I recently went on a trip to Mexico, traveling through four different cities with my mom’s church group. Originally, the trip was meant to be a way to spend time with my mom, who—before being diagnosed with cancer, used to travel with the group often. I’ve always been in awe of my mother. She’s a fiery Sagittarius woman who moves to the beat of her own drum, nothing ever stops her from seeking adventure and freedom. Honestly, my mom has traveled more than I have; she’s been all over the world, and I deeply admire that about her.

The church she attends organizes these trips every year, visiting different countries and continents, led by Father Roberto. A priest I’ve actually known since I was a little girl. He coordinates these pilgrimages for the local Latino community, many of whom might not otherwise have the opportunity, resources, or confidence to travel to foreign places. I think that’s such a beautiful and honorable thing to do. Thanks to him, my mom has visited Europe, the Middle East, and several Latin American countries, all through well-planned, safe, and spiritually guided trips. Most of the participants are retired, which makes sense since they have the time to travel. Father Roberto calls them pilgrimages rather than vacations, because the purpose isn’t simply to relax or sightsee—it’s to travel with devotion to God. The days are filled with prayer and visits to the most beautiful churches, learning about the history and spiritual impact of the regions we explore.

What I love about Father Roberto is that he’s such a cool priest. He has a serious, almost intimidating presence, but you can tell he’s filled with the Spirit. He speaks truth without fear, even if it makes people uncomfortable. His sermons always leave me in awe—he uses index cards covered corner to corner with notes, connecting the readings and drawing out the deeper lessons. He often says that as Christians, we’re called to live joyfully—that life is meant to be enjoyed, and that people will recognize us by the love we share. Living a spiritual life, he reminds us, isn’t about isolating ourselves or fearing sin—it’s about turning life itself into a prayer everywhere we go.

Anyway, my mom’s cancer is progressing, and they’ve given us a scary diagnosis. Since she wasn’t feeling strong enough for the trip, she encouraged me to go on the ten-day pilgrimage to Mexico. I was excited — it had been a long time since I’d had the chance to travel. So I joined a group of about forty people, mostly senior citizens. I was one of the youngest (and I’m not even that young!), but everyone kept feeding my delulus throughout the entire trip, asking me how I “eat up the years,” because they all thought I looked so young for my age, haha. Honestly, I’ve been told my whole life that I look young — even when I was young. I don’t really do anything special… maybe it’s just genetics?

I love being around older people, I find so much comfort in them and truly enjoy learning from their stories and wisdom. The experience turned out to be totally inspiring and wonderful. I genuinely had some of the most fun I’ve ever had in Mexico with this group of older folks. Of course, I wished my mom could have been there with me, but I was also quietly grateful for the chance to spend time on my own — to meet new people and explore a culture that felt both familiar and different from my own.

We started our journey in Mexico City and made our way all the way to Guadalajara, visiting churches and towns I probably never would have had the opportunity to explore on my own if someone hadn’t taken me there. Each morning began with prayer and singing, and Father Roberto made it a point to celebrate Mass at least once in every city we stayed in. We ate good food — though Father Roberto insisted we stay away from street food and only drink bottled water, warning us that our “American trained guts” would pay the price otherwise!

The trip also made me reflect on all the times I’ve traveled to Mexico—maybe a solid five times in my youth and how I never truly took the culture in. I had been to Mexico to party, to have fun, but looking back, each trip felt more exhausting than genuinely nourishing. I indulged in escapism, never once putting God in my peripheral view or taking time to thank Him for allowing me the opportunity to even be there.

During adoration, Catholics come before the Eucharist to pray, reflect, and simply be in the presence of Christ. The monstrance—a gold or ornate vessel with a glass window—holds and displays the consecrated Host for all to see. It’s often accompanied by silence, prayer, or soft music. Some people pray the Rosary, read Scripture, journal, or simply sit quietly in contemplation. It’s one of the most intimate and peaceful forms of prayer because Catholics believe they are literally in the presence of Jesus—not just remembering Him, but being with Him.

Anyway, I found myself in my free time going to the chapel and sitting in adoration, asking God to change my heart, to grant me His virtues of understanding and humility. This trip totally changed my perspective on how I live my life. Every day and every moment can be a source of prayer in everything that we do. Sometimes easier said than done.

I started going to adoration when I first moved back home after losing my job and feeling like a failure—like life wasn’t where I wanted it to be. I was raised Catholic and have always known of adoration and practiced it to some degree, but that time when I was feeling broken, something shifted in my experience with it. I’ve read in many spiritual books that prayer and adoration aren’t about trying to change yourself, but about sitting still and allowing God to change you.

During that period, when I was clearly being transitioned to a new chapter in my life that I was still resisting, I started to go to adoration almost every day to find solace in the heartbreak I was going through—in the heartbreak of feeling like a failure. I didn’t go because I was a “good Christian lady”; I went because I felt desperate for relief from the pain I felt inside. I would sit there for hours and cry to God: I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing with my life. Every time I try to progress, I end up heartbroken, betrayed, and unhappy. Slowly, in that grief, I felt God start to change me. The experience with adoration has transformed my pain into joy and clarity—clarity about how lost I had been.

In my youth all I wanted was to go out and be in the world, and figure it out on my own. Even when God would save me from my falls, I still wanted to have fun more than I wanted to be connected to Source. And He allowed me to for a while. But me being me, I have also always wanted a spiritual life. And as I’ve learned, you can’t do both—you can’t be in the world and want to live in true spiritual alignment. You have to choose one or the other.

When I moved back home, I felt like my life was over. I was a failure with no job, and I look back now at all the jobs I had and how I never valued them. I was never thankful for the opportunity. I was always for searching for the next thing, that would finally make me happy or fill me with purpose. When I was at adoration, after weeping to my nephew when he said, “Maybe San Diego isn’t where you’re supposed to be,” I surrendered. I said, “Okay, I’ll stop resisting. I accept whatever it is You want from me.” Within months, my mom got this life-changing diagnosis.

I remember applying for thousands of jobs, pushing my agenda, and thinking, This isn’t going to last long, and later having to surrender and be totally humbled to apply for retail positions. I remember when I got my job at Madewell. I went in with ego, thinking, I’m only going to be here for two months, then I’ll get the salary job. I thought I was too good for it—I was older, with so much experience. Duh, I was going to get what I wanted. But I kept going to adoration, asking God to change me.

By the fourth month of my job, with still no prospects for work, I was learning about St. Joseph the Worker, and God was teaching me humility at work—making work a daily prayer. Yes, money is necessary, but only focusing on that doesn’t give you purpose. He was teaching me how to have humility, to be grateful for every dollar that came into my life.

Before, when I was in San Diego, I had decent salaries, but it never felt enough. It always slipped through my fingers like water. Every time I paid a bill, I paid it with anxiety and worry. At Madewell, during the year and some months I worked there, I was only offered part-time hours—just a few days a week at minimum wage. Yet, I still had a roof over my head, food to eat, and even a little extra to spend on myself from time to time. God was purifying me, giving me context. All the anxieties I had back when I had “more” than I did then—and yet, here I was, with less, but still with plenty. I needed to learn gratitude. God teaches that work is sacred—that you’re never too good for any job or position, and you never know when you could end up in the place of someone you once looked down on.

When I was in adoration, I had a moment during meditation when it clicked: I’m here because my character is being developed, not because I’m being punished. Im being asked to trust Gods, will not mine. I started to make it a point to pray the St. Joseph Prayer of Workers before work instead of scoffing with pride, as I had in other jobs—to make my day a living prayer, to get along with my coworkers, and to be grateful for the experience. Slowly, the pride subsided, and the anxiety went down and my joy was rising.

I remember wanting a sales job because, in my mind, it sounded more lucrative. Even though I’m not money-driven, I understand that money is necessary, and I was looking for something that could help me not worry so much. The last interview I pursued out of my own will was for Yelp. I got to the second interview, and they had me listen to a cold call—it was their best salesperson convincing an older man who owned a pizza place to sign up for listings on their website. The older gentleman explained he couldn’t really afford it, that his business wasn’t doing that well and it wasn’t in his budget. The top sales Yelp guy, with his charismatic voice and convincing manner, tried to justify why paying $200 a month would “help grow” the man’s business.

I should have known the job wasn’t for me when they said you have to do math on the spot—I left that interview crying and defeated. The sales manager asked me, “What did you like about the call and why do you want to work at Yelp?” and I said, like a big derp, “Well, I love that we’re helping the older man’s business. I would love to be a source of help for someone—to do something beneficial, especially for someone who seems worried.” Little did I know, that wasn’t the answer he wanted. The guy goes, “WRONG. We want Yelp salespeople who want to make MONEY. Feelings and too much heart aren’t going to make you successful here. If you want to make money, you’ll thrive here.” Well, now I know they have a huge turnover rate—hardly anyone lasts there. (WONDER WHY.) You have to be an empty vessel to get to the top, jeeeze. My heart sank to my butt. I remember thinking, Damn, I guess Im dumb ass hell. Let’s just say I didn’t get the job. I felt so disheartened because, once again, I felt like a failure.

I went to adoration and surrendered to God. Okay, I get it. You don’t want me to seek any more jobs out of my own will. I’ll be at Madewell as long as You want me to be here. I’m done trying. I gave my pain back to God and finally realized—it was never going to be my plan that transpired anyway. Three months later, I got a LinkedIn message for a luxury retail sales position—all because of my experience at Madewell. At first, I thought it was a scam. I knew nothing about luxury retail sales, to be honest. I didn’t know if it could even be stable. My only experience had been in lower-end retail, which isn’t enough to sustain a life—but to my happy surprise, I discovered that luxury retail is a completely different world.

Anyway, the recruiter liked me, and I met the corporate team—they liked me too. The last step was meeting the sales manager of the boutique, and she scheduled my interview on the same day as the Feast of St. Joseph. I can’t even make this up. My mom was in El Salvador, and I told her, “Mom, I have a job interview for a sales job. I didn’t even look for it—it came to me—and my last interview is on the day of St. Joseph.” She said, “See, hija, he’s been preparing you.”

I say all this to say: adoration and forward movement on the spiritual path aren’t about pushing your own will, but allowing God to change you from the inside out as He aligns you with what’s best for you. As a spiritual person, the path God takes you on will rarely look like the one those you once related to are in . If you’re looking for grandiose ideas or external validation, you’ll constantly be disappointed, because we are called into humility. Sometimes God strips you of everything—just like Job, whose faith was tested—not so that you can receive more, but so that you can learn acceptance in every part of life. We are not promised more; we are taught to find peace in what is. I realize now He does listen—because I wanted a sales job, but I wasn’t allowing Him to be the director. I should have known that the Yelp man saying “If you want money blah blah” was my sign. Any job where something as shallow as money is the driving force will ultimately drain you and your soul.

Now, at my current job, do I think it’s the end-all-be-all? No. But I know that I’m fully there. God has blessed me with an amazing boss who inspires me—not just because she’s an incredible salesperson, but because she’s also a genuinely good person. We relate in so many ways beyond work. I remember once writing in my journal, “I hope my next boss is someone I truly look up to.” And God delivered exactly that. The first thing she told me during my interview was, “It’s okay if you don’t have sales experience. I can teach you that. I just need you to be teachable and kind.” She still says things to me now that remind me how far I’ve come. She says “blanca didnt want to be good at the job, she surprides her self by being a natural.” The anxiety of talking to strangers or forming relationships with elite women terrified me. But the job has slowly changed me, not only in confidence but in how I relate to people, how I look them in the eyes without blinking away, how I listen to their needs without shame about who I am.

I found a sales job that, yes, is about hitting goals and numbers, but not just about that. I find purpose in growing internally—in helping women feel confident in themselves because they’ve found the perfect outfit for their big board meeting or the speech they’ll be giving on TV. I can have heart in what I do while also learning teamwork and patience.

And yes, there are moments of triggers and growing pains with people, but every time I go to adoration and I give it to God, He transforms it.

Also, I don’t feel bad benefiting from these ladies’ spending—because, let’s be honest, they’re not worried about dropping $900 on a T-shirt. Like, hello! But having to lie to a little old Italian man who’s genuinely concerned about spending $200 a month? I CAN’t!

God continues to refine my character and give me clarity. Last year, around this time, I had been working on a creative project with a friend for about three years. In a moment of conflict—after I finally began setting boundaries—she decided to take our creative catalog and claim it entirely as her own. I mean, she literally blocked me and removed my access to all the systems I had used to create. What had once been a project between two friends helping each other slowly turned into me giving far more than I was receiving. I realized I was being drained of my creative ideas and thoughts, all while someone was subtly manipulating me and taking credit for my work, because, in my insecurity, I believed I needed to take on all the creative work. I was the one with the ideas, but she had the confidence I hadn’t yet built on my own. I felt so betrayed. How could she do that to me? I thought she was my friend.

Three years of episodes—almost like a healing journal—filled with everything I had created during those years, gone. I had poured so much time and effort into each one of them. But as painful as it was, I needed to grow up. I had to face the truth that some people simply do not respect me. They take and take, because I so freely give—until suddenly, I realize, wait a second…

I was allowing someone whose values clearly didn’t align with mine to benefit from me, all in the name of friendship. She liked that project because it made her seem less shallow—deep and introspective—while I loved genuinely creating from a place of vulnerability and truth.

I felt lucky to have a friend whom I thought was reciprocating a vision with me. Where she saw it as a fun little addition to her already established brand, I wanted seriousness, integrity, and mutual collaboration. But my overly gracious attitude made her believe I needed her in order to keep creating. She probably thought I would beg her to continue working with me, because I had been weak in most of my relationships. All people ever saw was this big dummy with no damn boundaries. I don’t know what she’s done with it or what became of it, and honestly, I don’t care to know. Because in a moment of clarity, I decided to cut this person off—completely.

I went to adoration and cried. I felt the pain deep in my gut. God, please take this away. I feel so hurt. I felt like I had given so much to this creative partnership, only to end up feeling used and discarded—a recurring theme with people from my old life. The next evening I was leaving work and there was a string of traffic. My car had been stuck where it was parked, waiting for the line of cars to move. A royal blue car pulled up beside me and stopped right in front of me. Its license plate read: Luke 6:27 and felt called to write it in my notes. Later when i got home, I opened my Bible to the verse on that young man’s car, and this is what came up:

“But to you who are listening I say: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.”

“If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners love those who love them. But love your enemies, do good to them, and lend to them without expecting to get anything back. Then your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High, because He is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.” — Luke 6:27–36

My mouth dropped open. It felt as if God Himself had spoken directly to me. I had been so angry—this person I thought was my friend had betrayed me. But God was telling me loud and clear: let it go.

Let go of the episodes. Let go of that project. It was always meant to be a catalyst—to spark the fire within you to create. Be grateful for the experience, forgive her, and let her have it. I had already started building my current blog, which I had purposely kept as my own—to finally create on my own terms. God was telling me, let her keep it. Don’t feel bitter or angry. Begin your journey anyway—even if no one believes in you or your content, even if you’re not popular, cool, or whatever the hell people think, just do it for you and your spark of light. The people from the previous chapter were never your audience to begin with.

Was it hard to do? Absolutely. But every time I felt angry, I would go to adoration, and the pain would slowly lift—until it no longer felt attached, until I no longer had it or the project as lingering thought. I trully feel at peace. I’ve grown so much creatively on my own this past year. Maybe not with a ton of attention, but I’ve touched on topics and created things I’m deeply proud of. I remember the first time I visited my “friends” in San Diego after being home for about a year and doing a lot of internal work. The first thing I did when I arrived was drink and escape reality—all in the name of “fun.” I was drained and zapped of energy by the end of the first day. By the end of that trip, I realized all I did was party. Thats all our values aligned on, was complete escapism.

Not long after that trip, my friend/former creative partner and I had a falling out. I think God was telling me, If I don’t take these people out of your life, you’re going to stay stuck—one foot in the world and one foot with Me. You need clarity and context. There was nothing wrong with where they are in life—it was just time for me to move forward. Sometimes God hardens people’s hearts because it’s the only way you’ll finally let go. He sends you signs, but when you resist committing fully to His path, He’ll make the exit so undeniable that you have no choice but to walk through it.

Now, a year later, while sitting in adoration, I realized that them leaving my life was part of God’s plan to change me—to align me with what I had been asking Him for in the first place. My trip to Mexico gave me so much clarity. It made me realize I had spent so much time escaping reality, that I had never truly been present. I had prioritized fun for so long that I didn’t even realize I wasn’t actually having any fun. What I felt among the people on my Mexico trip was joy—a joy that comes from inside your spirit, a joy that can’t be created unless you’re clear and connected to something higher. I laughed, I cried, I made friends, and I came home feeling rejuvenated from the experience—not drained or like I needed a vacation from my vacation.

I realized the full circle my life had made within a year. I feel more confident now—not because my life is suddenly perfect, but because I’ve found peace where I am. My life isn’t amazing in the eyes of the world. My mom is getting sicker, and I feel immense fear about what will happen once she’s gone. The responsibilities of her home and affairs are slowly falling into my hands, and sometimes panic rushes through me.

But even through the fear, I feel joy.

Someone asked me recently, “You have so much going on—how do you not seem stressed?” The answer is simple: God. My time in adoration. I give it all to Him. Some days I do get overwhelmed—I feel like I’m sinking—but then I cry to God and tell Him, help me, this load feels too heavy for me. And somehow, I feel light again.

My life is no longer “fabulous,” and I don’t have millions of friends, but I feel joy. And I’m grateful that, even though the process of God purifying me was painful—because I am stubborn and like to push my own will—everything is going to be okay. If you find that you can’t forgive those who have hurt you, give it to God. Tell Him, this hurts me; I feel the pain in my chest; why have they done this to me? Know that He can transform it. He can help you see the light when it feels like there is none.

When I find myself thinking about someone and wonder, why is this person still on my mind—they don’t care about me, I pray for them now. I say, God, I put this connection in Your hands. Do with it what You will. If I still feel pain, please help me transmute it and forgive them. I don’t want to hold on anymore. I pray for their peace and healing so they, too, may find peace. Maybe that person has no one who prays for them. And remember sometimes people come into your life to show you where you need to grow.

It reminds me of The Chosen, when Matthew is upset that Jesus chose Simon to be called Peter because Simon had been cruel to him. Jesus reminds Matthew that he, too, once hurt Peter and had never asked for forgiveness. He explains that asking for forgiveness isn’t just about the other person—it’s about allowing God to change you. There is no shame in being flawed—we all are—but we’re here to grow through those flaws, to be humbled by them, and to remember that we are all redeemable when we choose humility. It’s in our pride that we sin—when we refuse to allow courage to rise and say, “I’m sorry.” and mean it.

And even though you don’t have to keep them in your life if they’re harmful to you—it’s called boundaries—you can still forgive them and choose not to hold hate in your heart. Forgiveness is something God helps us come to, just as Jesus forgave us for condemning and misunderstanding His purpose.

Let them go in peace, and when their name comes to mind, pray for them. Maybe they truly have no one else who prays for their soul to heal. Let God change you as you work to become a more aware version of yourself, because we are all deeply flawed, and He’s working on all of us—guiding us back to Him and teaching us how to give our hearts fully.

My trip to Mexico gave me clarity and perspective. It deepened my love for adoration as I realized that, all this time, God has been changing me from the inside out. Sometimes you think adoration is going to make you feel some magical rush in the moment—until a year later, you look back and realize how differently you’ve been thinking and handling things than you once did. That’s when you understand that the real magic was happening within you all along.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you leave feeling a little more inspired.

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