Monday in the Octave of Easter

“They went away quickly from the tomb,
fearful yet overjoyed,
and ran to announce the news…”

It is a curious mixture—
fear and joy,
running and trembling,
touching and telling.

They clasp His feet—
and are immediately sent.

“Go and announce…”

Which suggests that resurrection
is not something to be possessed,
but proclaimed.

And I heard it before I saw it—
a low, persistent hum.

Not noise, exactly—
but activity.

Upon closer inspection,
the tree was alive
with bees.

Countless bees—
moving with purpose,
with urgency,
with something that looked suspiciously like joy.

They were not wandering.
They were working.

Drawn by something unseen—
ultraviolet patterns,
subtle signals,
a hidden richness in the flower.

And then I remembered:

When a bee finds such a place,
it does not keep the discovery to itself.

It returns.

And there—
in the quiet democracy of the hive—
it performs a dance.

A “waggle dance,” they call it.

A strange, almost comical motion—
and yet, one of the most precise acts of communication in nature.

Direction.
Distance.
Delight.

All conveyed
so that others may come and see.

And I thought—
with some discomfort—

that this is exactly
what I am meant to do.

For my daily Lectio Divina
is, in truth,
a kind of waggle dance.

A small, imperfect, perhaps even slightly ridiculous attempt
to announce
where I have found something good.

And yet—
how often I hesitate.

How often I analyze, refine, delay—
as though the message needed perfection
before proclamation.

But the women at the tomb
did not compose a statement.

They ran.

Fearful—
and overjoyed.

We prefer explanations
to exclamations.

We would rather dissect the flower
than dance about it.

And yet, the bee does not write a treatise.
It dances.

Because truth, when truly encountered,
demands expression
before it demands analysis.

The great scandal of Easter
is not merely that Christ is risen—
but that such a thing could be told
with joy.

The apostles do not begin as theologians—
they begin as witnesses.

And a witness, by nature,
must announce.

For what is seen
must be said.

You who send me
even as I am still trembling,

teach me to announce

Not perfectly—
but faithfully.

When I hesitate,
give me courage.

When I overthink,
give me simplicity.

When I am tempted to keep the joy to myself,
remind me that joy grows
only when shared.

Let my life—
in word and in action—
be a small proclamation
of Your presence.

And if my “dance” is awkward,
let it still point
to You.

Laudato si’ §6

Good News is not meant to remain hidden,
but to be lived and shared in community.

Today, I will:

Communion is the Diocese of Amarillo’s Centennial pillar for April
  • Share one word of encouragement or faith with someone else.
  • Speak openly about where I have found hope.
  • Walk synodally—recognizing that the journey of faith grows when it is shared.

For communion is not silent—
it is announced.

A lighthearted song about the natural rhythms of life—
reminding me that creation itself is always communicating,
always pointing beyond itself
to something greater.
A whimsical exploration of purpose and community—
revealing that even the smallest creature
has a role in sustaining something far larger than itself.
A reminder that every witness matters.
I want to share the latest episode of The Introverted Apostle — a podcast that has helped me revisit my own journey and see things in a different light.
This episode features Deacon Tino Frausto and it hits close to home for anyone who has ever thought:
“This isn’t my ministry… or my personality.” 😅
Deacon Tino’s story is a powerful reminder that God doesn’t wait for us to feel ready — He simply invites us to say yes. From wanting to stay behind the scenes to proclaiming the Gospel, his journey shows how grace often begins just outside our comfort zone.
Need a clean slate? We’ve got mercy for that. 🙏 In this episode, we unpack Divine Mercy Sunday, the life and mission of Saint Faustina, and why God never stops inviting us back…no matter how far we think we’ve gone. It’s a powerful mix of real stories and practical faith. Whether you’re all in or still figuring things out, this conversation brings clarity, encouragement, and a reminder that grace always has the final word — and that confession isn’t something to fear…it’s a gift. Plot twist: God’s mercy is undefeated. 🏆
Kick off your day with 5 minutes of faith! Revised Standard Version (RSV) translation New Testament: • Luke 6:27-36 • Matthew 18:21 Old Testament: • Proverbs 25:21-22 Catechism of the Catholic Church: • Paragraph 1970 • Paragraph 2263 Takeaways: • Saint Jerome taught that responding to someone’s wrongdoing with kindness can soften their heart, burn away their anger, and lead them to repentance. • When someone annoys you…like cutting you off in traffic…try praying for them instead of reacting in anger. • If people insult or mistreat you because of your faith, stay faithful and hopeful. Jesus promises that your reward in heaven will be great.
My Story
Photo used by permission of Douglas Kirkland/Corbis via Getty Images
Memorial in the Grotto of St. Mary’s Cathedral. The inscription says:
“In memory of the death of innocence of the victims of clergy sexual abuse. When innocence dies…a life stops. It is essential that we never forget.“
I was one of “the few” Bishop Zurek spoke of in this letter. He first posted it in August of 2019, and in response to my, “calling out all the more“, he kept reposting it atop the diocesan news page until December 11, 2019. There it remains to this day.
Fr. Ed Graff, brought here from Philadelphia by Bishop Matthiesen, was arrested in 2002 for sexually assaulting a minor and died later that year in jail. Despite the harm linked to his ministry, he was buried in an honored section of Llano Cemetery among our pioneering clergy — a decision that continues to wound survivors and raise hard questions for our diocese.
A tribute to Bishop Matthiesen—now a complex symbol in our diocesan history, erected by former priest John Salazar, whose later abuse conviction reminds us how painful chapters of the Church’s past must be faced honestly as we seek healing and communion.

While we recognize your thoughtful suggestion for a renewed dialogue on Bishop Matthiesen, the present circumstances do not present an opportunity for it. I think it would foster division not dialogue. We remain confident in God’s providence and hopeful for what the future may bring.

from a letter dated March 5, 2026

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