destination.

But the lost hiker who does not serve God, who carries no spiritual covering, is simply on a journey. One day, two roads will meet. And the lost hiker will have to choose.

They understand the beauty. But they have not yet grasped who created it. They have become their own religion, looking inward for answers that only God can give. Their hearts have not yet yielded to what God has in store for them.

But one day, they will look back — and see what was in front of them the entire time.

God is the answer. He is found in nature, yes. But He is calling for more than admiration. He is calling you to serve. He is calling you to belong to a community of believers — a place where you will be known, loved, and held accountable.

My Prayer

Thank You, Lord, for all the beauty that surrounds us. As we take this spiritual hike, may we never forget — You are with us every step of the way.

Amen.

The Trees

Nature plays an important role in our early morning walks. In Santa Barbara, the cool ocean breeze softly blows — a gentle reminder of His presence. The Pacific Ocean speaks in a powerful language. But at our home in Orange, the neighborhood is more stoic, the air a little thicker, and the sounds are mostly manmade.

When the city plants new trees, support poles are tied around them to help them grow strong. The city knows these immature trees must one day withstand the powerful Santa Ana winds, so until they are strong enough to stand on their own, the poles remain.

In many ways, these immature trees are like people who are still growing in spiritual knowledge. The Lord sends others to guide them — parents, grandparents, pastors, catechists, and friends — so that one day they can stand on their own.

The Role Of Parents

Parents represent the two poles holding the young tree. Together, they can help mold their child until that child is strong enough to withstand the world. Scripture is clear on this: “Train the young in the way they should go; even when old, they will not swerve from it” (Proverbs 22:6).

Rooted In God

Parents must regard their children as children of God and respect them as human persons. Showing themselves obedient to the will of the Father in heaven, they educate their children to fulfill God’s law. But no parent can do this on their own strength alone. The poles hold the tree — yet it is the soil, the sun, and the rain that give it life. So too, by incorporating prayer into everyday family experiences, parents teach their children by example — encouraging them to call upon God as their Father who loves and protects them, to look to Jesus their Savior who leads them to the Father, and to acknowledge the Holy Spirit who dwells within their hearts.

Standing Tall

The poles will not remain forever. One day the tree will stand tall on its own — rooted deep, branches wide, unshaken by the wind. That is the goal of every parent, and the quiet hope of every soul: to be so rooted in God that no storm can uproot what He has planted.

The Charlie Brown Trees

As the walk winds back toward home, three crepe myrtle trees come into view — planted years ago along the same stretch of sidewalk. Two of them stand tall and beautifully formed, their branches full and graceful. But between them stands a smaller, weaker tree — stunted, sparse, and struggling. What happened to the middle one? All three were planted at the same time, in the same soil, along the same street. For some unknown reason, the middle tree did not receive enough water.

When One Is Left Thirsty

The image is quietly heartbreaking — and instructive. In a family of three children, it is not uncommon for one child — perhaps more sensitive, perhaps more strong-willed — to slip through the cracks of proper formation. Sometimes a child is over-indulged, never given the loving discipline that builds character and wisdom. Sometimes a child is under-nurtured, left emotionally or spiritually dry. Either way, the damage is real.

Scripture does not soften this truth: “Whoever spares the rod hates the child, but whoever loves will apply discipline” (Proverbs 13:24). Discipline here is not harshness — it is the steady, faithful watering of a soul. A child who is never corrected, never challenged, never formed, never truly loved through difficulty — that child may grow tall in years but remain stunted in spirit, unable to make sound decisions or withstand the inevitable storms of life.

Every Tree Needs the Same Water

The lesson of the three crape myrtles is this: every child in a family deserves the same faithful attention, the same consistent love, the same firm and gentle formation. Favoritism — even when unintentional — leaves a mark. A parent’s calling is not simply to love all their children, but to love each one well, meeting them where they are, giving each what they need to grow.

The good news is that no tree is beyond recovery. With time, attention, and the grace of God, even the most stunted soul can begin to grow again. The Lord is patient with His garden — and He asks parents to be the same.

My Parable

In many ways, our lives are lived out in parables. We can’t fully understand God’s perfect nature, but He gives us beautiful hints of what heaven will be like. In life, I am a mature tree that provides shade when needed. I can withstand the storms that come my way and know that at every turn, a new season is at hand. Every season offers hope. When summer is about to scorch us, fall gently takes over. When winter takes its toll, spring is waiting for its glorious curtain call. We are all creatures of our Maker, waiting for the next great adventure of life.

Trusting  God

All of our stormy trials will come to an end. God allows us to suffer through them for a reason. Some of us must endure many difficult seasons because we have not yet grasped the life lesson being offered. Know that at all times, God has been — and always will be — in the midst of them. You are His child, and the love He has for you runs deeper than any root.

Jesus, I trust in You.

My Prayer

Lord, I thank You for all the beauty that surrounds us. May we look to nature to soothe our spirits. In the midst of our storms, send a cool breeze so that we may feel Your holy presence. Amen.

Born on the Feast

On August 6th, the Church celebrates the Feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord — the moment on Mount Tabor when Christ’s glory broke through His humanity and left the apostles breathless. What a joy, what a mystery, to have been born on that day.

And at 74, the transformation is still underway. Not finished. Not even close. Just continuing — the way grace always does, quietly and without fanfare, until one day you look in the mirror and realize something has shifted.

Weight Struggle

For as long as I can remember, I struggled with weight. I tried so many diets, joined groups — you name it, I did most of them. The problem was never a lack of trying. It was always the approach — and the wanting of immediate results. Learning that hard lesson took decades. But it finally paid off, and it all started with the lockdown.

Before we get into the story of the pandemic, I want to say plainly: I was convinced, early on, that COVID was going to touch all of us in some way. It did.

Lockdown

Mike and I were in our late sixties when the pandemic hit. By the government’s own math, we were already statistics waiting to happen. We weren’t allowed to visit our families — and that, more than anything, was the clincher for me.

I sat glued to the television looking for some scrap of solace in the middle of this epidemic. We were, in every real sense, living a kind of quiet hell inside our own home. The monotony was grinding. The sameness of each day was slowly breaking my spirit.

As a reminder — and it was a true reminder — I had been attending daily Mass. And then our governor closed the churches.

Without the Eucharist, both my body and my soul were in danger of losing hope entirely.

Model Seniors

We were model seniors. We stayed away from our grandchildren, away from family, away from everything. The fear that Dr. Fauci placed in our hearts was real — and all we wanted was to comply.

Seniors were given grave warnings about the vaccine. Mike didn’t hesitate. I, on the other hand, refused. My reason was not defiance. It was lived experience: I had already developed an autoimmune disorder from a flu shot, and I was not willing to repeat that.

The Flu Shot

In April of 2019, I was scheduled to travel to the Holy Land on a missionary trip. Mike wanted to make sure I was prepared, so — without giving it a second thought — the day before the trip I stopped into our local CVS and got a flu shot. I thought nothing more of it.

Symptoms

A few days into the trip, I felt a strange discomfort in my mouth. A perfectly ordinary tomato was causing a burning sensation I couldn’t explain. On closer inspection, my mouth was inflamed — covered in redness and a white substance. Being in a foreign country with a packed schedule, there was no practical way to see a doctor. The symptoms were uncomfortable, but there was little to be done.

Lichen Planus

The moment I returned home, a doctor’s visit delivered the news: it was lichen planus — an autoimmune inflammatory disease that can be triggered by infections, certain drugs, and vaccines. It did not stay confined to my mouth. For two years, lesions spread across my body. Two years of my life marked by that diagnosis, traced back to a routine stop at a pharmacy the day before a trip to the Holy Land.

For that reason, another flu shot has never been an option. And the COVID vaccine was out of the question. Mike would sometimes beg me to comply. But I knew what had happened once, and I was not willing to gamble again.

Weight Loss

Back to where this all began.

Three Ballerinas

There have been many foolish weight-loss choices in my life, but the one about the tea is unforgettable.

About ten years ago, I boarded a Southwest Airlines flight headed to New Orleans to visit my sister Jo. Mike wasn’t traveling with me that trip, so I settled into the window seat. A southern gentleman took the aisle. When the announcement came that the flight was full, a beautiful Filipino woman slipped into the middle seat beside me.

She was roughly my age — yet she looked absolutely fabulous. Was it genetics? A disciplined lifestyle? Or was she onto something I wasn’t? My curiosity was already building.

The southern gentleman introduced himself to us both, but my attention was fixed on this woman. He offered to order us cocktails. Normally, I’d have passed without a second thought — but I wanted an opening. A shared drink felt like the right setting to ask a stranger for her secret. We raised our glasses and toasted to a safe flight.

Then I went for it.

“How do you stay so slim?” I blurted out.

She let out the most adorable little giggle. “I drink tea — regularly,” she said.

“Tea? Tea?” I repeated.

“Yes.”

Well. Pandora’s box was wide open now. I dove into my enormous handbag, fished out a pen, and prepared to write down the name of this miracle tea.

“What’s it called?”

“Oh, you can only find it at an Asian market,” she said — which was not the answer I was looking for.

Just give me the NAME already, I thought, barely containing myself.

“It’s called Three Ballerinas,” she finally answered.

I exhaled slowly. I could not wait to land.

As the plane touched down, I made the Sign of the Cross and thanked God for traveling mercies — and, quietly, for Filipino seatmates. I said my goodbyes to my new companions and nearly sprinted to find my sister. I was on a mission.

Jo wrapped me in her signature bear hug, and before we even reached the car, I was already talking a mile a minute about Three Ballerinas tea. My sweet sister didn’t miss a beat. “I know exactly where an Asian market is,” she said. “Let’s go right now.”

Could this trip have started any better?

Sure enough, right there among shelves of strangely named teas sat the boxes — stacked neatly, almost waiting for me.

“How many are you buying?” Jo asked.

“Four boxes,” I said. “Just in case I can’t find it at home.” (Online shopping wasn’t yet a thing.)

We were practically giddy. The moment we arrived at Jo’s house, we brewed our first pot. My nephew Nick, who was staying with her at the time, wanted in on the experiment too.

The trip was a short three-day weekend, and Jo had something planned for every day — but all I could think about was losing weight, and fast. We had the tea with dinner. We had it again with breakfast.

The Tea From Hell

Thank God Jo’s home was equipped with three bathrooms.

We had to stay put for the entire day. The tea was wreaking absolute havoc on our bowels — all three of us doubled over with stomach cramps, afraid to stray more than ten feet from a bathroom. And yet, in a moment of either bravery or sheer stubbornness, we had the tea again with our takeout lunch.

The side effects were swift and merciless. There would be no sightseeing. No adventures. No leaving the house. Just the three of us, humbled and cramping, completely at the mercy of Three Ballerinas.

The Filipino woman was an experienced tea drinker. She had earned that slim figure one measured cup at a time. We, on the other hand, had treated her quiet daily habit like a fire hose — blasting our bodies in pursuit of instant results. The tea wasn’t the problem. We were.

From that day forward, hot tea has been off the table entirely. The very thought of it is enough.

The Weight Lost

Since COVID, thirty pounds have come off — not through miracle teas, crash diets, or anything ordered in a moment of desperation at 30,000 feet. Through consistency. Through showing up, day after day: an extra half hour of walking, Pilates several times a week — which somehow became the turning point.

At a recent doctor’s visit, the news came that another ten pounds would be beneficial. If it happens organically, fine. But the routine stays the same — no shortcuts, no pressure, no forcing what the body needs to do in its own time.

There is also a doctor in the picture who seems to believe that every problem has a pharmaceutical solution. That particular prescription will not be filled.

My Prayer

Dear Heavenly Father,

Bless all of us Baby Boomers with good health — so that we may continue to pray, to serve, and to love those around us.

Amen.