Category: Behold Vancouver

This past summer, my family found ourselves in that familiar late-May whirlwind. My husband and I are both educators, and that whirlwind included final grades, forgotten lunchboxes, back-to-back recitals, parish festivals, Scout meetings, and overlapping calendar invites. And while the liturgical calendar forms our spiritual lives, I admit it’s the school calendar that sets the tempo of our days. My entire family feels scattered — emotionally, spiritually, even physically. Some weeks, it seems like the four of us barely see each other in the same room.

We desperately needed something to pull us back together.

One Sunday evening, we started small. We sat on the couch, lit a candle, and opened some little journals I’d picked up. My husband and I offered a few simple prompts, and we each wrote our answers: What were your roses this week? What were your thorns? Where did you see God? How do you wish you had acted better? What would you like to change in the week ahead?

Then we ended with a prayer. Sometimes an Our Father, a Hail Mary, or a Glory Be. Sometimes one of our kids recites a Bible verse they’ve been memorizing. We offer up our hopes and ask: How might we change, appreciate more, and do better next week? We called this practice our “End-of-School Examen.” It wasn’t planned as a long-term ritual — just a much-needed pause amid the end-of-year storm. But it gave us space to reflect, reconnect, and remember what matters. And it helped us start noticing where God had been all along. He had always been there with us in the whispers before school music recitals, in those rare teamwork moments of cleaning up spilled juice at breakfast together, and, most importantly, in the here and now tired joy of our family finally all in the same room at the same time, taking the time to be together and be with God, too.

As summer settled in, the Examen naturally slipped away. Our evenings slowed. We had more time to connect in other ways — swimming in the neighborhood pool, playing Crazy Eights at the kitchen table, simply being together. But as the new school year crept closer, that old familiar tension returned: How would we carry the peace of summer into the storm of the school year?

There was so much to do: back-to-school bashes. Music lessons. Meet-the-teacher nights. Religious education signups. Everything was revving back up again. And I found myself wondering: Would the rhythms of the academic calendar drown out the rhythms of the Spirit? So, in these past few weeks, we brought back our Examen — with a new purpose.

When I’m tired and overwhelmed, what I most crave is being comforted by someone who is both gentle and steady. The kind of person who makes you feel calm just by looking at you. This is what it’s like to read Rediscovering Rest, the new 30-day devotional, written by Hannah Chartier. 

Rediscovering Rest is split into 30 daily readings, and each reading concludes with questions for practical application. It’s perfect if you’re feeling overwhelmed or short for time, because each reflection is both brief and potent. Each day, Hannah reflects on Scripture, Church documents, stories from her personal testimony, and the writings of saints like Pope Saint John Paul II or modern geniuses like Cardinal Sarah. The devotional is written in a heartwarming manner, but it avoids platitudes. If you’re feeling shaky, Hannah’s writing offers the steadiness of Gospel Truth. 

Throughout Rediscovering Rest, Hannah draws from her own experiences of exhaustion and toddler-induced sleep deprivation. Hannah’s sometimes confessional reflections on what it is like to feel desperate for rest amid relentless circumstances (parenting toddlers!) give this devotional its unique perspective. I appreciated her meditations on how being vulnerable before God and humbly admitting our weaknesses is a pathway to being filled with “abundant life.” It gave me hope to read her personal accounts of deep tiredness being met by God’s divine intervention and healing providence. 

Here’s one of my favorite excerpts (from Day 13), where Hannah describes how God provided for her, after a morning of despairing exhaustion:

“I walked out to the back of the orchard… asking myself why we had even come. Most of the fruit on the trees had gone bad, or the trees were bare. But then, right at the back of the orchard, were rows upon rows of untouched trees, drooping with beautiful, ripe cherries. I suddenly felt gleeful, my exhaustion forgotten… Sitting there, surrounded by an abundance of cherries, I was struck by the overwhelming goodness of God. He was showing me, in real time, what abundant life looked like.” 

Rediscovering Rest also reminds the reader that we do not live in a merely natural world. Reality is supernatural. Our God is the King of the Universe, and even when it seems like our exhaustion is naturally insurmountable, God provides supernatural antidotes. He desires that you receive deep and consoling rest, no matter where you are. This is the resounding message of Rediscovering Rest. Tribulations and tiredness are an inescapable part of life, and this devotional will give you the vision you need to remain renewed even when your natural circumstances are troubling. 

I pray that this devotional leads you to a greater sense of the “peace that surpasses all understanding,” just as it did for me.

Many of us struggle to rest. Busy with work and parenting, stressful family situations and endless social opportunities lead us to feel like rest is the last thing on our to-do list. Yet, somewhere deep inside, we know this lifestyle isn’t sustainable. There’s a yearning in our hearts for true, deep rest – something that won’t just happen after one night sleep or by putting our phone away for an evening. 

It requires a shift in our priorities. It requires us to stop pushing rest to the side as yet another thing we will “do” when we have time. It is time to build our lives on rest, instead of on productivity and busyness. 

This shift is illustrated in the story of Mary and Martha. Jesus visits the sisters and Martha rushes around getting things done, while Mary sits at the feet of Jesus, allowing her body, mind and soul to be refreshed in His presence. Jesus calls Martha out, says these words “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one.” 

Only one thing is needed: to sit at the feet of Jesus. This is the center, the foundation of living a life of rest. 

But what does that mean? 

Many saints have written about what it means to live a life of active contemplation. Contemplation, simply defined, is peaceful awareness of God’s presence within our hearts. Active contemplation means that we are cultivating this practice, not just in our morning prayer time, but throughout our activities of the day. In the words of St. Francis De Sales: “A thousand times in the day offer your soul to Him; fix your inward eyes upon His sweetness…” (Introduction to the Devout Life, Part II, Ch. 13) 

If we understand true deep rest as the refreshment of body, mind and soul in God’s presence, then active contemplation is how we build a life that is centered on rest. 

It’s not a quick fix. Most of us keep our minds and hearts occupied with tasks, entertainment, worries and a thousand other things. But the rest we crave will only come if we slowly build our mental and spiritual capacity for being aware of God’s presence. This continual return to Jesus is the remedy for our fractured, tired lives: “No matter what state we are in, if we let ourselves go [to Jesus], we shall rest in the hollow of his neck… that’s where he adds, ‘I will be your rest.’” – Catherine Doherty, “Thoughts on the Little Mandate”, 1969 unpublished 

Growing in the awareness that God is with us in our immediate circumstances will help us to see what things in our lives keep us stuck in physical, mental and spiritual exhaustion.

I always imagine that summertime will be relaxing, with days spent luxuriating on my front porch in the sun, drinking a few beers around a campfire with my friends, and packing up the car for camping trips with my kids that they’ll remember for the rest of their lives. Reality is often much less idyllic. Between church events, weekends away, ceaseless BBQ invitations, and the glum reality that I still have to go to work even when the weather is nice, summer can feel more like a jumble of commitments, an endless race from place to place.

In the middle of the chaos, usually the first things to go are those disciplines that, in more stable times, keep me anchored to Christ and living from a place of deep relationship with Him. The slow mornings I spend by candlelight with my Bible in the dark of winter are replaced by mad dashes to get work done early enough to enjoy the afternoon sun. Carefully planned and prepared Sabbath days replaced by road trips home from a camping weekend.

Many of these things are good – events and commitments I look forward to all year, especially when my driveway is buried under a mountain of snow. Still, I often wish that my relationship with God wasn’t so easily derailed, not by sin but by lack of routine.

What I need in this season is not a more dogged commitment to my Google Calendar but simple, portable rhythms, rituals, and routines that slowly, quietly, but meaningfully redirect my gaze to meet the loving gaze of Jesus Christ. Jesus was no stranger to busyness and interruption. While my relationship with the Father often rests on a sense of stability and structure, Jesus sought the Father in any quiet, deserted place He could find. It’s in this season that we most need “portable disciplines” like the ones Jesus had even in the chaos of the crowds and a life on the road.

Through the years, there are a few things that have stuck that, while not always feeling as rich as my disciplines in steadier seasons, keep me rooted in God’s ever present love.

Short Morning Prayer

I love a long morning devotional time, with a cup of coffee and extended silence. On a weekend away, or even just at the start of a busy day, I’ve learned to be okay with short prayers. God is generous and understanding and even if we can’t give Him an hour of dedicated time, He still wants to spend some time with us. On these busy summer days, sometimes my prayer time just looks like an Our Father prayed slowly and with intention.

What would you do if the end of the world was coming? Would fear, uncertainty, or discouragement make you give up? St. Paul says we don’t need to give in to despair: we have a true source of hope. 

In this episode, Fr. Columba Jordan explores St. Paul’s Letters to the Thessalonians and the struggle of an early Christian community facing confusion, despair, and anxiety. In response, St. Paul gives practical solutions which can still work for us today.

What makes a parish or community truly alive? It’s not impressive programs, gifted leaders, large crowds, or even extraordinary spiritual experiences. According to St. Paul, the essential ingredient is love. 

In the second episode of St. Paul’s Letters with Fr. Columba Jordan, Fr. Columba explores how St. Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians reveals a practical vision for transforming our parishes and communities: rather than waiting for other people to create a more loving Church, the work begins within each of us.

Is it really possible to experience joy even when your circumstances are painful, uncertain, or overwhelming? 

In the third episode of St. Paul’s Letters with Fr. Columba Jordan, Fr. Columba Jordan, CFR, explores St. Paul’s Letter to the Philippians and the surprising freedom that allowed Paul to rejoice while imprisoned and awaiting trial.

God doesn’t see you as a stranger, a servant, or merely a guest. He sees you as family. He rescued you, cares for you, and wants you to know that you truly belong. 

In the first episode of St. Paul’s Letters with Fr. Columba Jordan, Fr. Columba explores this incredible truth, unpacking St. Paul’s writing on our relationship with God, how God’s family has been restored, and how we can accept that gift and live in freedom.

I walked the streets of Jerusalem as a skeptic, unsure what I believed about the city, Jesus, or the biblical stories. I had stopped going to church years before the trip, but when my policy job offered me the chance to accompany state policymakers to Israel to learn about the region’s politics, I felt the stirrings of my childhood and a long-held fascination with the Holy Land. 

My spirituality has guided me since I was a little girl. Raised in a devout Catholic household, our family always sat in front at Mass, even when we arrived late — which was most Sundays. As much as I wanted to slide into a back pew, my parents would march my four siblings and me up to the front. We’d kneel until Mass started, then kneel again after the final song as everyone else filed out of church. 

LISTEN: Holy Land Pilgrimage: On the Path Where Jesus Walked

I attended Catholic schools and have journals of prayers and conversations with God, dating back to when I was about 11. I felt the sorrow of Holy Week and the anticipation of Advent, recognizing the liturgical seasons reflected in my life. I remember tearing up, more than once, when “Here I am, Lord” was sung, sensing that my life journey was divinely guided, including its hardships and challenges. I dedicated my career to helping the disadvantaged, beginning with a job at Catholic Charities. 

As a young adult, I attended multiple Catholic churches, seeking that sense of home I had as a child. But as a single woman, I felt like an outsider, unable to relate to the young families around me or the older couples in the pews. After Mass, I would look around, hoping to make eye contact with some nice soul who would come over and say hello. But the families were busy corralling their children, and the older couples gathered in their little groups. I’d walk out alone, still scanning the crowd for any connection.  

I eventually stopped attending Mass. I didn’t stop believing; I just no longer had a community of people or a dedicated place to share that belief.  

I carried this history to Israel, along with questions about what was being asked of me at that moment. The trip took place not long after I had recovered from stage four cancer, and I was struggling to go back to normal life. My illness and recovery awakened something in me, a faith I couldn’t articulate, and I wasn’t sure what it meant for my career or life as a whole. But I resisted the temptation to turn the trip into a spiritual pilgrimage.

The words “parenting” and “relaxing” never fit together naturally for me as a father. And with all of the pressures weighing on me right now — debt, bills, and rising prices — they had drifted even further apart. They went from being quarrelsome siblings to two completely different people living on opposite sides of the world. This disconnect had always seemed natural to me, though, especially when I reflected on what Scripture had to say about laziness and sloth. 

But I had made an all-too-common mistake. I had been focused on just one aspect of what I read, while ignoring something equally as important: Giving glory to God through relaxing. 

RELATED: Dr. Saundra Dalton Smith on ‘Sacred Rest’ 

The example of St. Joseph

My idea of being a good father, and husband, entailed being a good provider. Any minute I took away from working, I felt like I was falling behind in these roles. This inability to relax got to the point where it would even interfere with me spending time with my family. I would be there physically, but mentally I was nowhere to be seen. My wife and daughter could see it, too — as quickly as the joy of seeing me there would wash over them, their smiles would turn serious. 

I would beat myself up about it, but to me it was just a natural sacrifice I had to make. I never imagined St. Joseph — a saint I always looked up to — relaxing. And if he, as a righteous man, didn’t relax, then certainly honoring God could never be associated with taking some down time. St. Paul’s succinct words, that “if anyone was unwilling to work, neither should that one eat” (2 Thessalonians 3:10), only solidified my distorted view. 

RELATED: Turning to St. Joseph as a Rookie Father

Relaxation versus laziness

But I was wrong. Because there’s relaxing, and then there’s being lazy. Growing up, I never took the time to understand the difference between the two. To me, even when I was relaxing, I felt like, at the core, I was still embracing laziness — a sin abhorrent to God (Proverbs 18:9). But there is a difference when it comes to honoring our heavenly father. 

The fourth commandment tells us to keep holy the Sabbath. I understood the work and relaxation part, but what did the key word “holy” actually mean? The dictionary defines it as “exalted or worthy of complete devotion,” and herein lies the answer: God gave us the gift of relaxation to rejuvenate us, so we can give complete devotion to him through praying, giving thanks, and appreciating what he has given us.