SPIRITUALITY

Raised in a traditional Catholic household, I knew the rituals of faith but struggled with the contradictions I saw around me. Prayer could feel like both a comfort and a weapon. Over time, I realized that faith used to control others leads to fear, but faith used to transform ourselves leads to freedom. That’s when my understanding of God began to expand.

I stopped trying to fit God into doctrine and started looking for the divine in experience, in quiet moments, in laughter with friends, in the way compassion softens a hardened heart. I came to believe that love, not judgment, is the truest language of the sacred. That belief became the foundation of my work as a spiritual coach and director.

Then, on October 26, 2025, life reminded me again how fragile and holy it all is. My daughter, Ericka, passed away. There’s no way to soften that reality. The grief and the ache are constant. But even in this unbearable season, I can sense God’s presence that is steady. The practices I’ve spent years doing and teaching—stillness, prayer, surrender, are now the lifelines keeping me grounded.

I don’t see this loss as something to get over but as something to live through with awareness. Pain has a way of stripping away illusions and clarifying what really matters. It reminds me that spirituality isn’t a destination we reach when life is easy it’s the way we walk when it’s not.

Each morning, I sit in silence and breathe. Sometimes that’s all I can do. Yet even there, something sacred stirs. The same grace that carried me through addiction and loss years ago is carrying me now. And once again, I feel called to share what I’m learning: that transformation doesn’t mean the absence of pain, it means allowing love to do something holy with it.

Today, I walk alongside others who are searching for meaning in the middle of their own uncertainty. Whether through one-on-one coaching or spiritual direction, I help people notice where the divine might already be at work in their stories. Because I’ve learned that what breaks us open can also become the doorway to something far greater than we imagined.

If you find yourself longing for that kind of connection—tired of striving, yet hungry for peace you’re not alone. The sacred isn’t somewhere far away. It’s here, in every breath, every question, every tear. Sometimes, the journey itself is the answer.