Ecclesiastes 3:1 – “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.”
During the pandemic, I spent more time alone than I ever had before—and in that solitude, I discovered something unexpected: peace. For most of my life, I had been constantly surrounded by people. Work, social events, relationships—there was always someone in my space. Even when I was technically “alone,” I was never truly alone with myself. But during those long, quiet months, I realized something important: I actually enjoy my own company.
Growing up, my house was always full of people. Noise. Movement. Life. It felt natural to always have someone around. But I’ve also known what it’s like to be in a crowded room and feel more alone than if I were sitting in my own bedroom. I imagine many people feel that way sometimes.
The Joy of Doing Nothing.
One thing I uncovered about myself? If no one reaches out, if there are no plans—I'm perfectly content doing nothing. No pressure. No expectations. Just existing. Of course, after a while, I’d start to feel a little cabin fevered. So, if the weather was nice, I’d go for a walk. Or better yet, I’d head to a golf course—just me, the open sky, and the sound of a ball cutting through the air.
A friend recently reminded me of the nights we used to go dancing at The White Horse—a small, local gay bar in Berkeley, CA. It was everything you’d expect from a neighborhood queer bar in the ‘90s and early 2000s—sticky carpet from decades of spilled cocktails, a tiny but mighty dance floor, and a space that felt like home. We danced, we laughed, we let loose. We made fools of ourselves in the best way possible.
People say, "Youth is wasted on the young."
I don’t know if that’s true. Because when I look back, I don’t feel like I wasted anything. I had an incredible time being young. I was surrounded by beautiful, wild, wonderful human beings who loved me fiercely.
And maybe that’s what makes solitude feel so full rather than empty. Because I carry those moments, those people, and that love with me.
Even when I’m alone—I’m never really alone.
What This Season is Teaching Me
Ecclesiastes 3:11 – “He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.”
Life keeps moving. The bars change. The dance floors disappear. The crowds come and go. But who we were, what we shared, that never leaves us.
Solitude has a way of revealing what really matters. And sometimes, being alone is exactly what we need to remember how deeply connected we truly are.
Lenten Reflection: The Holiness of Stillness
Lent is a time of quieting the noise, stepping back from distractions, and reconnecting with God. It’s a season that reminds us that sometimes, the holiest moments are not found in the crowds, but in the stillness.
Jesus often withdrew to lonely places to pray (Luke 5:16). He knew that in solitude, we don’t lose ourselves—we find ourselves.
Perhaps the lesson in all of this is that solitude is not emptiness—it is preparation. The quiet moments, the walks alone, the times when life slows down, they are all invitations to listen.
🔹 What is solitude teaching you?
🔹 Where do you feel closest to God when the world is silent?
🔹 How can you embrace stillness as part of your spiritual journey?
This Lent, may we not rush to fill the silence, but instead, rest in it. May we trust that even in solitude, we are never truly alone.
Take care of yourselves and take care of each other.
Read my Lenten Reflections at: https://www.flanneldiaries.com link in bio.
Happy St. Patrick's Day! ☘️ Enjoy your green beer and corned beef and cabbage!
It's a fairly warm day, so I'll probably head out and play a round of golf. I decided in my 30s that when I turned 40, I would start playing golf—it just seemed like a good sport to take up in my 40s. After I turned 41, I figured it was time to actually follow through.
I found out my friend Amy Monson played golf, so I asked if she could teach me how to play. I had never played in my life beyond putt-putt golf and a single trip to the driving range. That was it. I had no real golf history.
I played multiple sports in high school—tennis, basketball, track & field—and even played on a women’s intramural softball team in my 20s. So, while I might not look like it, I’m a fairly athletic person. I figured if I could hit a fast-moving ball with a racket, surely I could hit a tiny ball with a stick.
Turns out, golf is way more complicated than just hitting a ball with a stick. Getting that ball into a tiny hole without sending it into the woods, a pond, or a sand trap? That’s a different story. (I’m very good at doing that.)
I bought a cheap set of clubs because I wasn’t even sure if I’d like the game. I met up with Amy at Lewiston Golf & Country Club—a small, rural 9-hole course surrounded by cornfields. It was the perfect place for my first real round of golf.
I was surprised when, after Amy showed me the basics—how to swing, how to keep my eye on the ball—she suggested we go ahead and play a full round. I wasn’t good, but I was hooked. I loved it. And Amy was patient and kind, which made all the difference.
It was one of the best days—hanging out with a good friend, searching for my lost balls in the cornfields (pun intended), drinking some beers, and eating a chicken sandwich in the clubhouse. What more could you ask for on a day off?
The Peace of the Game
When my mind gets full of racing thoughts and clutter, I find that being on the golf course helps me slow down. It gives me something to focus on—a tiny ball, a tiny hole, one shot at a time.
I used to think golf was an old white man’s elitist game. It didn’t seem accessible to people like me. I never expected to love it as much as I do. Not everyone has four hours to spend playing 18 holes, but if you do, there’s nothing better than walking a golf course on a warm, clear day, taking in the view and fresh air. Sometimes, there’s no one else out there—it’s just you, the ball, and the next shot.
I play with friends, but I’ve realized I love playing alone. It’s one of the few times where my mind is completely quiet. I’m not thinking about work, life, stress—I’m just thinking about that little ball and keeping it out of the pond.
Over the years, I’ve upgraded my clubs a few times. The first time was after a breakup—a gift to myself, because why not? I even convinced my friend Brandy to love golf. She’s one of the few people willing to golf with me when the ponds are still frozen.
Brandy, "Why are we doing this?"
Me, "Because we love golf. And we’re Minnesotan."
Golf & Life: Lessons in Persistence
Golf is a lot like life. One moment, you make an absolutely terrible shot. But the next? You hit something spectacularly beautiful.
It takes persistence. Patience. Practice. Three things that can make us better at anything—including golf.
I’m good at a lot of things because I love to learn and I have a tenacious personality. I’m never going to go pro, but every season, I get a little bit better.
Golf even helped rehabilitate my back after my 2017 injury. It took two years, but now? My back has never felt better. (And if you’ve ever herniated a disc, you know—it sucks. A lot.)
Lenten Reflection: Keep Going, One Shot at a Time
Lent is a season of self-reflection, discipline, and growth.
Romans 5:3-4 reminds us: “We also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.”
Like golf, like life, like faith—sometimes, we make terrible shots. We end up in the rough, in the sand trap, or in the water. We get frustrated, we doubt ourselves, we wonder why we even bother.
But perseverance is the key. We keep swinging. We adjust. We try again. And eventually, we make progress.
That’s what Lent is about—sticking with it, even when it’s hard. Even when it’s messy. Even when we don’t see the results right away.
The fairway may be long, the course unpredictable, but if we keep taking the next shot, step by step, we’ll get there.
☘️ Happy St. Patrick’s Day—may your shots be straight, your beers be cold, and your faith be persistent. 🏌🏽♂️✨
Take care of yourselves and take care of each other.
Read my Lenten Reflections at: https://www.flanneldiaries.com link in bio.
"But now I am going to him who sent me. None of you asks me, ‘Where are you going?’ Rather, you are filled with grief because I have said these things. But very truly I tell you, it is for your good that I am going away. Unless I go away, the Advocate will not come to you; but if I go, I will send him to you." — John 16:5-7
"On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jewish leaders, Jesus came and stood among them and said, 'Peace be with you!' After he said this, he showed them his hands and side. The disciples were overjoyed when they saw the Lord. Again Jesus said, 'Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.' And with that he breathed on them and said, 'Receive the Holy Spirit.'” — John 20:19-22
The Pain of Letting Go & The Power of Transformation
Lent is a season of letting go—of certainty, of control, of comfort. It is a time of walking through the wilderness of grief, doubt, and waiting, trusting that something greater is coming even when we cannot yet see it.
In John 16:5-7, Jesus speaks words that terrify His disciples: “I must go.” They can’t understand why. They are consumed by grief, filled with fear. How could His leaving possibly be good for them?
But Jesus is telling them something profound: Transformation requires change. Growth requires discomfort. Liberation requires letting go.
By John 20:19-22, we see the disciples after Jesus' death—hiding behind locked doors, overcome by fear. Fear of empire. Fear of the religious elite. Fear that everything they believed in was collapsing.
But then, Jesus enters their fear. He breathes on them. He gives them the Spirit. He sends them out.
What they thought was the end was actually the beginning of their liberation.
Liberation Theology: The Spirit is in the Struggle
Jesus’ words are a challenge not just for the disciples, but for us today.
The systems of empire, white supremacy, patriarchy, and capitalism teach us to cling to what is safe—to protect our power, to maintain the status quo, to fear change.
But liberation theology tells us that the Spirit is not found in safety—it is found in movement, in disruption, in change.
Jesus had to leave for the Spirit to come.
The disciples had to let go of their fear to step into their purpose.
We must be willing to release our own grip on certainty, privilege, and comfort if we are to step into true justice.
The Spirit is not a passive comforter—it is a force of liberation. It is the power that broke the chains of slavery, led people to resist colonization, marched in civil rights movements, and continues to stir in the fight for LGBTQ+ rights, racial justice, and economic equity today.
Where Are We Locking Ourselves Away?
The disciples were locked behind doors, trapped by fear.
Where do we see that same fear today?
Fear of speaking out against oppression because it might cost us something.
Fear of dismantling systems that benefit some at the expense of others.
Fear of stepping fully into our calling because we don’t know what it will demand of us.
But Jesus enters that fear.
And He doesn’t just offer peace—He offers a mission.
“As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.”
He is calling us out of fear and into the work of justice, of liberation, of love that takes risks.
Lenten Call to Action: The Courage to Step Forward
This Lent, we are called to ask ourselves difficult questions:
🔹 What are we afraid to let go of?
🔹 Where have we locked ourselves away in fear?
🔹 What new breath, what new life, is the Spirit trying to give us?
We are not just called to keep our heads above water—we are called to swim toward the shore, to move forward with intention.
Even when the world tells us to give up, we press forward. Even when injustice feels overwhelming, we resist. Even when we are afraid, the Spirit is already sending us forward.
The work of liberation is not easy. But the Spirit has already been breathed upon us. Now, we must go.
🔥 Peace be with you. And may we all have the courage to receive it.
Take care of yourselves and take care of each other.
Read my Lenten Reflections at: https://www.flanneldiaries.com link in bio.