About

I believe every life holds stories worth telling.

I write essays about the moments that shape us: memory, identity, family, caregiving, grief, hope, faith, wonder, and the quiet work of becoming more fully human.

For many years, I listened to people’s stories, first as a journalist and later as a hospital and hospice chaplain.

Those experiences taught me that the moments we often overlook—a conversation at a bedside, a family photograph tucked into a drawer, an ordinary afternoon that quietly changes everything—are often the ones that stay with us the longest.

The common thread through all of my work has been presence. Whether interviewing people as a journalist, sitting beside patients and families as a hospital and hospice chaplain, or writing essays today, I’ve learned that presence begins with listening.

I believe there is profound value in slowing down, paying attention, and listening with empathy. Doing so helps us notice what often goes unseen and witness the stories people carry.

Today, those experiences find their way into my personal essays and creative nonfiction.

My essays have appeared in CLOSLER, Mom Egg Review, Chicago Story Press, The Bangalore Review, The Ponder Review, Psyche, Rio Review, Humans of the World, Open Secrets, Braided Way Magazine, Hysteria Magazine, Old Lady Comedy, The Manifest Station, and other publications.

My essay “What They Don’t Tell You About Dying Alone” received a 2026 Pushcart Prize nomination.

I hold a Master of Divinity from Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary and am an MFA candidate in Creative Writing at Spalding University’s Naslund-Mann Graduate School of Writing.

I’m currently at work on my first memoir, The Goodbye Hours, about reinvention, vocation, discernment, grief, and the unexpected ways our lives keep asking us to begin again.

When I’m not writing, you’ll usually find me reading, walking along Lake Michigan, or spending time with my family. I believe paying attention is one of the deepest forms of love, and that the most memorable essays don’t simply tell stories. They invite us to notice our own lives more deeply.

I’m glad you’re here.