Signing my Oblate commitment—one joyful yes at a time
My home monastery has a newly promoted caretaker.
I’m officially a professed Oblate! (And yes, I am the only caretaker—no competition here.)
Signing my Oblate commitment—one joyful yes at a time
After 14 months of study with the Sisters at Benet Hill Monastery, I stood in the chapel in Colorado Springs alongside seven other beautiful souls and made a sacred commitment to live according to the Rule of St. Benedict, —right in the middle of my real, everyday life. Not in a religious community, but at my kitchen table, on quiet walks, and in every small space where love can live.
If the word Oblate is new to you, it simply means being spiritually connected to a monastic community while continuing to live in the world. It’s a path rooted in prayer, service, and spiritual rhythm—open to people of all faiths and backgrounds. In fact, the eight of us who journeyed through the program came from very different traditions, which made our shared experience all the more rich and meaningful.
Meet my fellow Oblates! What a gift to journey with this beautiful group
When the Sisters asked each of us to give a short speech during the profession ceremony, I panicked a little—how do you sum up 14 months of spiritual growth in three minutes? But then I remembered: I already had. Every paper I’d written for class, every quiet moment I’d captured, had found its way into my blog posts. I like to think St. Benedict would’ve appreciated the repurposing—there’s wisdom in efficiency, after all.
What I chose to share that day is really the heart of this journey: learning to listen with the ear of my heart. Those words open the Rule of St. Benedict, and they’ve become a daily invitation to slow down, be still, and let God speak—not just in the obvious moments, but in the small ones too.
This path has taught me that I am seen. I am loved. And I am called.
Called to be present
Called to be a vessel
Called to be a Sacred Doorway—a Hope Broker—for others
For me, ministry doesn’t happen in church buildings or conference stages. It begins right at home. In my kitchen, where aluminum trays passed down from my mother carry food made with love. Those trays come with stories, laughter, sometimes tears—and always love. These small, sacred moments have taught me that stewardship and hospitality aren’t tasks. They’re ways of being.
But before I could offer that presence to others, I had to offer it to myself.
Through injury and grief, through the quiet work of healing and prayer, I began to hear something new. A name. A word. Joy. God whispered it into the silence, and it became a guidepost for my life. Joy isn’t about always being cheerful. It’s deeper than that. It’s knowing that love lives in me, even when life is messy. Especially when it’s messy.
Cherished blessing
So here I am, stepping into this new chapter with a joyful yes. A yes to prayer. A yes to service. A yes to listening deeply and living fully. This isn’t about being perfect. It’s about being present—wherever I am, with whoever is in front of me.
I’m so grateful to the Sisters of Benet Hill for creating space for seekers like me—people who don’t always fit neatly into boxes, but who know there’s something sacred calling them forward.
The world is aching for connection. And I believe the smallest acts—offering a meal, listening without fixing, asking someone how their soul is—can change everything.
As St. Benedict reminds us, “Always we begin again.” This is my new beginning. And if you’re wondering what might be next for you, maybe this is your invitation too.
If you’re feeling called to deepen your spiritual practices or just want someone to walk with you for a while, I’d love to be that companion.
So please—all are welcome. No appointment necessary.
Come on over. I’ll bake you some cookies and serve them on aluminum trays.
From my heart to yours,
Until next time,
Raechal