HeyJaredThoughts, Prayers and Art
Episcopal priest, spiritual director, author, and wellness coach offering grounded hope, honest faith, and soulful reflections for a weary world. Come here to breathe, be challenged, and remember who you are.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 14
- Latest publication
- Sep 30, 2026
- Audience
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- Earliest in this view
- Sep 13, 2026
Latest issues
When the Water Rises (opens the original)
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I am a little late getting to Good News Wednesday this week.Usually, by Tuesday afternoon, I have gathered all the stories, followed links, scribbled notes, and listened for the thread that might hold them together. This week came at me differently. The nor’easter rearranged more than the shoreline. It disrupted schedules, flooded streets, damaged businesses, and reminded those of us who live along the coast how quickly the familiar world can become uncertain.On the morning of the storm, I was h
When Hope Has No Names (opens the original)
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Last night, I finished reading the pastoral word from the House of Bishops with a heaviness I have struggled to shake. I’ve read the letter over and over again, and still I find myself longing.I wanted to receive it generously. So much so, I kept on looking. I know something of the burden carried by those entrusted with leadership in the Church. I know that bishops gather with responsibilities most of us never see, conversa
The Porch Light (opens the original)
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By the last week of September, the island changes its mind.You feel it before you can name it. The traffic thins. The air takes on a clean, salted edge it seems to keep only for those who stay. One by one the rental houses go dark. Outdoor showers are wrapped for winter, porch chairs are stacked and chained to the railings, and hand-lettered signs appear in the shop windows announcing shorter hours or a cheerful See You in May. All summer the island said yes to everyone: come in, stay late, brin
The Lemon Magnet (opens the original)
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Eli asked it over cereal, the way he asked most things, without looking up.“Dad, is the world going bad?”His father was at the counter in sweatpants and one sock, waiting on the coffee and thumbing through the morning: a shooting in a town he’d never heard of, a flood, a man at a podium shouting about another man shouting. Farther down was a photograph he scrolled past too fast and then made himself go back to: a father somewhere carrying a child out of the rubble. He turned the phone face down
Making Room (opens the original)
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I have been spending a great deal of time with boxes.Boxes stacked on top of boxes, some carefully labeled, others bearing only the fading handwriting of an earlier version of myself who apparently believed she would remember what “misc.” meant five years later. There are boxes filled with photographs, books, dishes, Christmas decorations, old papers, bits and pieces of homes that no longer exist in the form I remember them. Some have traveled with me through several moves. A few, I suspect, hav
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