4:52 - 9/5/26 -69 degrees and going down. Yes, fall is here rather early, it would seem, but with it comes newness. New colors, new clean, dry air, new activities to bring people closer together. Yes, with each season comes a new chapter. And we get to write our own story. If we follow God's lead, it will be a good story; if we don't, it will be just our story. 5:00, My thoughts go to a client who asked me, why did God let this terrible thing happen to him? I said, because e

5:18am - 8/21/26 - 72 degree as I sit in my old rocker on my small redwood porch deep in the forest the northern Cardinal sings through the darkness. CIRRUS clouds are strewn in a peach array across the early morning sky, with the reflection of the sun that is about to rise. As quietly as, standing in my driveway, is a young buck magnificently showing off his new antlers as he waits for his usual handout. Along with him is Mr. Gray squirrel, who sits up straight with his litt

8/14/26 - 7:31 - 71 degrees. It is a delightful morning. I sit here in my rocker on my small redwood porch, surrounded by the forest, watching the Doe eat the seed I carefully laid on the driveway. The chipmunks, squirrels, and bluejays eat at my feet. They are a delight. Friends sent from God. How lucky am I. I am just a simple soul, content to watch the grass grow. Money can not buy this. 7: 45 The welcoming sound of the train whistle flows through the forest. I say my pray

8/2/26 - 73 degrees - 5:03. I am enveloped in darkness and sarranaded by the hum of crickets. The Northern Cardinal is again the first to cry out in the dark.I wonder who he is calling or if he is just letting the world know he is here. Now the Catbird begins his repertoire of songs. I sip my coffee, and as I sit in my rocker on my small redwood porch, I begin my prayers. Beginning with my gratitude for a God who is with me at all times, my rock and protector. I thank him fo

7/24/26 - 5:04 a.m. - 66 degrees. I can hear the thundering of heavy metal resonating through the forest. I sit alone in darkness with God and the soft tropical wind that seems to talk to me. I hear it rustling through the leaves of the tall oak trees. A gust of wind comes, and the tops of the trees sway with its music, but the fir tree in front of me stands quiet and unshaken. Like many of us who stand quiet and still through the raptures of life. It is only because of God's

4:48 a.m. - 7/13/26 - 71 degrees. I am once again sitting on my small redwood porch under a small overhang in my old rocking chair. I say my prayers and thank God for all that He has done for me, for the prayers that have been answered, and for the ones He chooses to wait on. I sip my coffee and know that he is all around me. Some of my clients often tell me they do this, but they don't feel anything. Well, the truth is, it is too soon to expect to feel anything. It is all in

5:07 - 7/6/26 -69 degrees. The gentle summer rains have just ended, feeding and nurturing all God's creatures. The Northern Cardinal and the white-breasted nuthatch are the first to echo God's music this morning. Now, the Grey Catbird, the song sparrow, and a new one, the European starling, have entered the mix. The sun will rise soon. It is already getting lighter. I know that many of you are walking through darkness right now. But maybe you can step back and listen to God's

4:31 a.m. - 7/2/26 - 73 degrees and balmy. It is a lovely summer morning as I sit on my small redwood porch in my old rocking chair. The Northern Cardinal is the only one to speak this early in the morning. He sings alone, announcing a new day. Not a leaf on a tree is moving. The Fir tree stands quiet. The stillness can be felt. I say my prayers and know that God is all around me. 4:50 A strong breeze has suddenly broken the stillness. The red-winged blackbird, the Song sparr

4:13 a. m. - 6/27/26 - 69 degrees. I sip my coffee. It is dark, the sun doesn't rise until 5:21 a. m. I sit in my old redwood rocker on my small redwood porch. I love the peace that comes with the early morning. I say my prayers, which is really talking with God. I thank him for all the answered prayers and for always being with me. It has been a blessing to see him work in my clients' lives. 5:00 a.m. train whistles through the forest as it brings its cargo to work. And we s

5:36 a.m. - 6/16/26 - 66 degrees. As I sit in my old rocker on my small redwood porch, the air feels heavy with moisture. I read a verse from the Bible. There is still much I do not understand. 5:54 train roars through the forest with its usual welcoming bellow. I talk with God and feel his glory all around me. I thank him for always being there for me and for sending his son to die for me so that one day I may be with him. 6:16 I put seed down in my driveway, and suddenly th

Each morning offers a fresh canvas, a quiet moment before the world stirs fully awake. I have found that beginning my day with spiritual nourishment sets a gentle tone that carries me through the hours ahead. It is not about rushing or checking off tasks but about pausing to connect deeply with what matters most. This practice has become a sacred ritual, a way to invite peace, clarity, and purpose into my life. Spiritual morning routines are more than habits; they are invitat

Every day offers a quiet invitation to pause, breathe, and look inward. I have found that this simple act of reflection, when practiced daily, becomes a gentle guide on the path of growth. It is not about rushing or fixing but about embracing the present moment with kindness and curiosity. Through daily journaling for reflections, I have discovered a sacred space where my thoughts, feelings, and spiritual longings can unfold naturally. This practice has helped me nurture a de

6/15/26 - 5:45 am - 68degrees I sit on my rocker on my small redwood porch, enjoying the quiet stillness after a storm and the fresh scent that goes with it. The squirrels and chipmunks are running all around my feet in the peaceful quiet of the early morning. The Doe lies peacefully in the grass just beyond. It is so nice to see all the animals so comfortable with each other, no matter their differences. Wouldn't it be nice if all of us could take a lesson from them? 6:00 am

5/29/26 - 4:46 - 56 degrees. As I sit on my old rocker on my small redwood porch, I take note of the uncanny stillness. I say my prayers and talk with God, thanking him for the life he has given me and praying for those I know are in need. As I do this, the tall cedar fir, with its limbs draped in emerald tinsel, whispers quietly in the early morning breeze, giving God a voice. The American Robin is one of the first to sound off on this very still morning, along with the gray

5:04 - 5/15/26 - 53 degrees. I sit in my rocker on my small redwood porch. The first light of day filters through gray, billowing clouds in a soft spray of orange. A bluejay flies in announcing the first call to breakfast. He is followed by a wood duck couple flying out of the tree, taking their chances. The male is a handsome fellow, proudly flaunting his emerald-green helmet, delicately outlined in white. A chipmunk runs across my feet on his way to steal a peanut as the b

Every day offers a new chance to grow, to understand ourselves a little better, and to deepen our connection with the world around us. I have found that one of the gentlest, most profound ways to nurture this growth is through a spiritual reflection journal. This simple practice invites me to pause, breathe, and listen to the quiet whispers of my heart. It is a sacred space where I can explore my thoughts, feelings, and experiences with honesty and kindness. Writing in a jour

4:30 a./m. - 57 degrees - 5/11/26 I sit on my small redwood porch in complete darkness, surrounded by a magnificent forest, enveloped in God's arms. 5:00 a.m. train welcomes in a new day with its low, mournful whistle wailing through the pines. Out of the darkness comes a frightful shriek, awakening my senses. One I have heard many times before, though. The forest is alive with many ghastly sounds. I say my prayers and talk with God, asking for his help for those in need. Jes

5:00 a.m. - 44 degrees - 5/2/26 I woke to a breathtaking orange moon about to set in the west, leaving an orange glow on the lake beneath. 5:02 train cries out through the darkness with a haunting moan. This morning, the forest is alive with all my friends serenading in a natural surround-sound. I sit on my small redwood porch now, still with the heater under my rocking chair I say my prayers, talk with God, and thank him for this morning's glory. I read an excerpt from the B

4?24/26 - 6:00 a.m. - 47 degrees I have returned to my small redwood porch in the front of my home due to early morning rains. The rains, mingling with the pines, bring a clean, fresh scent to the early morning. I say my prayers and talk with God as I sip my coffee. I have now put to memory the 23rd, 24th, and 25th psalms. I chose these because they speak to me the most, and it feels good to have put them to memory. They come in handy when I need them. Such as when darkness f

Starting each day with a moment of quiet reflection has become a gentle ritual for me. It’s a way to pause, breathe, and connect with what truly matters. When I take time to write down my thoughts, hopes, and gratitude, I feel a subtle shift inside—a softening of the mind and a warming of the heart. This simple act of daily reflection can boost your day in ways you might not expect. It invites calm, clarity, and a deeper sense of purpose. If you’ve ever wondered how to begin