“The prairie dogs facing the sun is an image that returns to me from time to time, a reminder to turn towards the sun literally and metaphorically, to look out for “sun” in my day to day living. To look and see that which brings life.

In the midst of the hustle that is this season, I am reminded to see and not simply look. Or perhaps to look again. To slow down to take in the mystery of each day, to be in awe of my own humanity and that of others. To face the sun as the prairie dogs and pause to take in beauty and delight. As spoken in certain places, we often need fresh eyes to see the ordinary in such a way that the ordinary becomes extraordinary.”

This morning, as I prepared my son’s birthday breakfast, I was reminded of the traditions and rituals that ground us in our humanity and connect us to something greater. Growing up, my father showed his care by making breakfast every morning, believing a good day began with a full stomach. Today, I find myself continuing that tradition with my son, weaving his story into the communal liturgy of care that shaped me.

Reflecting on his birth in Mexico City, I am struck by how I was held by a village when my own plans unraveled. Women in the neighborhood welcomed us with love, their wisdom and rituals guiding me into motherhood. These moments of shared reliance and interconnection remind me that we are not made to go it alone. The liturgy of the “we” – traditions of care and presence – is sacred, teaching us to embody new postures of interdependence and hope for today’s challenges.