I See You, Friend.

I, too, have known a messy and beautiful life.

Henri Nouwen, a contemplative priest, spiritual director, and author, spoke beautifully of the wounded healer paradox. He believed that our own vulnerabilities and struggles can become the very bridge that connects us to others. This truth is what first drew me to the work of spiritual direction: those who have been wounded are often the ones most able to understand and accompany others who suffer or who are searching for something more. Our pain and questions, when tended to with grace, can open in us a deep well of empathy and compassion.

I was raised in the Christian tradition. But I’ve always been one to question, and faith became a complex topic in my young adulthood. In my twenties, I stepped away from any kind of spiritual practice. Over time, I’ve come to see that the questions themselves are sacred, necessary for growth. After the birth of my children in my late twenties and early thirties, I began to feel a gentle nudge to look again, to open myself to something greater than my own understanding. In the midst of a deep personal crisis, I experienced a profound spiritual awakening that reconnected me to the work of the Divine. I eventually attended seminary, believing I was being called into ministry. As it turned out, something different—something uniquely mine—was being formed instead.

Over the past two decades, I’ve continued to grow and open myself to the gifts of contemplative spirituality. It’s been a gradual unfolding: a journey of questioning God, discerning purpose, and learning to trust the process of healing. Through years of self-reflection, I’ve faced my own wounds and found deep restoration. I know what it’s like to carry secret pain or feelings that don’t seem ‘spiritual’ at all and to long for a safe, confidential space to share joys, griefs, and questions. I’ve walked through seasons of depression and the Dark Night of the Soul. I know the pain that mental health challenges and addiction can bring to families. I’ve experienced the unique joys and struggles of raising a child with special needs, and I understand the exhaustion that comes from caregiving when your own internal source feels dry. I know what it is like to question your faith and move through a deconstruction and reconstruction process.

My own journey has shaped me into someone who values authenticity, vulnerability, and deep listening. The experiences I’ve lived through have opened me to listen with care, reflect deeply, and walk alongside others on this slow and steady path of growth and discovery. I believe that when we show up as our whole, imperfect selves, we create space for others to do the same. In my work as a spiritual director, I offer a compassionate, nonjudgmental presence for all who are seeking—wherever you are on your path and however you understand the Divine. My hope is to create a sacred space where everyone is welcome and seen, where our questions are honored, and where the Spirit’s quiet work in each of us can be gently noticed and nurtured.