I can remember as a young child pondering in my mind if God created me to be a nun.

I’m not Catholic but I’ve always admired the life of nuns and monks (I’m not Buddhist either).

I’ve always been drawn to the slower life.

In my profession I see the extreme hurt so many carry. The scars of the world are real and deep. It is a privilege and honor to bear witness to those scars and to help others on their journey of healing.

The work can feel heavy.

And so, perhaps, my dream of starting a solitude retreat feels more needed with each passing day.

I am dreaming and longing of land, next to nothing but God’s country. Dreaming of a few yurts and THE121 where you can simply come.

In silence or in longing.

To talk or not.

Several times in my life, I have had the immense privilege of attending solitude retreats at a local convent. Each time, my visits have been truly impactful towards my walk.

I imagine a day where I could give that gift back to others. To those who are hurting, weary, tired and worn out.

To those who have been carrying more weight than one is meant to bare.

I can imagine a greeting of tea and a warm bed. Perhaps even a crazy cockapoo who may or may not be sleeping.

These are the longings of a tiny house girl who dreams of living an even simpler life and maybe…perhaps, inviting you into that life, even if it’s only for a moment or two.