Salty and Sanctified

08/18/2026

A Catholic response to euthanasia and our culture’s fear of dependence.

08/16/2026

06/19/2026

A couple of days ago I joked that the hits just keep on coming.

Today I’m sitting here with a fractured foot, missing work, losing income, moving at the speed of a sloth, and wondering what on earth God is trying to accomplish.

Because let’s be honest—I had plans.

Instead, I’ve been forced to slow down, pray more, accept help, and confront the uncomfortable truth that I am not, in fact, indispensable. 🤦‍♀️🙄

Maybe that’s the lesson.

Maybe holiness isn’t always found in doing more. Maybe sometimes it’s found in staying put when you’d rather push through, trusting God enough to believe the world won’t fall apart if you rest.

I still don’t like it.

I’d much rather be up cleaning the kitchen, running errands, working my shift, or convincing myself that exhaustion is a personality trait.

But grace has a way of meeting us in the places we’d never choose for ourselves.

So for now, I’m keeping my foot up, praying the Rosary, watching providence unfold one inconvenient day at a time, and trusting that God wastes nothing—not even a broken toe.

If nothing else, He’s teaching me that surrender is a lot harder than productivity.

06/17/2026

The hits just keep on coming. 🤦‍♀️

First, family needs ramped up and I got quieter on here. Now, less than two weeks before my daughter’s Sweet 16, I’m sitting at home with a broken toe and orders to stay off it.

Not exactly what I had planned.

But here’s the strange thing: while I’m stuck on the couch, I’ve been able to join the 4 p.m. livestreams from Medjugorje for the anniversary celebrations. Normally I’d be answering phones and taking orders at work.

Would I have chosen a broken toe? Absolutely not.

Would I have chosen this unexpected time to pray? Probably not either.

God has a way of interrupting our plans to remind us that He’s still writing the story.

So yes, I’m frustrated. Yes, I’m worried about everything that still needs to get done before the party. And yes, I’m looking at my swollen purple toe thinking, “Seriously, Lord?”

But I’m also grateful for the unexpected grace hidden in the interruption.

Sometimes providence doesn’t arrive wrapped in comfort. Sometimes it comes wrapped in electrical tape, ibuprofen, and a forced pause.

Prayers appreciated—for healing, for the Sweet 16 preparations, and most of all that I don’t waste whatever God is trying to do in this little season of stillness.

06/11/2026

I’ve been unusually quiet lately.

Not because I have nothing to say, but because life has required more prayer than words.

There is a particular kind of exhaustion that comes from watching someone you love suffer while being completely unable to take the pain away. You pray, you cry, you beg God for mercy, and then you pray some more.

Last night, in the middle of that helplessness, I was overwhelmed with the sense that I was wrapped around the feet of Our Lady like a frightened child, and that she was gently stroking my hair as if to say, “Come now. Get up. Keep going.”

Maybe that’s what grace looks like.

Not having all the answers.

Not having the strength.

Just having a Mother who refuses to leave.

04/05/2026

EASTER SUNDAY.

We are not people who pretend darkness doesn’t exist.

We’ve seen it.

We’ve lived it.

Some of us have been buried under it.

And still—

THE TOMB IS EMPTY.

We are an Easter people.

That doesn’t mean life is easy.

It means we know something the world doesn’t.

DARKNESS DOESN’T WIN.

Not in the end…

and not even in the middle of it.

Because even in the darkness—

GOD IS WORKING.

Not wasting it.

Not ignoring it.

Working it.

“All things work together for good for those who love Him.”

Not some things.

Not the easy things.

ALL THINGS.

Even the things that broke you.

Even the things you don’t understand yet.

Even the things you wish never happened.

THAT’S EASTER.

Not flowers.

Not brunch.

VICTORY.

Sin didn’t win.

Death didn’t win.

Despair doesn’t get the final word.

CHRIST DOES.

So if you’re in a season that still feels like Good Friday…

HOLD ON.

Sunday came.

And it always comes.

HE IS RISEN.

And because of that—

THERE IS LIGHT AFTER THE DARKNESS…

AND EVEN WITHIN IT.

04/04/2026

I didn’t pray the Rosary yesterday.

Not because I didn’t want to.

Because I couldn’t.

All I got out was one slow, ugly, crying Hail Mary.

And honestly? That was all I had.

Because sometimes loving someone means you’re sitting there watching them suffer…

and you can’t fix it…

and it’s ripping you apart too.

And I hate that.

I hate that I can’t take it from them.

I hate that I can’t make it better.

I hate that all I can do is stand there and feel it.
But then I remembered…

It’s Good Friday.

This is the day Love didn’t fix the suffering.

He entered into it.

So yeah… maybe the point isn’t to escape it.

Maybe the point is to stay.

To feel it.
To not run.
To not numb out.
To not pretend everything’s fine.

Just… stay.

At the Cross.

With Him.

With the people you love.

Even when it hurts like hell.

Especially then.

✝️

04/03/2026

🕯️ 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲… (𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝)

We need to talk.

Because what I witnessed last night wasn’t just “people being people.”

😡 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞.

This is the night Our Lord gave us the Eucharist.
The night He gave us the priesthood.
The night He was betrayed.
And yet…
People were talking like they were in a cafeteria.

𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐬. 𝐃𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐬.

Like nothing sacred was happening.
I literally had to turn around and say:
👉 “please talk later.”

At the altar—during the foot washing—
there was joking… faces being made…
I don’t care what the intention was.

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞‼️

And then came the procession.

Our Lord—𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭—
carried to the altar of repose.

This should have been 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐧.

This should have been 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭.

It wasn’t.

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞.

And almost no one stayed.

Let that sink in.

The night He asked:

“𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞?”

…and most people couldn’t.

And the most heartbreaking part?

𝐍𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

No one calling people back.

No shepherd saying, “this is sacred—act like it.”

So we stayed.
My little family.
We stayed the hour.
Not because we’re special.

👉 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐇𝐞 𝐢𝐬.

This isn’t about being rigid.
It’s not about being “holier than thou.”
It’s about this:

👉 𝐃𝐨 𝐰𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐇𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞… 𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭?

Because if we do—
Then:

🔥 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥.
🔥 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥.
🔥 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥.

Holy Thursday is not a social hour!

It’s not background noise.

It’s not casual.

👉 𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧.

And we either show up like we know that…
👉 𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭.

04/02/2026

I’m a day late posting — but this still matters.

Spy Wednesday.👀

Judas didn’t leave Jesus first.

He stayed… while planning to betray Him.

That’s what should bother us.

Because most of us aren’t out here openly rejecting God.

We’re doing something quieter.

We say we follow Him…

but we hold onto the one thing we won’t give up.

We look like we’re walking with Him…

but we’re not all the way in.

I’m not above that.

I’ve justified things I shouldn’t have.

I’ve called things “fine” that weren’t fine.

So this isn’t me pointing at anyone.

It’s just a real question:

What are you holding onto
that you already know needs to go?

Jesus knew what Judas was doing.

And He still sat at the table with him.

That’s mercy.🙌

But it’s not permission to stay the same.

Let it go.

03/31/2026

Holy Tuesday.

Let’s not romanticize this.

This isn’t the soft, peaceful part of Holy Week.
This is the day Jesus looks straight at the “religious” people…
and calls them out.

Not the pagans.

Not the outsiders.

The ones who knew the language.
The ones who looked the part.
The ones who thought they were good.
“You clean the outside… but inside you’re full of filth.”

Yeah. He said that.

And if that makes you uncomfortable?

Good.

Because I’m gonna say something most people won’t—

You can know all the right prayers…

show up every Sunday…

say all the right things…

…and still be completely disconnected from God.

I know.

Because I’ve lived fake versions of “truth” before.

I’ve played around in darkness and called it something else.

I’ve justified things I had no business justifying.

So no—this isn’t me pointing fingers.

This is me saying:

God doesn’t play along with our illusions.

We love a Jesus who comforts.

But Holy Tuesday Jesus?

He exposes.
He strips the mask.
He calls out the performance.
He goes straight for the heart.

So here’s the question:

Are you actually living this…
or just wearing it?

Because there’s a difference.

And deep down?

You already know which one it is.

This isn’t about shame.

It’s about truth.

The kind that cuts…
so it can heal.

Let Him deal with YOU today.

Not your timeline.

Not the people you disagree with.

You.

Because He didn’t pull you out of sin
so you could dress it up prettier.

He pulled you out
so you could be free.

Holy Tuesday isn’t cute.

It’s cleansing.

And if it hits a nerve?

That’s not a problem.

That’s an invitation.