Life isn’t always clear.

Some days feel like a fog of routine—emails, errands, responsibilities.
Other days feel like chaos—unexpected setbacks, bad news, the weight of uncertainty.
And then there are the days that just feel… blah. Nothing major happens. Nothing stands out. The world keeps spinning, but it feels like you’re just moving through it.

Listening—true listening—is not just about sound.

It’s about attunement.

It’s about opening ourselves to the wisdom that is already here—in the people we love, in the world around us, in the silence we too often avoid.

And when we start listening, we realize:

The universe has been speaking to us all along.

We just needed to be quiet enough to hear it.

When I first stepped into the role of a hospice chaplain, I thought I knew what to expect.

I thought my job would be about providing comfort, offering prayers, and holding space for the dying.

And it is.

But what I didn’t expect was how much I would be changed.

How sitting with people in their final days would reshape the way I think about time, love, regret, and what really matters.

How witnessing death up close would make me more alive.

I’ve learned that hospice isn’t about death.

It’s about life—how we live, how we love, and what we carry with us in the end.

And these are the lessons I’m learning, one bedside conversation at a time.