This past Sunday, I attended a Catholic Mass in honor of my deceased Aunt Pat and Uncle Leo. It has been 20 years since we lost them, which feels impossible and also so obvious because things have never been the same since. My Aunt Pat was the heartbeat of my family and was simply the warmest human I’ve ever met.

I hadn’t been to Mass in years. Perhaps not since my son made his Confirmation three years ago. I was raised Catholic but we’re not “churchy”. I’ll be honest - I didn’t believe people still packed churches anymore unless it was the token Christmas Eve or Easter Sunday Mass.

I walked into the Gate of Heaven church in South Boston and was so moved, instantly. The church itself is magnificent. It was a 12:00 mass and every pew was full. All ages were in attendance. Young vibrant families with adorable doe eyed toddlers. There were older folks, (the OG Southie people -my family) and many in between. All I can say is the energy was infectious. It made me realize how thirsty I am these days for spirituality. For faith to be the leading story.

Beneath the ticker tape of my mind, I have a story running that claims I am not a church person. I try to peel that back and I’m not even sure exactly where it originated. I’m sure it has a lot to do with the scandals of the Catholic Church but there’s more to it than that.

Perhaps it doesn’t matter what started the story. What mattered in that moment last Sunday was how I felt while there. It felt like a quiet return to something that missed me too.

I lead with this because this month at DARE TO BE the theme we’ll be exploring is STORIES. The stories we tell ourselves and the ones we double down on for years. The internal narratives that write the years that become our lives. The invisible scripts that we turn into the screenplay of our lives.

I’m beginning to wonder what it might be like to step back into a more traditional faith practice. It feels good to wonder that way. To know I can write a new chapter. To know I can revise it all.

Nature will always be my church without pews. I can’t tell you how many birch trees are catching my eyes these days. It’s as though they are jumping out at me, waving their empty branches and saying, come over here for a visit.

This one in particular told me a new tale. One that said look at all you can see when I’m bare. I noticed the small peelings. The trunk shedding its own story perhaps.

And up at the top - the nest. In winter my daughter and I like to count all the nests we find. All the homes the birds made in the spring and summer that were hidden until now.

It all makes me wonder, what story about winter can I shed this season? Perhaps the one that says the trees are most beautiful in the fall. Sometimes letting the colorful parts of us fall away is how we land in the richest parts of us. We can drift into the true story beneath the story.

Another winter tale I’ve convinced myself is true is that I will feel low and sad in the darker and colder days. In previous seasons, I would be prepared with my SAD lamp1. This is not to say Seasonal Affective Disorder is a made-up story. It is a real thing that afflicts many. I am just someone who knows I can convince myself something is coming before I have any evidence it is on the way. And now, this season, I’m ready to drop all the planning and posturing.

I’m not doing the thing I think will ward off the thing I think will keep me low. I’m getting out of my own way and seeing what this season has in store for me. I won’t prescribe myself a remedy preemptively.

With all of this running through my writerly mind, I happened across a little notebook tucked away in a bookshelf I was tidying. This small pop-it rainbow covered spiral notebook was used by my daughter years ago as her journal (apparently, a diary of sorts to God). I never knew it existed until now. Her words put to rest a story I wrapped myself around for years. One that may sound familiar to you if you are a mom who prioritizes self-care.

She signed every entry with a “bye God” and with her name as the header. I teared up reading this one because for years I convinced myself that dedicating my time and myself to running and training for races was taking me away from my kids. That it was me being a little too into me, a little bit selfish. And all along, my kid was telling God how much fun she has just being there next to me, watching me run as she plays with our dog and chills with the T.V.

We villainize ourselves in these stories when really, we are someone else’s favorite character.

Here is this month’s FOUR TO FOLLOW. Writers whose words remind me of my own true stories. Because I think that’s what we are all here to do. We share our stories so that we find the truer story beneath it all - the one where we all belong.

The second Friday of every month includes our FOUR TO FOLLOW feature spotlight of other writers on Substack that are daring me to feel. It’s a shout out to fellow creatives who moved me, shook me, made me nod my head or shed a tear this month. Because that’s what I want when I read. I want to be moved. I think you do, too.

One story I like to visit is the one in my head where Kate Bowler and I are best friends. In this tale we meet for coffee regularly and talk about all the heavy that the rest of the world heaves away.

If you don’t already follow all that Kate is doing, go follow her here. She is currently sharing a daily devotion dedicated to Advent here on Substack. I’ve been reading them while sipping my coffee. It’s been the sweetest opening to dawn each day. It’s not too late to get caught up. You’ll thank me. Your nervous system will thank you. Your beating faith hungry heart will thank you.

Here’s week one: Advent Week 1: Hope

and the current week two: Advent Week 2: Peace

Kate’s offering:

Another daily devotional I am offering myself is a slow visit with Elena Brower’s new book, Hold Nothing. I mean, look at the beauty that is this book cover

This book is meant to be savored. Each chapter contains short reflections that are all invitations for you to revisit your own stories. Elena shares snapshots of her own tales with rich reflections and invitational prompts that transports you right into your own story. Reading through it, you’ll feel held up. Elena has this remarkable quality of distilling things down with such simplicity while simultaneously weaving it all with deep wisdom. You close the book and realize any overwhelm that was buzzing has dissolved. She’s like a Jedi Master, I swear. Slowly reading through it I am learning to go slow with my own stories. This practice is strengthening my own self-trust and respect. I’m feeling sturdy enough to poke the embers of my own fire, becoming a companion to my true flame. Quiet embers keeping myself warm. It is the perfect winter reading companion.

Oftentimes, The Long Road Makes a Story Worth Telling. Just this week, Caroline Beidler, MSW announced exciting news (x2). Her Circle of Chairs podcast is becoming a podcast in the land where all the podcasts play. And Caroline’s next book, When You Love Someone in Recovery: A Hopeful Guide to Understanding Addiction, is coming out in April, 2026.

If you are a writer like me who is finally opening your eyes and arms to the belief that you can do this too (you can write a book, too) listen to Caroline’s latest solo podcast episode. I found it so helpful and inspiring.

In the essay, You're Not Who You Think You Are Meditate with Ram Dass delivered a timely reminder to me:

Most people never question the character they play.
They stay loyal to an identity that was constructed out of habit, fear, conditioning, and hope.
But there are moments, usually in transition, heartbreak, stillness, exhaustion, or retreat,
when the edges of that identity begin to loosen.
When something inside whispers,
This isn’t the whole story. This isn’t all of me.

And if you don’t rush to tighten back into the familiar shape,
you begin to feel yourself opening into something larger.

It’s that rubber band habit that gets me. I can stretch my mind out, know I am more than what I tell myself, but eventually my habit energy restricts myself back to the story I carry. These stories I keep in my personal library might be worth putting down while saying quietly to myself, THE END.

It doesn’t matter if you practice Zen, attend weekly Bible studies, go to 9:00 Mass every day. We are all storytellers. We all can re-write our stories at any time. And God wants to hear what we have to say. Always.

ANNOUNCEMENT:

Because I believe in the magnetic inspiration of community, I will be offering Creative Co-Working Gatherings in 2026. It will be a quick 30-minute meet up on Zoom where you bring whatever it is you are working on. An essay, a bigger writing project or ANY project (clean your closet, tidy that desk, quilt, re-arrange the pantry). This need not be only for writers. If there is something you know you want to work on and also know you can easily kick that can down the road of the day and not do it, come join. There is something about being together (yes even in the squares on the ethers of the internet) that can propel you. Shared momentum is a thing. Instead of working in isolation, the collective drive pushes everyone forward. There is no pressure to share any of it. Just create side by side.

I will open each gathering with a short quote or reading to get our inspo juices going and off to the races we go. This will start off as a free offering for all subscribers but eventually it may only be for paid. I’m not sure how it will unravel. The time of day we meet, and the days of the week will vary. More to come. Stay tuned.

In Case You Missed It:

The first installment in this month’s theme of STORIES

Meet Me in the Comments:

• What story will you re-write today?

• Do you prescribe yourself remedies preemptively? Before the evidence is even here. What winter story will you revise?

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