green dress and a hike.

It was a good day—
one of those rare ones where you can feel God’s hand holding the hours,
stretching time just a little longer, just for you.
And so I used it all... to explore.

Breakfast.
Holy Thursday. Pondering.
Mentoring. Stillness reservoirs.
Catching up with Mami and Abuela.
Coffee.
A spontaneous hike—in a dress and sandals, no less.

Sweet girlhood moments.
“You look so pretty, do you want a picture?”
Sweet, sweet girlhood.

The Holy Spirit reading my mind.
“I really wish I had someone to take a picture of me.”
And then He did what He does.

Flowers.
Cacti.
Orchids.
Oh my.

Climate change. Sustainability. Trees are the answer.

Suggestions from Jamal, my brother in Christ.
New trainees. Cute drinks.
Outdoor malls. Bathroom breaks.
Talks about change. Mental health.
Sweet, sweet fellowship.

How does one fit all of that into a single day?
Only God knows.

Later in the day, I met up with some disciples here in Phoenix, and we found ourselves in a conversation about change.

Someone asked,
“When we think about change, what are some things we encounter?”

My response?
A necessary face-to-face with resilience.

Resilience to confront the urge to be who you’ve always been.
Resilience to unlearn the stories you’ve told yourself.
Resilience to reroute the thoughts that used to come without question.
To rewire the mind inside your brain and rework the relationships outside of it—
both demand a kind of resilience that change does not apologize for.

Change asks something of you.
It stretches you.
And yet—it sanctifies you.

“When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world.”

— John Muir

Where is home for you?

Day 01 - Arizona 2025 - 7:41pm

I can’t believe I’m really here. Arizona. A place that’s been on my heart for over five years. One spontaneous urge—click—and I booked the package that brought me all the way out here to the desert. I’m here now, and I know God has me here for a reason.

For so long, I’ve fallen into the trap of daydreaming. Wanting to do, see, experience—but only letting the thought stretch so far. If you had asked me three months ago if I’d be in Arizona right now, I probably would’ve laughed and said, “One day.” But here I am.

Lately, God has been putting it on my heart to count the cost of social media. It’s become the world’s newest drug—and truthfully, it doesn’t do too well with me. I’ve been thinking about deleting it all and just using my blog to express myself, to document life again. I am a writer, after all. Writing helps me pause time. It lets me be present. And honestly, I feel like it’s been a while since I truly did that.

At my core, I’m someone who experiences life deeply—wanders, reflects, and writes. I can silently move through a whole day and just watch. And it's peaceful. It’s me.

So, how did I get here? Well—29. That sacred space between chapters. I’m taking inventory of who I am as I close out the beauty and chaos that was my 20s. And it’s important to me to build a foundation that’s deeply authentic for the next decade of life. A coming home. A return to the whispers in my spirit I’ve ignored for too long.

Arizona has always tugged at me. Maybe it’s the magnitude of it—the mountains, the canyons, the sheer difference from everything I’ve ever known. The way it makes you feel small in the best way. Out here, the busyness that normally feels like a mountain starts to look a little smaller. A little less loud. I remember how much I need the One who created this breathtaking world.

Today was Day 1. And as I usually do, I wandered. I took mental notes. I let the Holy Spirit lead me, shape me. I had no idea this trip would fall during Holy Week. And yet—of course it would. God is intentional like that. Knowing exactly what I need, even when I don’t.

That’s the beauty of walking with Him—co-creating your story with open hands. Letting Him lead while you follow, watch, wonder, and write.

Earlier, as I was having quiet time by the pool, I heard a gentle “Achoo!”
“Bless you,” I said instinctively.

Then, as I turned to take in the sunset one more time and gather my things, I heard it:
“Where is home for you?”

I said, “New York.” But honestly? When I’m in this space, home doesn’t feel like a place. It feels like the wings of the Holy Spirit.

When I’m like this, I finally understand what Jesus meant when He said:

“The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.”
— John 3:8 (NIV)

Until next time.

-a