I took too many photos (Is that even possible?) during my recent trip to Guatemala. Whittling down the images I processed in black and white for this post was a bit painful. Like trying to tell Baskin-Robbins what flavor I want. (In case you’re interested, it’s always vanilla. I know… I know…)
This first gallery contains images from Antigua, Santa Maria de Jesús, Santiago Atitlan and Altamira Oriole Antigua.
Opportunities to love the unnoticed and to care for the forgotten are opportunities to have your soul grounded in what matters, and liberated from all the temporal pursuits that occupy so much of our mental and spiritual energy.
Our contact in Guatemala took us to a ministry in Santa Maria de Jesús that provided a solid foundation for the best that we image bearers carry – namely our longing to connect and to express love for others – as well as giving us a chance to be uncaged from our many preferred prisons. Examples abound.
The ministry is called Harvesting Happiness. The work is profoundly simple and indescribably beautiful. Provide lunch for the elderly population. Provide a gathering space where the aged can enjoy a meal, create art, and have their birthday’s celebrated. They also bring lunch to the elderly who cannot walk due to illness or other physical limitations. Beautiful.
Which brings us to Carmen, and her home.
Standing next to Carmen is Brennan. She is one of the ministry leaders at Harvesting Happiness who leverages her medical training to help Carmen’s oxygen saturation go from below 90 to a marginally acceptable level that morning, and consistently uses her super power (love and other-centeredness) to impact the elderly community around her. Carmen considers Brennan to be her “mom.” Carmen remembers her mom, and feels like the love, care, and medical oversight that she experiences through Brennan is her mother’s love returning to her. Our Guatemala contact built her home a few years back.
Let me encourage you to find the unnoticed and to love them. Let me also encourage you to find ways to be uncaged. Thanks for stopping by. I don’t know when exactly it is, but… Happy Birthday.
What does the crucifixion and death of Jesus on the Cross say to our modern, latte driven, texting oriented, overscheduled lives?
One of my earliest memories as a child was the large Cross in the sanctuary of the church I grew up in. When I tell my story I talk about how I first heard God speak to me as I pondered the Cross. It was not an audible voice I heard. It was more like an understanding that gently covered me. Looking at the figure of an emaciated, gaunt, suffering Jesus nearly dangling on a cross is the most important moment and image any one of us will ever behold or contemplate.
It is there where the mystery of the love and mercy of God meets the sin and darkness in my soul. It is there where the whole world can find freedom and forgiveness and where God lifts the burden and pain of failure and shame from the back of our souls, and from the very core of our being.
I am not speaking of magic, or some metaphysical allegory that somehow heals my brokenness. The Cross is not a place upon which we toss our wishful thinking. Reject it, mock it, turn away from it in disbelief… its power and proclamation remains undiminished… unhindered:
He did not retaliate when he was insulted, nor threaten revenge when he suffered. He left his case in the hands of God, who always judges fairly.
He personally carried our sins in his body on the cross so that we can be dead to sin and live for what is right. By his wounds you are healed. Once you were like sheep who wandered away. But now you have turned to your Shepherd, the Guardian of your souls. – 1 Peter 2:23-25
The Cross is real. The suffering is unimaginable. In the course of human history no one has suffered like Jesus did. No one. Ever. Isaiah rightly describes Jesus and, apart from His grace and mercy, my response to Him. Our response to Him:
He was despised and rejected—a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief. We turned our backs on him and looked the other way. He was despised, and we did not care. – Isaiah 53:3
And it is the suffering of Jesus that, even as a young boy, called from deep within me a profound and unstoppable hope.
Look at the Cross. Reflect on the suffering of Jesus. This is what the love of God looks like. As a boy, I remember the light from the candles in St. Raphael’s parish dancing on the face of Jesus. Hope in flashes of flickering light on the crucified Christ. Now, so many years later, I realize that one of the many gifts of the suffering of Jesus is the assurance that he knows my suffering. He knows our suffering.
Have you ever been falsely accused? I bet you didn’t like it. Have you ever heard a friend make a promise to have your back and to see you through to the end, only to have that friend leave you all alone. All of Jesus’ friends did that to him. Have you ever felt that aweful deep down ache because you were misunderstood? Have you ever been physically struck and hurt because someone else thought it was funny? Have you ever been made fun of? Mocked? Have you ever experienced anxiety? Jesus sweated drops of blood as he prayed to His Father to, …take this cup from me.
Jesus chose to suffer for you. Now we can look to Him and ask Him to guide us, give us grace and help us in our suffering and pain. But we must follow Him. It is too easy to want resurrection – and all praise to God, for Jesus is alive. But the only road to life and the light of Christ is the road of suffering.
We must follow Him along the via Dolorosa. The release from our pain, the soothing of our anxiety, the healing of our bodies, the calming of our mind is along the path of darkness, uncertainty, disorientation, rejection and confusion. It is taking our Cross and following Jesus. It is kneeling beside Him in the garden and saying not my will, but yours be done.
Good Friday. 2026. The Cross of Jesus.
Will you reflect on the Cross today? Will you see Jesus suffering for you so that you, in the midst of heartache, loss, anxiety, rejection, and sorrow, can also experience the hope and understanding of our loving Savior?
Over the course of my life it seems that Jesus has continually reminded me of the grace, love and power of the Cross.
There was a Cross above us on the day we were married. I saw the Cross at the end of a pew in the sad remains of the church I grew up in. I saw the Cross in a small wooden prayer room decorated with the prayers of God’s children. I saw the Cross brightly break through a cold, winter morning. I saw the Cross on Salvation Mountain. I saw the Crosses that my mom placed all over her house. I saw the Cross in the midst of the tragic loss of life, when so much ended for so many. I saw the Cross in a new sanctuary. Still speaking to listening ears.
Ponder the Cross of Jesus. Let the Man of Sorrows cover your sin and shame. Walk with Him… listen to Him… confess your sins to Him… receive His forgiveness… He. Loves. You.
I cannot recall a time when I felt more proud and profoundly sad – to the point of weeping – at the same time.
My mother and father were not wanted in the white suburban neighborhood that was the cultural context of my home. I only found out as an adult that my parents experienced racism. In junior high and high school I was often called a “spic” and also experienced racism.
My parents and the beautiful, crazy, loving till it hurt, generous, loud, FUNNY, hard working, intelligent, beautiful Puerto Rican family that I was a part of was the song, dance, and light of my life.
Dancing in the basement of my uncle’s house in the Bronx while LP’s spun Salsa music in the air are golden memories that I would love… just love to step into and experience once again… even if it was just 5 minutes to see what, as a boy, I could not fully comprehend: people filled with so much love and joy who were also familiar with heartache, tragedy, misery and pain.
And, if I could be there again… just for 5 minutes… I would embrace them all and thank them and praise them for all the goodness, kindness and love they gave to me. They certainly weren’t perfect… but they were present… to me, to each other, and they found solace and refuge in their culture. A culture that celebrates, rejoices, works so hard, laughs and loves. They understood that together we are family.
My mother and father are Americans who were born in Puerto Rico. In case you are not aware, Bad Bunny is also an American born in Puerto Rico. I am the first generation on my father’s side born in New York. I am also an American. I still remember the sadness in my mother’s eyes because she struggled to speak English. My mom and dad are the most American Americans that I will ever know. They never forgot who they were and the beauty and depth of the culture of La Isla del Encanto
For the past 2-3 weeks I have been listening to Bad Bunny’s Grammy Award winning album, Debí Tirar Más Fotos. The songs feel like the soundtrack of my life. I could not be more proud to be Puerto Rican.
I was told that we are “…one nation, under God, INDIVISIBLE with LIBERTY and JUSTICE for ALL.” We can only make that pledge with integrity if we make it our mission. We can only make that pledge with honesty if that is how we choose to live and love others, especially those from all the nations that make up our nation. It seems that our behavior and our chosen allegiances reveal a different pledge: “…a nation, under siege from within, with liberty and justice for some…”
When Bad Bunny ended his amazing performance with “Together We are America” and the parade of flags from Latin American nations I began to think of the nations that make up our nation. I see no reason not to celebrate and learn about the nations that make up our nation, because together we are America. I see no reason not to listen, empathize and give liberty and justice for those who are marginalized, forced to live in fear, or just trying to make their way because they struggle with English, because together we are America. I see no reason not to dance, sing and celebrate my heritage and culture in the land of the free(?) because together we are America.
Thank you, mom and dad, for loving well. Thank you for being brave, strong and true to who you are in the midst of racism and hatred. Thank you for making life not about those who hate, but about passing on your heritage and legacy of laughter and love.
One day, when God gives justice and all is made right, our nation’s flag and pledge will no longer matter. It will be irrelevant. All nations will surrender before the true King of Kings. All nations will bow before the majesty and splendor of the victorious Savior of the world. We can celebrate all nations now because the nations will be welcome in eternity. Not just one nation. All nations.
I did not see a temple in the city, because the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are its temple. The city does not need the sun or the moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and the Lamb is its lamp. The nations will walk by its light, and the kings of the earth will bring their splendor into it. On no day will its gates ever be shut, for there will be no night there. The glory and honor of the nations will be brought into it. Revelation 21:22-26
sometimes i need to find the time and silence to unwind these coils of lies these shackles of shame and the commotion in my soul so i sit in slow motion while i name each derision and consciously make the decision to breathe in the Light of the World and exhale all these false tales that shield my heart from receiving the love on the Cross He is bleeding for me losing His life to save my own taking my sin calling it His own this Christmas child a King has come to reign through love and set me free from the insanity of my own making so like these winter trees i’ll surrender the leaves those colors were so nice but it’s just a show so i’ll let them go and die to what i think i know will set me free and stay here in the mystery of winter’s necessary death it won’t last long so with each breath i’ll wait and sing a song to the Christmas King as He works in my soul and rights all wrongs He is my healer my story writer and life giver i’ll wait while He does some slow motion mending old things must have an ending to make room for the new
when i see all the unrest the could care less and carelessness from those who should be our best it’s like a colorless sunset hollow empty shiny but still somethin’s missin’ life is just dissin’ you and me got to see these leaders and who they really be raisin’ anger makin’ danger riled up fired up lied to free to upset regress and not reset the soul or console the whole of our cities our children all the cryin’ moms does anyone hear the tears they just busy shoutin’ making fear screamin’ for what what do you want take off your mask and task yourself with being someone who is against the grain relieving pain runnin’ away from the insane inane life drain of sin and self of placing humanity on the shelf so your cause won’t die what’s the use if we just abuse and use and consider others refuse to throw away when they refuse to say what i want them to say Lord color us with mercy and grace make space for us to change and stop leaning into feelings and stay here kneeling into releasing the darkness we think is the light color our hearts with love light and truth solid unchangeable unquenchable truth fire that is higher than our silly ways have your way save us from us and deliver us to a new that never dies and that one day will help us to transcend the skies and leave this place of sorrow and woe no more night no more pain tears left behind oh God above make it so make it so we confess our sin leave judgment to you invite you to look within our broken hearts help us to start to say no to lies and yes to your truth oh God have mercy have mercy oh God color our hearts like a sunset singing loud testifying that you are here you entered our pain lived died and rose again HALLELUJAH! won’t you help us down here won’t you help us down here
something solid something sure at the beginning of the end and i am feeling insecure what will it take for this heart to settle down i think it’s something solid something sure
something that lasts something i can count on i can’t seem to stop surrendering to the stories i tell myself no happy endings why am i spending time in all the shadows won’t you tell me please what will it take for my mind to be at ease i think something that lasts something i can count on
something quiet something safe when it all unravels when the puzzle pieces don’t match the picture on the box what will it take for my soul to rest for my eyes to see i think it must be something quiet something safe
there is an old story of the Son of Man that abides through the centuries He walked upon the same ancient soil that i stumble upon His words true and sure pierce my heart and a small glowing calm lifts my head
for He was before and will always be His love is for all time and my mind can’t understand but i choose to anchor my thoughts to the peace of His everlasting wisdom His never ending love
and into all my searching in the midst of all the bingeing and the scrolling He shouts stillness into the noise of my life calming restoring reminding renewing resurrecting and singing over me the pain remains but i am unharmed confusion seems to hold sway but my fear is consoled by His presence beside me above me beneath me all around me there is a storm but He is
We (my wife and I) are grateful to be back in the hometown that we grew up in on Long Island. My parents still live in the house I was raised in, so coming home is always filled with nostalgia and the telling of old stories and discovering new memories.
It is rare to visit Long Island and not go to the beach to take pictures, but the weather has been dark, rainy, and windy. More like a blustery day in November from a Winnie the Pooh story than springtime in New York.
So, since walking through torrential cold rain along the shore did seem to have its drawbacks, I decided to take pictures of my home and found myself drawn to the… well… probably thousands of… knickknacks? Home decor items?… that are just… everywhere. I suddenly realized that my childhood home is like living in the pages of an “I Spy” book.
I am quite sure that Better Homes and Gardens (is that magazine still around?) would not feature this home in an article on “How to Decorate Your Home with 1,000 Little Things” or “The Latest Home Decor Trend: I Spy Living.” But I sure had fun finding little treasures on this Winnie the Pooh blustery day.
Retrobox! How cool is that? And tiny Santa pants, and a snow covered cottage, and – this is one of the themes in my home and life – “Coffee please.” Coffee, in case you are wondering, is the fountain of youth. Just ask my mom who is about to turn 97.
Music is another theme in my home. My dad would play energetic Puerto Rican (another theme) beats in a Spotify-less world where the radio host would announce the next song or two by completing a string of basically slurred Spanish words delivered at the speed of sound with a hearty, “LA SALSA!”
Jesus is another… not a theme… I would say a presence in my home. Reverence… spiritual interest and pursuit was imprinted on my heart in my growing up years. I am grateful for how that influence shaped me.
The deepest, most precious, immeasurable treasure in my home is love. This is my bride embracing my mom when we arrived in the evening. Moments like these adorn this home. It was not a perfect home. It has known heartache and sorrow. But at the center of a thousand knickknacks is a story of love… warmth… family… a wordless embrace… love.
a cup of coffee
in a little corner of my home
lights and shadows
remind me of what lies within me
darkness and light
love and hate
goodness and self-centeredness
the memories descend
life and love
family and friends
grace and peace
laughter and song
so many gifts
undeserved and plentiful
soon the wraith
of dim stories arrives
failures
loss
shame
and the quiet ache
of all things left undone
and of all that i have done
to others and to myself
i choose to surrender
to all the images
that so quickly float
through my mind
as i lift my gaze
in a little corner of my home
three crosses
Calvary
such an ugly place
of death
of pain
of sorrow
of suffering
and it is there
in the midst
of the darkness and light
of my life
it is only there
where the lies i tell
and the lies i believe
are exposed
where my shame is undone
in love and acceptance
where i trade my burden
for hope
mercy
love
and the lightness
of forgiveness
and i realize
He is here
with me
in a little corner
of my home
rutakintome pictures 
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