Advocating for My Health: The Zyrtec Washout Challenge

One thing I've learned throughout this health journey is that getting answers often requires patience, persistence, and sometimes a willingness to be uncomfortable for a little while.

As I prepare for my upcoming allergy testing appointment, I've entered what allergists call a "washout period." For those who haven't experienced it, this means stopping antihistamines, including Zyrtec, before testing so the results can accurately reflect how my body responds to potential allergens.

On paper, it sounds simple.

In reality, it's another reminder that medical testing isn't always convenient.

For quite some time, Zyrtec has helped manage many of the symptoms I've been experiencing. Stepping away from that support, even temporarily, means allowing symptoms to return so the testing can provide the clearest possible picture. It's not particularly enjoyable, but it's necessary.  There was vomiting & dry heaves which left an upset stomach making refueling and rehydrating a challenge.  There is also fatigue - physical, emotional, and mental.

What strikes me is how perfectly this fits into the larger lesson I've been learning over the past several months: advocating for your health often requires short-term sacrifices in pursuit of long-term answers.

There are no shortcuts.

Just as I've been coordinating between my primary care physician, allergist, dentist, and workplace accommodation process, this washout period is another step in gathering information. It's another piece of the puzzle. Another opportunity to understand what's really happening instead of simply treating symptoms and hoping for the best.

The experience has also reinforced something I've written about before: uncertainty can be exhausting.

When symptoms return, it's tempting to question whether you're making progress. It's tempting to want immediate solutions. But sometimes progress looks less like feeling better today and more like obtaining the information needed to make better decisions tomorrow.

That's where endurance comes in again.

Endurance isn't only showing up for appointments. It's following testing requirements even when they're inconvenient. It's trusting the process when you would rather skip ahead to the answers. It's recognizing that temporary discomfort sometimes serves a greater purpose.  It is being honest with family and friends about how you're feeling whether it's telling my husband that I need bland foods or sharing with my Crossfit coach that I'm not 100% but I want to participate in class & move.

As I've entered this washout period, I've found myself reminded that advocating for my health isn't about demanding immediate certainty. It's about taking the next step, one step at a time, even when the finish line isn't yet visible.

I don't know what the allergy testing will reveal.

I don't know what recommendations will come afterward.

What I do know is that accurate information matters. And sometimes obtaining that information requires walking through an uncomfortable season first.

For now, the goal remains the same: keep moving forward, keep asking questions, keep working with my medical team, and keep trusting that each step brings me closer to clarity.

Because advocating for our health isn't just about seeking answers.

Sometimes it's about doing what is necessary to find them.

Scripture Reflection

"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

This washout period may be temporary, but the answers it helps uncover could have a lasting impact. For now, I'm focusing on the next step and trusting the process.

Resources:

Copilot for SEO optimization.

YouVersion - Scriptures

Advocating for My Health in the Middle of Uncertainty

There is a particular kind of exhaustion that comes from living in the space between concern and resolution. I'm living it firsthand.

When you're dealing with health concerns, there usually isn't one appointment that suddenly provides all the answers. Instead, there are consultations, testing, follow-up appointments, referrals to specialists, and conversations about possible treatment options. One provider may have one perspective, while another sees something different. Sometimes a test answers a question only to raise several more.

What I've learned over the past several months is that managing a workplace accommodation can feel like a second full-time job.

One of the most challenging parts has been trying to coordinate information among multiple healthcare providers. Right now, I'm working with my primary care physician, an allergist whom I'll see in August, and my dentist, who recently completed a 360 scan after noticing concerning areas on routine x-rays.

Then there is the accommodation process itself. I've already had two case managers. The first sent a letter to my primary care physician asking her to reconsider the medical certification she had originally completed supporting permanent remote work. I didn't receive a copy of that letter and didn't even know it existed until my second case manager mentioned it. During the same conversation, I was told that "the department" wanted me to return to hybrid work, not even at my regular office, but at an alternative location where my teammates don't work.

The challenge is that the timeline of medical care and the timeline of workplace expectations don't always align.

The reality of many health situations is that the process is rarely linear. We all want certainty. We want a diagnosis, a treatment plan, and a clear path forward. Instead, we're often waiting for the next appointment, the next test, or the next conversation.

Yet workplace decisions are often expected before that process is complete.

When there is pressure to return to a hybrid environment before testing has concluded, before specialists have weighed in, and before potential treatment options have even been discussed, it creates a difficult tension. I want to be cooperative. I want to do my job well. At the same time, I think it's reasonable to want a clearer understanding of what's happening with my health before making decisions that could impact it further.

Living in that tension takes endurance.

Advocating for accommodations is important. Documentation matters. Communication matters. Following up with providers matters.

What I've struggled with is not letting the process consume all of my mental energy.

It's easy to replay conversations in your head. To wonder whether your concerns are being taken seriously. To analyze every email. To worry about the next meeting and what might be said.

I've spent more nights than I'd like to admit lying awake, running through scenarios and conversations that haven't even happened yet.

The problem is that endless worrying rarely produces clarity.

I'm learning there is a difference between advocating and obsessing.

Advocating means taking the next appropriate step.

Obsessing means carrying the entire unresolved situation every waking moment—and sometimes during the hours when you should be sleeping.

I'm still learning that difference.

When I hear the word endurance, my mind immediately goes to CrossFit. Endurance isn't standing still. It isn't passive. It's continuing to move forward when you're tired and when the finish line isn't yet visible.

I've started to realize that the same thing applies here.

Endurance is showing up for another appointment when you're tired of repeating your story.

It's completing another round of testing when you hoped the previous round would provide answers.

It's gathering paperwork, responding to emails, and coordinating communication between providers.

It's remaining professional even when you're frustrated.

It's continuing to do your job while carrying uncertainties that most people can't see.

One lesson I keep coming back to is that uncertainty doesn't have to steal every moment of peace.

I still don't have all the answers.

Not every test has been completed.

Not every appointment has happened.

Not every possible treatment option has been discussed.

The outcome of my accommodation request remains uncertain.

And yet life continues.

There are still moments of joy. There are still friends, family, prayer, workouts, laughter, and reasons to be grateful. There are still reminders that life is bigger than this challenge.

That doesn't mean ignoring legitimate concerns. It simply means refusing to let uncertainty become the only story being told.

If this experience has taught me anything, it's that endurance often looks much smaller than we imagine.

Sometimes it isn't a dramatic act of courage.

Sometimes it's just attending the next appointment.

Completing the next form.

Sending the next email.

Having the next conversation.

Trusting that answers will come, even if they arrive more slowly than we'd like.

This week, my focus is simple. I'm reaching out to all of my providers and trying to coordinate a consistent message for my accommodation case. My hope is that they can clearly communicate that returning to a hybrid work environment should not be required until the remaining testing, appointments, and discussions have been completed and an informed treatment plan can be established.

I'm also meeting with my manager and hoping to gain his support, along with that of my medical team, to continue working remotely while we work through the remaining testing and determine the best path forward.

For now, I'm trying to focus on the next step instead of the entire staircase.

The testing will eventually be completed.

The conversations will eventually happen.

The path forward will become clearer.

Until then, endurance will have to be enough.

Resources:

YouVersion Bible App - Scripture Image

Copilot: SEO Optimization

When It All Started Connecting: Decluttering, GLP-1, and a Healthier Home

Lately, I’ve been noticing a pattern—and I don’t think it’s a coincidence.

What started as a few separate things in my life has slowly started weaving together into one bigger lesson. Cleaning out boxes. Paying attention to how my environment makes me feel. Learning how to eat differently on this GLP-1 journey.

At first, they didn’t seem connected at all.

But now? I can’t unsee it.

It started while Jon was hiking Philmont. While he was out carrying only what he needed across miles of trail, I was at home surrounded by… cardboard boxes. So many boxes. The kind that sit for years, quietly collecting dust, holding “important things” that never get touched.

I didn’t throw anything out that wasn’t mine. That wasn’t the goal.

But I did start replacing those old cardboard boxes with sealed totes. One by one. Slowly.

And in the process, I found myself cleaning some of the dustiest areas of our home.

Here’s the part that stopped me in my tracks:
I didn’t get sick.

That felt significant.

Because just weeks before, being in the office for less than an hour would leave me dealing with drainage, sneezing, coughing, and that foggy, can’t-focus feeling I’ve come to recognize all too well. And yet at home, doing actual physical work—stirring up dust, breaking down boxes—I was completely fine.

If you’ve been following along on Santini Serenity, you already know why that stood out to me.

Our environments matter.

Not just in obvious ways, but in subtle ones too—what we store things in, how long we keep them, what’s sitting unseen in corners of our homes. Cardboard vs. sealed storage suddenly didn’t feel like just an organizing preference—it felt like part of a bigger picture.

And at the same time all of this was happening, I’ve been walking through my GLP-1 journey.

Another area where I’ve had to slow way down.

Eating isn’t automatic anymore. I can’t rush through meals like I used to. I have to pause, pay attention, and actually ask myself if I’m still hungry. Sometimes I stop mid-bite and realize… I’m done.

That’s new for me.

But here’s what’s interesting:
It feels a lot like what’s happening in my home.

Less excess.
More awareness.
More intentional choices.

Whether it’s what I’m storing in my house or what I’m putting into my body, I’m realizing how much of life I used to run on autopilot.

And I think that’s what this season is really about.

Not perfection. Not extremes.
Just learning to pause and reset.

This verse keeps coming back to me:

“Better one handful with tranquility than two handfuls with toil and chasing after the wind.”
— Ecclesiastes 4:6

One handful.

Not overflowing closets.
Not overfilled plates.
Not pushing past limits just because that’s what I’ve always done.

Just… enough.

Enough space to breathe in my home.
Enough awareness to listen to my body.
Enough peace to not feel like I have to carry everything at once.

It’s funny how it all came together—cardboard boxes, air quality, eating habits, and a hiking trip in New Mexico. But somehow, they all pointed me to the same truth:

Less really can be more.

More peace.
More clarity.
More health.

And I’m still learning. Slowly.

But for the first time in a long time, that pace feels exactly right. 

Learning to Slow Down (and Actually Listen to My Body)

Lately, I’ve been realizing something I didn’t expect when I started this GLP-1 journey.

It’s not just about eating less.
It’s about learning to slow down.

For so long, I didn’t think much about how I was eating—just that I was busy, moving fast, and grabbing food when I could. Meals were rushed, distracted, or sometimes just automatic. And honestly, I don’t know that I was ever really paying attention to what my body needed… or when it had already had enough.

Now? I don’t really have a choice.

Everything has slowed down.

My appetite is different. My cues are different. And sometimes I have to pause mid-meal and ask myself, “Am I actually still hungry, or am I just eating because this is what I’ve always done?”

That pause is new for me.

And if I’m being honest, it’s not always comfortable.

Because slowing down doesn’t just apply to food—it spills over into everything. My pace, my habits, even my thoughts. It’s like I’m being gently forced into a reset… learning to fuel my body without overfilling it, and learning that “enough” is actually enough.

This verse keeps coming to mind in the middle of it all:

“So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.”
— 1 Corinthians 10:31

I’ve read it before, but I don’t think I’ve ever applied it this literally.

Eating with intention.
Pausing with purpose.
Being mindful instead of mindless.

This season feels less like a diet and more like an invitation—to be present, to care for my body differently, and to stop pushing past the signals I used to ignore.

I’m also realizing that “fueling my body” doesn’t mean restricting or obsessing. It means finding balance. It means choosing foods that nourish me, but also respecting when my body says, “that’s enough.”

And sometimes? It means putting the fork down even when there’s still food on the plate.

That’s a shift.

But it’s a good one.

Just like with the other things I’ve been working through on Santini Serenity—whether it’s creating a healthier home environment or decluttering physical space—this feels like another layer of the same lesson:

Less excess. More awareness. More intention.

I’m not rushing through this.
I’m not chasing perfection.

I’m just learning… slowly.

And honestly? That might be exactly what my body needed all along.

Resources:

Scripture: YouVersion Bible App

A huge "thank you" to Coach Amber at Steadfast for timely posts on under fueling and her continued suggestions of higher protein meals.  Also, thank you to the coaches who worked with me to extra scale recent workouts when I showed up instead of canceling because I wanted to move but needed less volume or other adjustments.

Trading Cardboard for Clarity (While He Was Hiking Philmont)

While Jon was out hiking the rugged trails of Philmont in New Mexico—carrying only what he needed on his back—I found myself on a very different kind of trek here at home.

Mine involved cardboard boxes.

You know the ones… stacked in closets, tucked into corners, quietly collecting dust and “important things” we haven’t touched in years. With him gone, I decided it was the perfect time to start cleaning and organizing—but with one important boundary: I didn’t throw out any of Jon’s stuff.

This wasn’t about purging. It was about stewarding our space better.

So instead of tossing things, I focused on replacing all those worn, dusty cardboard boxes with sealed totes. It seemed like a small shift, but as I worked, I realized it was actually a pretty meaningful one.

Cardboard, especially older boxes, holds moisture, dust, and who-knows-what-else. It breaks down over time and becomes a perfect hiding place for allergens. From a “sick building” perspective—the kind I’ve written about here on Santini Serenity—it’s kind of the perfect storm.

And yet, here’s what stood out to me:

Even while I was cleaning some of the dustiest areas of the house, I didn’t get sick.

That felt significant.

Since the end of May, I’ve been working remotely because of allergy and sinus issues I was experiencing at the Kinnear office on my hybrid days. It wouldn’t take long—often less than an hour—before the symptoms would hit: drainage, sneezing, coughing, and this overwhelming inability to focus, even when I was just sitting at my desk doing normal office work.

But at home, it was a completely different story.

I was doing physical work—unpacking boxes, breaking them down, stirring up dust in places that hadn’t been touched in a while—and still, nothing. No flare-ups. No fog. No spiral of symptoms.

That contrast was hard to ignore, especially in light of everything I’ve been sharing about sick building environments on Santini Serenity.

It made me realize that this isn’t just about how I feel—it’s about what I’m exposed to.

And in the middle of all that cleaning and swapping out cardboard for totes, I could sense it:

There was a noticeable shift.

As I swapped out box after box, the space started to feel lighter—not just physically, but mentally too. Clear bins replaced crumbling cardboard. Stacks became systems. Hidden messes became visible and manageable.

And in the middle of it, this verse came to mind:

“For God is not a God of disorder but of peace.”
— 1 Corinthians 14:33

It’s such a simple truth, but it landed differently in that moment.

Disorder isn’t just inconvenient—it can quietly steal peace. And while clutter might not seem like a big deal, it can contribute to both mental overwhelm and physical discomfort when it affects the health of our home environment.

This ties right back to what I’ve been exploring on the blog:
Our buildings—our homes—have an impact on our well-being. And sometimes the issue isn’t just hidden toxins or air systems… but the everyday materials and habits we overlook.

For me, this was a reminder that:

• what we store matters
• how we store it matters
• and what we allow to accumulate can affect more than just appearances

While Jon was out carrying only the essentials across miles of trail, I was learning my own version of that lesson at home.

Less cardboard. More intention.
Less hidden dust. More breathable space.
Less chaos. More peace.

And maybe that’s part of creating a healthier home—not just fixing what’s obviously broken, but slowly replacing what no longer serves us… one box at a time.

Resources:

Scripture:  YouVersion Bible App

Note that I did box up some of my own items to donate and that upon returning from Philmont, Jon cleared out 20+ polo shirts from his closet.  We donate our items to Good Life Ministries who has a convenient 24/7 accessible donation center in Plain City on West Avenue near the Shell Station.  

Holding Pain and Joy Together: Centering Prayer, Letting Go, and Finding Clarity in Uncertain Times

In these past few reflections—wrestling with Centering Prayer, learning to let go in the midst of uncertainty, and finding clarity again (even something as tangible as cleaner air and a clearer mind)—a quiet thread has been emerging.

It’s the thread of release.

Of letting go, not once, but over and over again. Of discovering that peace isn’t found by escaping life’s challenges, but by learning how to remain present within them.

It’s in that space that these words from Br. David Steindl-Rast feel especially meaningful:

“If we shut our hearts to the pain of the world our celebrations become superficial. If we let that pain overwhelm our hope, we are lost in the dark. Tears in which pain and joy flow together do justice to life in its fullness.”

There was honesty in Learning to Let Go: Wrestling with Centering Prayer—the kind of honesty that admits how difficult it is to sit still, to release control, and to surrender the constant movement of thoughts. That wrestling is not a failure of prayer; it is part of it. When we enter into silence, we don’t just find stillness—we encounter everything we’ve been carrying beneath the surface. Anxiety, distraction, resistance, even unrecognized grief begins to rise. Letting go becomes less of a single decision and more of a returning, again and again, to a willingness to release.

In Centering Prayer in Real Life, that inner practice met the unpredictability of everyday life—workplace concerns, uncertainty, the tension of not knowing what comes next. This is where the balance Br. David describes becomes real. It would be easy to shut down, to push through and pretend everything is fine, but that kind of denial thins out our joy until it becomes superficial. It would also be easy to let uncertainty take over completely, draining hope and leaving only heaviness. Instead, there has been a quieter, more courageous path—staying open. Allowing concern to exist without letting it define everything. Returning to prayer not as escape, but as re-centering.

Then came Clarity, Air Quality, and Getting My Brain Back, where there is a palpable sense of relief. Anyone who has experienced mental fog or environmental strain understands how profound it is when clarity returns. It feels like grace—unexpected, undeserved, but deeply welcomed. Yet even this clarity ties back into the same unfolding journey. It wasn’t forced into being; it emerged alongside release. As something shifted physically, something also softened internally. Space opened.

Looking across these moments together, it becomes clear that life is not one thing or another. It is not struggle or peace, uncertainty or clarity, pain or joy. It is both. Centering Prayer gently teaches us to sit within that tension without trying to resolve it too quickly. Thoughts come and go. Emotions rise and fall. Moments of frustration sit beside moments of stillness. And if we allow it, something deeper begins to take shape.

This is where the quote finds its fullest expression—tears where pain and joy flow together. The frustration of distraction sits alongside the quiet return to presence. The weight of uncertainty coexists with a steady, underlying hope. The fog of overwhelm gives way, at times, to clarity that feels like a gift. None of these cancel the others out. Together, they form a fuller picture of what it means to be alive.

What has been unfolding across these reflections isn’t just a practice of prayer, but a way of living. It is the courage to stay present instead of numbing out, to let go without knowing the outcome, to receive moments of clarity without trying to control them, and to hold both struggle and peace without needing immediate resolution. It is not polished or perfect, but it is real.

And maybe that is exactly where we are meant to be—in lives that aren’t simplified into easy categories, but are held gently in their complexity. Lives where hope is not the absence of difficulty, but the presence of something steady beneath it. Lives where even our tears can carry both sorrow and gratitude at once.

Resources:

Br. David Steindl-Rast Quote from grateful.org

Scripture Image - YouVersion

Update: Clarity, Air Quality, and Getting My Brain Back

I wanted to share an update following my recent posts about what I believed might be Sick Building Syndrome and the impact it’s been having on my health and work.

After environmental testing, the EHS (Environmental Health & Safety) results came back indicating that air quality levels were within acceptable ranges. While that was reassuring from a compliance standpoint, it didn’t fully explain how I had been feeling.

What has made a difference, though, is time and distance.

I’ve now been working remotely for about three weeks—and the change has been dramatic.

Physically, I feel fantastic. The lingering fatigue and mental fog I had been struggling with have essentially lifted. Mentally, it’s like a switch flipped: my focus, energy, and clarity have all returned in full force.

What’s been most telling is the shift in my work itself.

I’ve been diving into Splunk again, and not just maintaining things—but improving them in ways I simply wasn’t capable of while I was feeling off. I’m making meaningful updates to dashboards and reports, revisiting logic, refining visualizations, and uncovering opportunities I hadn’t even considered before. It’s a level of creativity and productivity that had been noticeably absent—and I didn’t fully realize how much until it came back.

Whether the root cause was environmental, physiological, or some combination, the takeaway for me is clear: how we feel directly shapes how we think, and how we perform. When something is off, even subtly, it can have a bigger impact than we realize.

For now, I’m focused on maintaining this momentum, staying attentive to what my body is telling me, and continuing to build on the progress I’ve been able to make since stepping away.

More to come as I keep observing and learning.

Resources:

YouVersion: Scripture Image

Copilot: SEO optimization

Centering Prayer in Real Life: Letting Go Amid Workplace Concerns and Uncertainty

Lately I’ve been thinking about how different parts of life—especially workplace stress and my faith—intersect in ways I didn’t expect.

If you’ve been following along, you know I’ve been writing about the concerns I’ve experienced with our office environment—the dust, the air quality issues, and the uncomfortable feeling that something just isn’t right. I’ve also shared my experience with the EHS testing that, in many ways, raised as many questions as it answered, along with what I’ve been learning about possible sick building syndrome symptoms. More recently, I’ve talked about the process of requesting a remote accommodation and trying to advocate for my health.

None of that has fully resolved yet, and sitting in that kind of uncertainty has been challenging.

At the same time, I’ve been reading Open Mind, Open Heart by Thomas Keating and trying to understand centering prayer. I’ll be honest—I don’t fully grasp it yet, especially how it applies in the middle of stressful situations like work.

But I’m starting to see that maybe these things aren’t separate.

In my work situation, there’s this constant undercurrent of tension. Waiting. Wondering if concerns are being taken seriously. Trying to make sense of information and determine what is “normal” versus what feels off in my own body. It’s easy to get caught in a loop of overthinking—replaying conversations, analyzing details, searching for clarity.

If I’m really honest, a lot of that comes back to control. Wanting answers. Wanting resolution. Wanting things to feel settled and certain.

And that’s exactly where centering prayer has started to challenge me.

The idea of letting go—not chasing every thought, not needing to resolve every question immediately—feels almost opposite to how I’ve been approaching everything else. In centering prayer, the invitation is simple but not easy: notice the thought, and gently let it go. Come back to stillness.

I’m realizing just how hard that is for me, especially when the thoughts feel justified. These aren’t random distractions—these are real concerns about health, environment, and what feels like my ability to function well day-to-day.

Letting go doesn’t mean ignoring those concerns. It doesn’t mean I stop advocating for myself or asking questions. What it changes is the internal posture I bring into those situations.

Instead of being driven entirely by urgency and anxiety, there’s an invitation to hold things a little more loosely.

That’s new for me.

I’m slowly learning that I can continue to pursue answers and take action where needed, while also recognizing that not everything is within my control—and not everything has to be solved immediately for me to experience a small measure of peace.

Reading Keating’s book, I keep coming back to the idea that something deeper is happening beneath the surface, even when I can’t see it or understand it. That applies to prayer—but I’m beginning to think it applies to this season of life too.

Maybe growth isn’t always something I can measure right away.
Maybe clarity doesn’t always come on my timeline.
Maybe being in an uncertain work environment doesn’t mean everything is broken—it might mean I’m still in the middle of the process.

That process isn’t easy. It includes real stress, real questions, and situations that still feel unresolved. But it also includes something quieter—learning, very slowly, how to sit with uncertainty without letting it take over completely.

I’m reminded of Psalm 46:10:
“Be still, and know that I am God.”

That stillness doesn’t come naturally to me—especially when I feel like something needs to be fixed. But I’m beginning to understand that stillness isn’t about having everything figured out. It’s about choosing, even briefly, to release the need to control every outcome.

So this is where I am right now:

Still asking questions.
Still advocating for my health and what I need.
Still walking through conversations and uncertainties.

But also beginning to practice letting go—just a little sooner than I usually would.

Even if it’s only for a few moments at a time.

If you’ve been following this journey—from the office environment concerns, to the EHS testing, to exploring sick building syndrome, to navigating a remote accommodation request—you know this hasn’t been a straight or simple path.

And if any part of this resonates with you—whether it’s dealing with workplace stress, advocating for your health, or trying to find peace in an uncertain situation—you’re not alone in that.

I’d really value hearing your experience. Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments, or explore the earlier posts if you’re walking through something similar.

Resources:

Sweeping Up Dust to Detect Emerging Viruses

YouVersion Bible App - Scripture Image

Related blog posts on this Journey:

https://santiniserenity.blogspot.com/2026/05/workplace-health-update-continuing.html

https://santiniserenity.blogspot.com/2026/05/workplace-health-update-personal-note.html

https://santiniserenity.blogspot.com/2026/03/when-office-makes-you-sick-recognizing.html

Learning to Let Go: Wrestling with Centering Prayer

Lately I’ve been reading Open Mind, Open Heart by Thomas Keating, and I have to admit—it’s both really interesting and a little hard to wrap my head around. I keep feeling like I’m almost understanding it, but not quite. And maybe that’s okay.

Centering prayer is described as something you don’t really do, but something you consent to. That alone feels different from how I’ve always thought about prayer.

Most of my life, prayer has been active—talking, thinking, reflecting, asking. Even when I’m quiet, my mind is usually full of words. But this way of praying invites something else entirely. Less doing, more being. Less effort, more letting go.

In the book, Keating talks a lot about releasing thoughts instead of getting caught up in them. Not pushing them away or getting frustrated, but just gently returning to a sacred word. It sounds simple enough, but in reality, I’m finding it kind of difficult.

My mind really doesn’t want to be still. It jumps around constantly—planning things, replaying conversations, coming up with random thoughts I didn’t even know were there. And when I notice it happening, my instinct is to either get annoyed or try harder to “fix” it.

One thing that’s been surprisingly challenging is the idea that there isn’t really a way to measure success here. It’s not about feeling peaceful or focused or like I’ve “had a good prayer.” Even when I feel distracted the whole time, that doesn’t mean I’ve failed.

That’s a hard shift.

I’m so used to wanting to know if I’m doing something right or getting better at it. But this kind of prayer doesn’t seem to work that way. It’s more about showing up and being willing—just sitting there and consenting to God’s presence, even when I don’t feel anything happening.

Keating talks about how something deeper is going on beneath the surface, even if we can’t notice it. I think that’s where some trust comes in. Trust that the silence isn’t empty. That letting go isn’t pointless. That God is still there, even when I feel distracted or unsure.

I don’t think I fully understand that yet. But I’m starting to sense that I don’t have to.

Maybe part of this is accepting that I won’t grasp it all right away. That it’s not just something to think about, but something to slowly grow into. So for now, I’m trying to approach it with a bit more openness and a little less pressure.

Just sitting quietly for a few minutes. Picking a simple word. Letting go when I notice myself drifting. And then doing that again…and again.

If you’re exploring centering prayer too and it feels confusing or frustrating at times, you’re definitely not alone. I’m right there in it.

I may not fully understand what I’m doing—but I think I’m still showing up. And maybe that counts for more than I realize.

Resources:

Related Blog Post: Quieting Your Mind: Tips for Centering Prayer

YouVersion - Scripture Image

Workplace Health Update: Continuing the Journey

I wanted to share a brief follow-up to my earlier note regarding the allergy and sinus challenges I’ve been experiencing in my workspace.

Since my last update, I’ve continued working closely with Ohio State’s Integrated Disability Accommodation team through HR, and I’m currently on an interim remote work arrangement while we identify appropriate next steps. I’m grateful for the flexibility and support during this time as I prioritize my health.

When at the office last week, I did not observe meaningful progress on the deeper cleaning that had been discussed. I requested cleaning at the beginning of March 2026.  However, Environmental Health & Safety (EHS) has continued their assessment, and one notable finding was that the sprinkler heads were heavily coated with cobwebs and dust—conditions that require professional maintenance and reinforce the need for a more thorough environmental response.

While this process has included some setbacks, it has also reinforced the importance of speaking up, staying engaged, and trusting the process even when progress feels slow. I’m continuing to work collaboratively with HR, EHS, and Facilities toward solutions that support a safe and healthy workspace.

A verse that continues to encourage me in this season is Psalm 34:14: “Turn from evil and do good; seek peace and pursue it.” For me, that has meant remaining steady, advocating with care, and continuing to pursue a healthier environment—not just for myself, but for others who share the space.

In the meantime, I'm grateful that I feel well simply being away from the dust and debris at the office.  A friend asked about my GLP1 energy levels and with the unwellness and fatigue after being at the office breathing in the dusty air, I feel so tired that I cannot really say if my energy has leveled out.  

Workplace Health Update: A Personal Note

Over the past several weeks, I’ve been navigating ongoing allergy and sinus challenges that seem connected to the indoor environment in my workspace. It’s been a learning experience—both in listening more closely to my health needs and in advocating for a healthier work setting.

I’m grateful to be working with Ohio State’s Environmental Health & Safety (EHS) team, who have conducted air quality testing to better understand the environment. I’ve also partnered with OSU Human Resources through the Integrated Disability Accommodation process to ensure I have the right support in place. In addition, Facilities has been responsive in coordinating a more thorough cleaning of the space, which I deeply appreciate.

This process has reminded me of the importance of persistence, patience, and community. As it says in Galatians 6:9, “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” That encouragement has stayed with me as I continue working through next steps.

Thankful for the collaboration across teams and hopeful for continued progress toward a healthier, more comfortable workspace for everyone.

Resources:

YouVersion - Scripture Image

Blog Post:  When the Office Makes You Sick

How Can Such a Cute Cat Have That Much Attitude?

If you live with a torbie, you’ve probably asked yourself how a cat that cute can have that much attitude. Yes, I have asking it a lot recently.

The answer is torbitude: the natural state of torbies everywhere. Torbitude is the unshakable confidence that things should be done a certain way—and the deep emotional response when they are not. Dinner will always be late. Pets will be perfect until they’re suddenly wrong. Doors being closed is a personal insult.

Torbies are extra cute, which is honestly misleading marketing. Their soft fur and speckled faces suggest sweetness, but inside is a tiny supervisor monitoring your performance. The side‑eye is strong, the opinions are stronger, and the tail tells you everything you need to know (mostly that you should stop what you’re doing).

The good news is that torbitude usually comes with intelligence, curiosity, and big feelings. These cats care. A lot. About fairness. About routine. About how you breathed near them just now. Once you accept that you are not the boss but rather enthusiastic support staff, torbitude becomes part of the charm—and living with a torbie becomes endlessly entertaining. 😼 

We love our cat Patty even with her moments of attitude!

When the Noise Gets Loud: A Quiet Truth About Social Unrest

There’s a heaviness in the air when the world feels divided.

You can sense it in conversations that end too quickly, in headlines that never seem to soften, in the way people brace themselves before speaking their truth. Social unrest doesn’t just live in the streets or on screens—it seeps into homes, relationships, and the quiet corners of our hearts.

And if you’re feeling overwhelmed by it all, you’re not alone.

Because underneath the arguments, the protests, the opinions, and the anger… there is something deeply human going on. There is pain. There is fear. There is a longing to be seen, heard, and valued.

That part often gets lost.

We’ve become so quick to defend our stance that we forget to understand someone else’s story. So quick to speak that we forget to listen. So quick to label that we forget people are more than the loudest moment we see from them.

And yet—here’s the truth that doesn’t get enough attention:

Most people aren’t fighting because they love conflict. They’re fighting because something inside them hurts.

That doesn’t excuse harm. It doesn’t justify cruelty. But it does remind us that behind every raised voice is a lived experience we may never fully understand.

Social unrest exposes cracks—but it also reveals what matters.

It shows us where trust has been broken.
Where justice feels delayed.
Where voices have gone unheard for too long.

But here’s the part that might feel uncomfortable:

We can’t heal division while feeding it.

You don’t create peace by dehumanizing someone else.
You don’t build understanding by refusing to hear anything outside your own perspective.
And you don’t move forward by pretending the problem doesn’t exist.

Real change asks more of us.

It asks us to hold tension without immediately turning it into war.
To stay curious when it would be easier to shut down.
To speak truth—but not lose compassion in the process.

Because empathy isn’t weakness. It’s discipline.

It’s choosing to remain human in moments that try to strip that away.

And maybe that’s the quiet rebellion the world actually needs right now—not louder arguments, but deeper understanding. Not performative outrage, but intentional connection. Not winning every conversation, but refusing to lose our humanity in the process.

So if everything feels loud and fractured, consider this your pause:

You don’t have to match the chaos to make an impact.

Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do…
is be the person who listens when others shout,
who seeks truth instead of victory,
and who refuses to forget that every issue involves real people.

Because at the end of the day, no movement, no message, no moment—

is worth more than our ability to still see each other as human.

Resources:

ChatGPT for SEO optimization

YouVersion Bible App - scripture image

Brief Catchup Blog related to Goals and Challenges

Hello!  I'm so glad you stopped by my blog.  I'm Jodi - Aside from blogging, I enjoy Crossfit, kayaking, hiking/walking, reading and whatever time I can get with my busy husband Jon. This blog will be catching everyone up on some of the goals and challenges of 2026.

In January, I wrote about starting GLP and 5K training. A friend at the gym put together a team for our gym and my original goal was to run/walk it.  However, between the nausea from GLP1, perimenopause challenges, and just feeling "blah" running training did not happen.  However, I was not the only one who walked the 5K.  It was a beautiful morning spent with friends supporting the Ronald McDonald House.  I also wanted to note that I am down ten pounds since January. This is the first time in years that I've had sustainable weight loss.  

The "blah" feeling has been related to my allergies which flared up with increased time spent at the Columbus office. My schedule is supposed to be hybrid with three days in my home office and two days at our Columbus location. My blog about sick building syndrome goes into more detail but, in short, our building has not been cleaned well for the last year to year and a half due to a change in cleaning personnel. I have worked with our facilities manager who has been working with the property management company to insure vacuuming, dusting, and cleaning of surfaces outside of the bathrooms resumes. I have a personal air purifier on my desk and uncovered a filter issue which I've fixed and I run the purifier on medium all the time.  I also started a natural nasal spray that doesn't burn my nose plus I'm using a blue and red light therapy devices in my nose. When I went into the office this past Tuesday, I only experienced mild stuffiness and not the struggle to breath, stuffiness, and exhaustion that I've experienced previously.  I will also say that I put my office environmental challenges on my YouVersion prayer list.  A little divine intervention never hurts. 

The first two and a half months of 2026 were very stressful.  I work with some challenging individuals.  Personalities aside, the issue has been accountability.  Despite not feeling my best in between days at the Columbus office, I worked my tail off laying groundwork to help guide the team toward accountability.  My husband has been going through his own stress as well.  What we did not know, until it was too late, is that our cat Patty was absorbing our stress. Patty was showing signs of urinary distress and when we started seeing blood in her urine, we knew it was time to get her to the vet.  She is doing well now and is on special food, both wet and dry, from Royal Canin.  Knowing that I was part of the problem, I began doubling up on meditation.  I do a morning session before work and I have been doing bedtime mediation music which helps calm me.

The work I put in laying the foundation for accountability for my coworkers is working.  For the first time in years, I took a vacation! I enjoyed a bus trip visiting the islands of Georgia. While I do take vacation days here and there, it is generally a day of self-care appointments like a haircut and massage which are fantastic but not the same as taking an extended period of time away from any offices and laptops.

Our culture celebrates hustle, stress, and being busy 24x7 but our minds and bodies were not made to sustain constantly being in "flight or fight."  Our ancestors "flight or flight" kicked in if they had to hustle from a bear that entered their camp or while they were gathering food.  Today, we're a culture of toxic productivity. I am not saying that we should become lazy; rather, we need to strike a balance between giving our all to our career and taking rest to recharge our bodily systems.

Thank you again for stopping by my blog. I hope this post encourages you.

Jodi

Resources:

I linked to other blog posts with the blog post itself so that you can read the detailed stories.

I wanted share the two products I started using this year for my allergies.

Beekeeper's Natural Nasal Spray from Amazon

The red and blue light therapy device I bought is the WZU Red Light Nasal Care Device which is no longer available on Amazon.  However, there a similar devices available if you search for the product that I mentioned.  

ChatGPT - SEO optimization

YouVersion Bible App - Scripture Image

Rest Is Not Failure: A Gentle Word About Toxic Productivity

There is a quiet pressure many of us carry—an unspoken belief that our worth is measured by how much we produce. If we pause, slow down, or say “not today,” guilt creeps in. We feel behind, lazy, or disposable. This is the subtle harm of toxic productivity: it convinces us that rest is something we must earn, rather than something we are designed to need.

Toxic productivity doesn’t always look dramatic. Often, it wears a respectable face. It looks like answering emails late at night “just to stay ahead.” It sounds like ignoring your body’s signals because someone else “has it worse.” It tells us that exhaustion is a badge of honor—and that stopping is weakness.

But constant output is not the same as meaningful purpose.

Even God did not design life to be a nonstop grind.

In Ecclesiastes 3:13 (KJV) we are reminded:

“And also that every man should eat and drink, and enjoy the good of all his labour, it is the gift of God.”

Notice what’s included in the gift: enjoyment. Not endless striving. Not depletion. Not proving ourselves. Enjoyment, nourishment, rest.

Even sacred work has a boundary. Rest is not a reward for being productive enough—it is woven into the rhythm of life itself.

If you are tired, you are not failing. If you need to slow down, you are not weak. If you feel burned out, it does not mean you lack discipline—it means you are human.

You are allowed to step back.
You are allowed to say “this is enough for today.”
You are allowed to be valuable even when you are not producing.

Rest does not erase purpose—it restores it.

May you give yourself the same grace you would so freely give to others. And may you remember that your worth has never been dependent on your output.

Resources:

SEO optimization by Copilot

Scripture by YouVersion Bible App

I Finally Took a Vacation: Why Rest Is Essential for Your Mind, Body, and Spirit

After many years of staying home and taking staycations or little 3 days trips in Ohio, I finally took a real vacation!  I knew that I had to take my trip before June or after August due to my husband having several scout trips planned for the summer. 

I had taken a bus trip in the early 2000s so I searched for the company that I used that time and did not find it.  Instead I found Anderson Coach & Travel  so I decided to look at the trips they offered.  I decided upon the 8 day Island Hopping Tour in Georgia with stops in Kentucky and the Carolinas.

“The Lord keeps you from all harm and watches over your life. The Lord keeps watch over you as you come and go, both now and forever.” Psalm 121:7-8

I packed the best that I could for the trip using accuweather.com and the forecasts for our destinations.  I live in Ohio and we have a joke that if you don't like the weather, just wait a minute.  I wasn't sure if Georgia would be like this or not. 

The tour was sold out so it was a packed bus and my pickup point was the last stop.  We pick our seats in advance.  I like to sit near the front and I was paired with a really nice lady named Janice.  We had plenty of time to get to know each other with the hours of travel ahead of us. We hit it off and hung out together for the duration of the trip from early morning breakfasts to stopping in shops to find souvenirs.  At dinner one night, someone asked if we were mother and daughter.  It just so happens that Janice reminds me of my late mother with her friendly and fun personality.  

Our bus driver Craig and our tour director Barb were absolutely fantastic.  I don't like driving and I do a lot of planning for my paid job so being able to buy a trip where someone does the driving and takes care of the details is perfect for me. Craig deserves a gold star for navigating Atlanta and Charlotte traffic which were both brutal.  Oh, Craig & Barb also surprised us with stops at not just one but two Buc-ees! 

We had a good mix of people on our trip.  A majority were retirees enjoying their life after work. There were several people who had health challenges requiring use of canes or other mobility devices. Janice and I were usually among the first to board the bus. Having the aisle seat, I helped people either holding a bag or cane as they used the handrails the climb the steps to board the bus. Our bus driver did his best to drop off or park to minimize extra walking for those with walking challenges.

The weather was great for the majority of the trip with sun and warm temperatures. Two days were chilly, windy, and cloudy and coincided with stops on St. Simon Island and Jekyll Island.  We had indoor activities, for the most part, on St. Simon.  On Jekyll Island, it started to mist when it was time for our boat ride to see the dolphins. The weather was better at home that day but I got to see dolphins where I was! Our evening in Jekyll Island was supposed to culminate with dinner and shopping at a beach village similar to Easton Towne Center in Columbus.  By that time, it was pouring rain and even the hardcore shoppers didn't want to shop. Everyone was cold, tired, and ready to go back to the hotel.  I opted to buy food from the little market at the hotel while others gathered at the hotel bar over drinks and a menu for a local pizza place.  

Eight days went by quickly and I was back home.  My husband picked me up and filled me in on the routine he and Patty established while I was away.  After her illness, our cat is now on Royal Canin Urinary S/O calming food, both wet and dry.  Jon had to go back to his scout event. After a long day on the bus, I was ready for bed where Patty joined me for the night.

I had no idea how much I needed this vacation until I was on it.  I was super stressed out at work before my trip and I finally relaxed.  I decided to make a few changes to my home routine to give myself more time before work or other activities in the morning but getting up 10 minutes earlier.  My first day back at work, I stayed relaxed and calm even during an outage near the end of my shift. For the most part, my workers stepped up and were accountable. 

Anderson is starting to release trips for 2027 and my plan is to find one and take it!  If it works out, Janice and I have talked about traveling together.  I am so blessed to have seen God's beauty He created in the United States and to have pictures to remember it by.

Resources:

SEO Optimization using ChatGPT.

Links to Going on Faith and other Santini Serenity Blog posts within the post.

How Stress Affects Your Cat’s Health: Patty’s Story and What We Learned

For the past few weeks, our sweet cat Patty hasn’t been herself—and it’s been a bit of an emotional rollercoaster.

It started with what seemed like a simple urinary infection. We took her to the vet, got antibiotics, and felt relieved when her symptoms cleared up pretty quickly. During that first visit, though, the vet noticed excess glucose in her urine and mentioned the possibility of diabetes. Naturally, that worried us, so we went back the following week for bloodwork… only to find out everything looked completely normal. A huge sigh of relief.

Then came the curveball.

About a week later, Patty’s symptoms returned, and we were back at the vet again—this time for a longer stay and more extensive testing. That’s when we got the real answer: urinary crystals. Tiny, sharp crystals that make going to the bathroom incredibly painful—like passing shards of glass. Hearing that explained the blood in her urine and her obvious discomfort, but it didn’t make it any easier to process.

Now she’s on another round of antibiotics, a special calming diet, and temporary medication to help her relax while her body heals.

And here’s the part that really made us stop and think…

The vet mentioned stress.

Stress? Patty? Our laid-back, easygoing girl? It didn’t seem to add up at first. But the more I sat with it, the more it made sense.

We tend to think of stress as something personal—something that lives quietly inside us as we juggle responsibilities, health issues, and the general weight of life. But what I’ve come to realize is that stress doesn’t always stay contained. It spills over. It shifts the energy in our homes in subtle ways we don’t always notice.

And our pets? They notice.

Cats, especially, are incredibly intuitive. They pick up on changes in tone, routine, and even the unspoken tension we carry. Looking back, I had been dealing with my own health challenges related to environmental issues at work, and while I may not have said much out loud, the stress was there. And somehow, Patty felt it too.

A stressed human can unintentionally create a stressed home.

Maybe it shows up in small ways—less playtime, a disrupted routine, a little less patience at the end of a long day. To us, those moments might seem insignificant. But to a cat, they can feel like instability. And when cats feel unsettled, they communicate the only way they know how—through behavior and, sometimes, through physical symptoms.

What looked like a medical issue alone may have had an emotional layer we didn’t expect.

The good news? This connection works both ways.

Just as our stress can affect them, our calm can comfort them. Slowing down. Sitting quietly together. Keeping routines predictable. Offering affection without expecting anything in return. Even taking better care of ourselves can create a sense of safety for them.

One of my favorite moments each day is still the simplest one—sitting down and feeling Patty curl up in my lap. It’s grounding, for both of us.

This whole experience has been eye-opening—not just emotionally, but financially, too. And while I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, it’s been a powerful reminder for Jon and me.

Taking care of ourselves isn’t selfish. It’s part of taking care of everything—and everyone—we love.

Patty doesn’t need us to be perfect. She just needs us to be present, aware, and gentle.

And maybe… we need that for ourselves, too.

Resources:

Scripture Image:  YouVersion Bible App

Copilot M365 & ChatGPT - SEO optimization

When the Office Makes You Sick: Recognizing the Signs of Sick Building Syndrome

I debated whether or not to write about this. It feels vulnerable to admit you’re not feeling well in a place you’re supposed to simply “power through.” But if sharing my experience helps even one person pause and say, “Wait… maybe it’s not just me,” then it’s worth it.

Since we returned to a hybrid schedule at the Columbus office, I’ve noticed a pattern. Every shift I work there, I don’t feel well afterward. Headaches. Fatigue. Just an overall sense of feeling off.

There was extensive remodeling done, including drywall work, and the dust has felt never-ending. The best cleaning lady we ever had took another job, and while I wipe down my own desk and even bought a small air purifier for my space, I can only control so much. If dust isn’t being removed throughout the building — through proper dusting, vacuuming, and ventilation — it lingers. It circulates. It settles… and then rises again.

In full transparency, my home environment isn’t perfect either. But I do my best. And I notice I feel different there.

Then there’s the water issue. One day I filled my water bottle at the filling station and the water tasted like dirt. Not slightly off — noticeably earthy. The water in the building is often brown. You can see it when washing your hands and even in the toilet bowls before anything else is added. I now use a filtered water bottle, but I know I’m not drinking nearly enough while I’m at the office. At home, we have a whole-house purification system and filtered refrigerator water, so I’m used to clean, clear drinking water. It’s hard to ignore the difference.

For a while, I questioned myself. Was it stress? Allergies? Just getting older? But I started learning more about something called Sick Building Syndrome.

Sick Building Syndrome (SBS) describes a pattern where people experience headaches, fatigue, irritated eyes or throat, difficulty concentrating, or general malaise that improves once they leave a particular building. There isn’t one single diagnosable illness attached to it. It’s more about environmental stressors — especially indoor air quality — that affect people over time.

And here’s what struck me: dusty environments and water issues are often quieter contributors.

Dust isn’t just “dirt.” After remodeling, drywall particles and fine particulate matter can linger in the air if not thoroughly cleaned and properly ventilated. Dust can carry allergens, mold spores, and chemical residues from building materials. When it’s continually recirculated through HVAC systems, people breathe it in all day long.

Water issues can add another layer. Discolored or contaminated water may point to plumbing problems, sediment, or corrosion. Moisture problems in buildings can also create conditions where mold or bacteria grow — even if you can’t immediately see it. Sometimes the first sign isn’t visible damage. It’s people not feeling well.

What makes this so frustrating is that the symptoms are easy to dismiss. They’re vague. Non-specific. You start to question yourself.

But when the pattern is consistent — when you feel noticeably better once you leave — that matters.

This isn’t about blame. It’s not about being dramatic. It’s about recognizing that the spaces we spend hours in every day impact our bodies. Air quality, dust control, water quality, ventilation — these aren’t cosmetic building issues. They affect energy levels, clarity, hydration, and overall well-being.

If you’ve been feeling “off” in a specific environment, I gently encourage you to pay attention to patterns. Notice when symptoms improve. Advocate kindly but clearly. Protect your health in the ways you can — whether that’s using filtration, staying hydrated, or raising concerns.

At the end of the day, buildings are meant to shelter and support us — not quietly wear us down.

If sharing this helps someone feel less alone or prompts a needed conversation, then writing it was worth it.

Resources:

ChatGPT - SEO optimization and details about SBS

YouVersion - Scripture Image

The Wisdom of Accountability: Guiding Others Toward Responsibility

In our most recent Plain City Writing Group meeting, we were given a writing prompt to write a relationship scene.  I hope you enjoy this scene with Wanda, the WAF project manager.

Wanda has worked very hard over the last three years as the project manager for the Web Application Firewall (WAF) initiative.  Unfortunately, her coworkers don't share the same work ethic and aren't very supportive.

The WAF team sees it as Wanda's responsibility to manage end user tickets from "cradle to grave" which often includes opening tickets although her coworkers have the ability to open tickets as well.  The WAF admin is particularly finicky and wants her to "spoon feed" reports to him, convey his work notes to the customer instead of using "additional comments" to interact directly with the end user, and perform all follow-up to confirm any actions taken to remediate the WAF block fixed the customer issue. There are also times when he'll request emergency meetings or bring up concerns that require Wanda to write business justification reports to present before the WAF committee for review and ruling.

At the urging of her department director, Wanda worked with the team who manages the ticketing system to build a specific request form that end users, or WAF team members, can use to submit WAF issues.  The ticketing team coded in directions for the WAF admin as a reminder to "use additional comments if you need further information from the end user."  This request form recently went into production.  Wanda updated documentation previously written for the WAF team on how to open a WAF ticket to reflect how to use this new request form.  Wanda wrote a document that was reviewed by the communications team and began working on how to get it distributed to the consortia members.  It was decided to shorten the communication so that it can be included in the next edition of the consortia newsletter.  

Wanda's director asked her to work with the WAF Admin to have the error messages that customers receive if their activity is blocked updated to include the link to the new request form.  Since access to WAF is locked down, Wanda cannot make these updates herself.  The WAF admin has ghosted her. Wow, even him throwing a hissy fit that changing the blocking message requires a vote by the WAF committee would have been better than ghosting. 

Honestly, Wanda expected resistance and pushback from the WAF Admin and WAF team at some point. in this journey.  While the WAF request form is meant to provide a better user experience for the customer, it also makes opening WAF issues easier for WAF team members as well.  All members of the WAF team should be held accountable, not just Wanda. She is also pushing the envelope with the coded instructions reminding the WAF Admin how to communicate directly with the end user.  After three years of transcribing the WAF Admin's work notes for the customer, scheduling emergency meetings, writing business justifications when he threw a hissy fit and being belittled in front of the WAF team, she's had enough. Supporting WAF should not be entirely on her shoulders!

Wanda has the wisdom to know she cannot change people but will stand her ground by holding her coworkers accountable.  She will not continue to spoon feed team members who have access to the same resources as her.  The customers (end users) have access to this new request form; hopefully, the consortia newsletter blurb serves to educate them about this improved user experience. 

Will the WAF Admin change the blocking message as requested?  Will he throw a fit and require that it a vote by the WAF team?  We will see what the week ahead has in store.

Resources:

Writing Prompt Courtesy of Anja, leader of the Plain City Writing Group

Scripture Image from YouVersion Bible App

SEO Optimization by ChatGPT

When Life Is Hard: Choosing Gratitude Through Faith and Challenges

There are seasons in life when gratitude doesn’t come easily.

When we feel worn down physically, stretched emotionally, or uncertain spiritually, the idea of being thankful can feel distant—almost out of reach. In those moments, we’re not thinking about blessings… we’re simply trying to get through the day.

And that’s okay.

Over the past several weeks, I found myself in one of those seasons. Work stress was high. Sleep was inconsistent. My body felt run down—and eventually, that caught up with me in the form of illness.

Even as I began to feel better, it seemed like one challenge led right into another. A warning light in my vehicle. An unexpected repair. A series of small but draining moments that made everything feel just a little heavier.

It would have been easy to focus only on what was going wrong.

But somewhere in the middle of it all, a quiet truth began to rise to the surface:

Gratitude isn’t something we wait to feel.
It’s something we choose to practice.

“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.”
— Psalm 46:1 (NIV)

Difficult seasons have a way of narrowing our view.

When we’re overwhelmed or hurting, our focus naturally shifts toward what’s missing, what’s broken, or what feels uncertain. Even small setbacks can feel overwhelming when we’re already running on empty.

Gratitude doesn’t come naturally in those moments—and it’s not supposed to.

We’re human. We feel deeply. We carry stress, fear, frustration, and fatigue.

But being human also means we have a choice in how we respond.

Not a denial of what’s happening.
Not pretending everything is fine.
But a quiet shift in perspective.

Looking back, I can now see things I couldn’t fully appreciate in the moment:

• My illness, while frustrating, was short-lived
• I remained safe through my car issues and repair
• A kind stranger stepped in to help when I needed it
• My husband was there to support me without hesitation
• Friends offered encouragement and help along the way

None of these were dramatic, life-changing moments.

But they were real. And they mattered.

Gratitude in hard seasons isn’t about pretending everything is okay.

It’s about staying open—even when it would be easier to close yourself off.

It’s about recognizing that even in the middle of challenges, there are still moments of grace, provision, and care.

It’s about choosing not to let your heart harden.

Gratitude becomes something deeper than a feeling in these moments.

It becomes:

• A practice when emotions feel unreliable
• A discipline when life feels uncertain
• An act of faith when answers aren’t clear

It’s the decision to look for light—even when darkness feels easier to see.

To notice the small blessings—even when the big ones haven’t arrived.

To remain open to hope—even when life feels heavy.

If you find yourself in a season like this right now, I want to remind you:

You don’t have to feel grateful to begin practicing gratitude.

Start small.

Notice one thing.
Then another.

Hold onto those moments—not to ignore your struggles, but to anchor yourself in truth.

Because even in difficult seasons…

There is still something to be thankful for.

Resources:

Quoted Scripture Psalm 46:1

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