For a long time, I said no to the idea of a blog. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I had much to say—or at least not in the kind of steady, predictable way blogs seem to require. And really, the internet already feels loud enough. (Did the world truly need one more person chiming in?)

But somewhere between the quiet of our house, the friendships that are mostly scattered across time zones and text threads, and the questions that come rushing in at midlife, I felt a nudge from God. Not to be profound or prolific, but to tell the honest truth about my story. To invite you to tell yours. To create a place where we could show up unfinished, a little confused, hopeful, sometimes hilarious without meaning to be—and very much human.

When I moved from Canda to Spain, I discovered how bewildering the middle years can be, especially during such an enormous transition. My kid needed me less. My body screamed in a foreign language (minus the translation app), my roles were all shifting at the same time. And I was left wondering who I was becoming now, in this stretch of life where the ground moves and the old maps don’t quite fit.

A few years ago, as the decision to leave Canada became more and more clear, the word Kairos found me. Kairos is when time opens up - the fullness of time—those moments when you realize all of life is sacred. Not just the spiritual bits you’d find on Instagram, or the elaborate church services on Sunday morning, but also the grocery lists, the emptying dishwasher, the long scroll of WhatsApp threads. Life is not divided into two categories: spiritual and secular, holy and ordinary, sacred and practical. All of it belongs. All is infused with God’s presence. All is sacred.

I even wrote a book about it—Kairos: When the Holy Meets the Daily. It’s my story told through the lens of the psalms, in poetry and prayer. Writing it—and trying to live it—wrecked me in the best way. It cracked me open to a fresh vision for this one ordinary, unrepeatable life I’ve been given.

Living the Kairos way means we stop chasing gold stars and instead pay attention to what’s actually here. The invitation of The Kairos Way is to live as if everything is holy groud. To practice paying attention not just to the big moments, but to the dailiness of our actual lives.

The good, the true, and the beautiful we long for don’t arrive when we’ve finally perfected ourselves. They rise from whatever is unfolding right now. And when we collaborate with reality—even the unglamorous bits—we discover we are makers.

And so living Kairos means receiving life as it is, and joining God in his work in the world. We become makers with God—collaborators in creating, repairing, and piecing this world back together.

So that’s why I write. Not to add to the internet’s noise, but to remind us that we are makers. No producers chasing checkboxes and gold stars, but participants in the sacred work of becoming. Here, I offer a pause. A breath. A reminder that your ordinary life is sacred too.

I am, forever and always, a student of this process. And if you’re here, I’d love for you to be one too. Let’s laugh, cry and stumble through the mystery of becoming together.

So let’s sit here a while—coffee in hand, pyjamas more than acceptable. (Bonus points if they don’t even match.)

Who knows? Maybe this is exactly how a movement begins - one mismatched pajamas at a time.

Join the Letters