deiflos

I’ve never been someone who stayed still for long. Ever since I was young, I’ve dabbled in everything that caught my interest—dancing, singing, playing instruments, drawing, painting, crocheting, even making jewelry. My tastes have always been wide and varied. From Taylor Swift to K-pop to the classics, I’ve always been drawn to the beauty and wonder in the world.

As I grew older, I learned to take those hobbies and interests and use them for something more—to glorify the Great Creator of it all. Because what better way to honor Him than by creating beauty in return? But in my eagerness to create for His kingdom, often, I get caught in the small things. Posting schedules, social media plans, making sure designs are just right. It feels like there’s always something to do. And most of the time, there’s too much to do.

Then, out of nowhere, came a sobering reminder. A few days ago, a friend passed away. He was young. It happened so suddenly. None of us saw it coming. The news stopped me in my tracks.

It’s so easy to get attached to this beautiful exciting world; it’s filled to the brim with things that make us want to stay. But it’s not forever. It’s only a passage—a short stop—on the way to our true home: Heaven. Mary’s Assumption reminds us of that truth. It’s not just a mystery to ponder; it’s a promise to cling to. It tells us our final destination is not here, no matter how beautiful this earth may be—it’s with God in glory. Our lives here are meant to be lived with eternity in mind.

And how sobering is that to anxious little me? If I miss a post by five minutes, does it really matter in the light of eternity? It’s good to aim for excellency, but if it’s at the cost of holy joy, is it really even worth it?

If you're Catholic, you know Jesus is the Lord. We profess this at every Mass, at the beginning of every Rosary. It’s a simple truth — one we’ve encountered at different points in our lives.

Some of you, like me, may have known this from a young age. I have vivid memories of fingers pointing toward the cross at church, telling the little me in her Sunday best, “That’s Jesus.” Others may have learned this later on in life.

Peter, James, and John first encountered Him by the Lake of Gennesaret. When the crowd pressed in on Jesus, He got into their boat to teach. Afterward, it was the miraculous catch of fish that led Peter to fall at His feet and say, “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.” And yet — despite this honest confession — Jesus still called them to follow.

And they did.

From that moment on, Peter, James, and John gave up their lives and followed Jesus. They traveled with Him as He fulfilled His mission: preaching the Word, healing the sick. They knew who Jesus was. They called Him Master. They dropped everything at His word. They followed Him wherever He went. They were even part of His inner circle, witnessing the raising of Jairus’ daughter and His agony in Gethsemane.

Throughout their journey, they saw countless signs of Jesus’ divinity — how He healed the sick, cast out demons, calmed storms, and even walked on water.

And yet, on the mountain of the Transfiguration, it still caught them by surprise.

I invite you to reflect on this today, friends.

Wherever you are in your spiritual journey, you can find yourself in the apostles. Maybe you’re in a season of full surrender, following Jesus wholeheartedly. Maybe you’re just meeting Him, still learning who He is. Wherever you are, ask yourself this:

Do I truly recognize Jesus as the God that He is? Do I believe in how greatly He can move in my life, if I fully surrender it to Him?

“Notice how the flowers grow. They do not toil or spin. But I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of them.” — Luke 12:27

I've always been drawn to this verse—perhaps because of my fascination with the quiet beauty of florals, or maybe because of the powerful truth it reveals: how the Lord sees us. In this verse, Jesus draws our attention to the flowers of the field—simple, meek, yet radiantly beautiful. They are still and splendor not because they try, but because they completely trust and surrender. As we reflect on this verse, here are five gentle lessons we can learn from flowers.

Trust in God’s Providence

Flowers don’t anxiously strive or stress. They do not work, plan, or control their growth. And yet, they bloom. We, too, are held in the loving embrace of a Father who knows our every need. When you feel the weight of uncertainty, look to the lilies of the field and remember: God is already providing. He knows when to water, when to prune, and when to simply let the sun gently fall.

Beauty Comes from Being, Not Doing

The beauty of a flower lies in its very existence. It doesn’t try to earn its petals or colors; it simply is what it was created to be. We are the same—our worth is not in what we do or how much we do, but in our identity as children of God. We are each uniquely made, and our value is rooted in being His beloved, not in our productivity.

Grace is Often Quiet and Unseen

Flowers grow slowly, silently, and often unnoticed at first. Before the bloom comes the hidden work of rooting and stretching. So it is with us: the deepest spiritual growth often happens in the quiet, unseen places of our hearts. Grace doesn’t always arrive with fireworks. More often, it shows up like morning dew — soft, subtle, nourishing.

Every Season Has Its Purpose

No flower blooms all year long. There are seasons of stillness, of budding, of full bloom, and of letting go. In the same way, our spiritual lives move through seasons. God works in us differently in each one. When things feel slow and sluggish, it doesn’t mean God has stopped working. It may simply be a season of resting and preparing for what’s to come.

We Are Clothed in God’s Beauty

🌸 Immaculate Heart of Mary 🌸

To begin this little garden of art, I entrust it to the tender and pure heart of our Blessed Mother.

August is dedicated to the Immaculate Heart of Mary — a heart full of love, pierced with sorrow, and always pointing us to Jesus.