December 2025 – Prayers Over The Kitchen Sink

Infinite: God’s Not Finished

Word of the Year:

It’s wild to think that a new year is upon us and 2026 is about to begin! The final days of the year are always a time of reflection and resolution and hope for the future. I try not to make too many goals to worry about but something I enjoy is choosing a word of the year. There are many ways to choose your word. You can use tools like word generators, ask a friend or mentor to choose for you or brainstorm to pick a word that resonates with your soul, experiences or hopes for the future.

However you choose your word it should always be done prayerfully. I make sure to ask for God’s guidance first when choosing a word through prayer and meditation, asking the Holy Spirit to select the word for me. It’s interesting how the word can feel mysterious at first but looking back can come to mean so much. That’s how it was for me in 2025.

What’s that supposed to be? The body of Christ?

“What’s that supposed to be? The body of Christ?”

He said it in a mocking tone through a half-smirk, half-scowl, as he held up a round water cracker. He had plucked it off the slap-dash charcuterie board I set out for our Christmas house guests—him and his family.

He was Christian, like me, but made sure to let me know how he felt about my Catholicism right there in my own home. He preached his version of the truth, pulling up conspiracy websites and videos in the cracked-screen phone he shoved in my face.

He ruthlessly spouted lies and misconceptions about my faith but refused any healthy debate or reasonable discussion. He was too caught up in his ego trip, raining down fire and brimstone in my parlor, telling me to repent and follow Jesus.

If only he could understand that Jesus is everything to me–to us.

“Mama, can you wash my foot?”

A Little Lent Reflection

Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings thou hast brought perfect praise.-Matthew 21:16

It was a typical busy morning with my kids. I had just finished slinging pancakes, slipping a whole one through my pre teen’s door before cutting the rest up into little bite-sized pieces and leaving a dollop of maple syrup in the smallest wedge of the divided plastic plates.

With the calvary distracted by breakfast, I finally had my chance. I grabbed my coffee and my copy of that month’s Magnificat and headed to the dining room. I settled at the table, out of the splash-zone of the eat-in kitchen table where my toddlers dipped their morsels and slurped down milk.

The readings contained the story of Mary Magdalene who showed her love for Jesus by using her hair to bathe his feet in her tears. Magdalene has always held a special place in my heart. Not only is she often misunderstood, but she believed in Jesus’ power to forgive and to heal.