Saturday, May 23, 2026

France Pilgrimage Update

“The good God made us pass through the crucible of suffering together. Our hearts were united more closely because they had suffered together.” St. Therese of Lisieux

Checking in to share some photos from our France Pilgrimage so far.  The country is gorgeous, the Churches magnificent, the company exactly how God ordained it to be.  We visited Notre Dame in Paris, reunited with a dear friend, went to Rue du Bac, then on to Rouen where St. Joan of Arc lived, we stayed in the town of Lisieux for two days, visited the childhood home of St. Therese, the Basilica of St Therese where her parents are buried, attended Mass twice at Carmel, we visited Normandy Beach, have driven through breathtaking towns, villages, and large cities.  I have eaten more croissants  than ever in my life.  I have run for nearly 40 hours on no sleep and slept in too.  We are currently staying in a castle in Condom and will reach our final destination - Lourdes - tomorrow.  This trip has been truly transforming in so many ways.  We can feel your prayers and I hope you can feel ours.  I am lighting candles at every holy place for you all and your intentions.  More later - I just wanted to say thank you all again for getting us here!



















Next stop - Lourdes. 


Friday, May 15, 2026

Only Today

 Over the last week or so, Cecilia has had several scans. And for today — today the cancer is stable. Not racing ahead. Not sounding alarms. Just… still. Steady. And that feels like grace enough to exhale for a moment.

It means we are able to go to France. To Lourdes. And that is no small gift.

These days feel a little like standing on the beach in a storm — one wave of gratitude comes in, another of grief, another of fear, another of peace you can’t quite explain. I keep coming back to words a friend’s husband once said while he was fighting cancer: only today.

Only today.

Because really, this moment is all any of us have ever been promised. Not next month. Not next year. Just this breath, this sunrise, this ordinary holy moment right in front of us.

Living that way does not come naturally to me. I like plans. I like certainty. I like knowing what comes next. But cancer does not live by calendars or rules or carefully outlined expectations. And so I am learning — slowly, imperfectly — to receive only the grace needed for today.

The doctor we met with yesterday was pleased with the stability, and because of that Cecilia will have opportunities this summer to travel, to laugh with friends and family, to gather memories like small wildflowers along the road. And I am deeply thankful for that.

We leave for France in four days.

A pilgrimage that I believe will bring healing in ways seen and unseen for the eight of us going. Healing of body maybe, yes — but also healing of hearts worn thin, of souls tired from carrying heavy things for a long time.

Thank you feels too small for the prayers and financial support that have carried us here. Truly. You have helped make this pilgrimage possible. As we move from Paris to Rouen to Lisieux to Lourdes, stopping in churches and sacred places along the way, I will carry all of you with me in prayer.

God knows the quiet ache beneath each of your smiling faces. He knows the deep desires of your heart, even the ones you cannot yet put into words. And I trust He will meet you there.

Please pray for us as we travel — and for the little ones staying home.

Going forward we will meet with the doctors once a month and have scans again in August.  Thank you all for your continued support as we are now years into this process.  Your prayers sustain us.





(Photo Credit by Crafting with Light)