A river, three rocks, and a kiss—sometimes the smallest acts carry the most weight. We mark twenty-five years of marriage at Minnehaha Falls with a simple, handmade ritual and open a wider conversation about how ordinary people can create sacred time on purpose. From choosing stones to naming a trait, a memory, and a love, we show how tangible actions can honor the past, shape the present, and gently bend the future.

We also tell the story of a coach who lost his role overnight and needed closure he never got. So we met on the same field with friends, a notebook, and a fire. We shared stories, wrote truth, burned pain, and stood together in the dark. It wasn’t grand, but it was grounding—and it worked. You’ll hear why rituals often feel mysterious in the moment and make sense later, how embodiment helps the brain release what talk alone can’t, and why elements like water, fire, stone, and shared words can turn vague emotion into something we can actually move through.

If you’re carrying stress you can’t control, we offer a five-minute practice: write it down, tear it out, crumple it, trash it, and say out loud, I can’t control this. It’s not my business. If you’re honoring love, grief, or change, you’ll get practical ideas—pour water at a tree to mark loss, light a candle to close the day, keep a pocket stone to cue honesty, or walk a weekly path to reflect and reset. No mystique required, no perfect script—just presence, intention, and a willingness to step out of ordinary time.

If this resonates, share it with a friend who needs a gentle push toward closure or celebration. Subscribe for more reflections, leave a review to help others find the show, and tell us: what ritual will you create this week?

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A charcoal fire, the smell of fish, and a question that won’t let go: Do you love me? We walk the shoreline with Peter from the night of denial to a dawn of restoration, and we discover why Jesus asks three times—not to shame, but to heal, reframe, and entrust. The tension is familiar: there’s the self we intend to be and the self that shows up when fear hits. Instead of pretending the split isn’t there, we name it, then watch how grace composes something larger—like day three of creation, where separation becomes space for life.

We unpack how the miraculous catch opens Peter’s eyes, why the identical charcoal fire matters, and how trauma loses power when it’s spoken aloud. Each yes to “Do you love me?” turns into a concrete task: feed my sheep, tend my lambs. Service becomes the path out of shame’s loop. Along the way, we explore the Hebrew imagination of numbers—one, two, three—as a lens for unity, discord, and harmony that holds both without erasing either. This isn’t theory; it’s a map for everyday choices, from relationships to leadership to the way we show up for our neighbors.

We also turn toward our community and publicly commission Ben with five charges: receive unearned grace, see people with compassion, keep intimacy with God ahead of output, lead by serving, and extend forgiveness by raising others to lead. If your past feels like an anchor or your present feels like drift, this conversation offers a third way forward. Name what hurts. Answer the question. Then feed someone—literally, spiritually, practically. If this episode moves you, share it with a friend, subscribe for more, and leave a review with one tension you’re ready to name and transform.

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What if prayer didn’t feel like a performance, but a place to breathe? We’re sharing a three-part rhythm built around a single word—here—that makes space for presence, release, and direction. It starts with “Here I am,” a small, courageous act of showing up to God as we are. From there, we imagine the steady reply—“Here I am”—and rest in the reality that we are not alone. No fancy language, no spiritual gymnastics, just real presence that calms the noise and recenters our attention.

Next, we move to “Here, God—take this.” This is where honesty becomes freedom. We hand over the heavy things we pretend we can manage: fear we can’t shake, relationships on the edge, work anxiety, anger we keep feeding, private shame that won’t let go. Think of it as unclenching your hands so you can receive what actually heals. Ancient wisdom insists that confession isn’t a spectacle but a doorway; when our hands aren’t full of “my precious,” we can receive mercy, clarity, and strength.

Finally, we ask, “Where do we go from here?” Instead of waiting for a five-year plan, we listen for a right-sized next step—call a friend, make the appointment, apologize, apply, rest, try again. Curiosity becomes obedience in motion. We carry the question through the day: at the sink, on a walk, between emails. Over time, this simple cadence forms a life that’s attentive and lighter to carry, with choices that feel aligned rather than forced.

If you’ve ever wondered whether you’re praying “right,” this conversation lowers the bar and lifts the heart. Give the three H.E.R.E.s a try, then tell us what shifted for you—subscribe, share with a friend who needs some peace today, and leave a quick review to help others find their way here.

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