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Growing up, I was always curious about identity and the meaning of my name as I perceived my siblings’ names carried rich stories that I didn’t have: Christa , named for Christa McCullough, the first teacher in space who died when my mother was a young educator. Marie , a middle name carried down many generations And my brother, the fifth in a line of Leonards , with a middle name the same as a great-grandfather. And then there was me— Rachel Jenay. A named I was mostly told

As February begins and we all begin to think and talk a little more about love, I’m reflecting on what it means to practice a love that doesn’t exclude you. The Bible calls us to “love your neighbor as yourself.” Notice the last part — as yourself  — highlighted for a reason. For many helpers, healers, and those called to serve, this is a cherished guiding principle. Yet, too often, we unconsciously live as if it says “love your neighbor instead of yourself.” That’s not what

As October fades and November arrives, I find myself breathing a little deeper. The air feels different… crisper, calmer, more honest somehow. Maybe it’s the soft shift from “spooky season” into something gentler. Or maybe it’s that November always calls me inward, inviting reflection on life, death, and everything in between. It’s my birthday—my personal new year! Every November, I feel both the weight and wonder of still being here. There have been seasons when that wasn’t

Spooky season is coming to its height as Halloween is almost here, and while the world dresses up in ghosts and cobwebs, I can’t help but think about the real  things that haunt us. Every October, the world turns its attention to what’s spooky such as ghosts, shadows, and things that go bump in the night. But beneath the costumes and candy, the season can hold  a deeper invitation: to face what’s been haunting us, and to reclaim the power that fear once held. As I meet more a

As the seasons shift and the air turns crisp, fall reminds us that release is part of growth. Nature models a truth that many helpers, healers, and heart-led leaders forget: letting go is not failure—it’s a sacred act of trust. The trees don’t hold on to what once nourished them. They let their leaves fall so they can conserve energy, root deeper, and prepare for what’s next. In our own lives, this rhythm invites reflection: What beliefs, roles, or responsibilities have I out