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.
“Let us not grow weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” — Galatians 6:9
It has been five years since my mom passed away. Technically, my siblings and I are orphans. It’s an interesting club to be part of.
My dad passed away in 2009 from lung cancer. He was diagnosed in 2007, and the first thing I did was search for a prognosis. WebMD estimated he had two to five years. He was turning 70 and had planned to come to the States with my mom and nephew for a family reunion and a birthday celebration. Instead, he canceled their tickets and checked into a hospital in Cebu. A doctor promised to save his life by removing 80% of his left lung. My sister, an oncology nurse, urged him to return to the States so she could care for him. But my dad, ever the narcissist, believed he knew better and clung to hope. There’s nothing wrong with that. Had he chosen chemo and radiation instead of surgery alone, he might have had more than two years. But that’s neither here nor there.
I miss my mom every day. Even though we were separated by 5,000 miles, I always knew I could visit her—if I was willing to endure 16 to 30 hours on a plane. Turning 50 and deciding to go to law school was an interesting choice, one I had put off for far too long. I wasn’t afraid of the LSATs; I just didn’t think I was smart enough. I still don’t know if I am. But on the first day, our professors and advisors reassured us: we deserved to be there. We had worked hard to get into law school, and what we did from that point on was up to us. They were there to help us succeed.
I know my life has been a dumpster fire for a few years. I needed a break from my regularly programmed existence. But I also know my mom and dad were proud of me—and still are. They had plenty of commentary about how I lived my life when they were alive. Not about being gay; they worried more about me being alone. Instead of giving me relationship advice, they taught me to be fiercely independent: how to balance a checkbook, change a tire, darn a sock, cook, and clean. I appreciated their thoughtfulness, but I also wondered—why didn’t they think I could maintain a long-term relationship?
I’m fine. Really. My life is full. I have lived different lives, embarked on many adventures, and now, I am on another great one—diving into the unknown of higher education and a terminal degree. No matter how many career advancements or professional achievements I attain, it will never feel like enough. Not because I lack intelligence, but because a system exists to make people like me feel that way. Erasing that broken record of doubt is its own adventure. But I persist. As we all should.
Like many, I have felt stuck. I’ve made poor choices—sometimes the same ones repeatedly—wondering what I need to change. A friend once gave me great advice in my early twenties. I told her I always felt like I was just trying to keep my head above water. She asked simply, "Have you ever thought about swimming to shore?" I hadn’t. I was using all my energy to stay afloat; maybe I could find the strength to swim to safety. It sounds simple, but it isn’t. Still, it is a different way to look at being stuck. Maybe we all need to start swimming to shore.
Lenten Reflection:
As we journey through Lent, a time of reflection and renewal, I find solace in knowing that even in struggle, there is purpose. In the wilderness of grief, self-doubt, and reinvention, we are not alone. Just as Jesus fasted and faced temptation in the desert, we, too, endure trials that test our resilience. But through faith and perseverance, we emerge stronger.
Galatians 6:9 reminds us: "Let us not grow weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up."
In a world that feels increasingly heavy—with injustice, hate, and systemic oppression pressing in—it’s easy to feel exhausted, to wonder if our efforts even matter. But this verse calls us to persevere, to keep showing up, to keep fighting for what is right even when the progress seems slow and the resistance relentless.
May we press forward, not just struggling to keep our heads above water, but finding the strength to push forward, to create change, and to build the future we deserve. The shore is distant, but it is there. And together, we will reach it.
Take care of yourself and take care of each other.