On the Wonder Beneath Our Feet

A little more of my story and why we need a wonder that is wild.

As we enter week two of a cultural landscape I barely recognize, my personal world is increasingly getting packed into boxes for an accelerated move north.

Photo by Hans Veth on Unsplash

It feels like keeping my footing has turned into an exercise of trying to tap dance my way through an obstacle course. Anyone else? Just me?

Let’s just say, I don’t spend time on social media for funsies these days.

Give me a forest path and a yummy poetry book any day of the week.

But I do spend targeted time on various platforms to listen. So I might better understand.

In South Sudan, we had bush talk. Because I lived in the local community and was a part of a Sudanese team, our project often knew things before some NGO channels did. We also had local UN offices we’d check in with for OAG “Other Armed Group” reports before we’d travel any place out of town.

Without that set up, I now use various social platforms to listen to the pulse of what’s going on around me. But only for very limited time periods for very specific reasons.

And there is so much rancor right now.

The algorithms fuel it. Some of it is understandable. But still disturbing.

Research has shown rage can make content go viral faster than any other emotion. But, depending on the study, joy and awe give anger a run for its money.

In times like these, there is a critical need for safe places that cultivate awe and joy. If you are reading these words, it is my deep hope that this space might become one of them for you.

But that doesn’t mean ignoring the hard stuff.

In this current climate, where everything is politicized, on edge, and raw, people are reacting like they are walking on jagged glass.

And many people are walking on the shards of broken dreams, shattered illusions, and uprooted lives right now.

The occupational hazard of being a memoir-driven writer is I write from my lived experience. Even when that experience is raw.

Seeking beauty doesn’t mean we ignore the things that are broken. In fact, it can be beauty itself that heals and fuses the pieces together with gold.

Wonder is a pathway through the storm, not a denial of its waves.

A Little More of My Story

Sharing anything vulnerable this feels risky in this environment. But I will never knowingly ask of you or invite you into something I do not do myself.

So here we go. Some of you know my background, but many of you do not.

I spent 20 years working in and around the independent charismatic movement. I was a mid-level leader who spoke from stages and wrote books. The longer I was in these circles, the more unsettled I became by what I experienced there.

I was always pushing the envelope, hoping to change the system from within. Until, abusive power dynamics that looked nothing like the character and teachings we espoused left me no choice but to turn in my ordination and walk away a little over a decade ago.

That was the first time I lost everything in the last 10 years. 98% of my world— gone in a few days. I am vastly oversimplifying the story.

Suffice it to say, I exchanged increasingly high-control spiritual settings for years of sitting under trees, connecting with beautifully diverse people, and coming home to myself, my contemplative roots, and more recently, the faith community in which I was raised—the Episcopal Church.

Let me reiterate. Regardless of what you believe spiritually, you are welcome here.

I’m sharing my background because it gives me a unique perspective on the current moment we are in.

The movement I came out of was instrumental in laying the ideological groundwork for much of where the US is now. I have sat at tables and been in rooms with leaders that led the charge of what has come to be called by some Christian nationalism.

In fact, that was one of the primary dynamics that led to my exit.

Why am I Talking About This Now?

This is an inspirational space. A place that is a break from the hard.

That isn’t changing.

This space is nonpartisan by design and sometimes dogged discipline. You are not going to find me breaking down the latest hot political takes or telling you exactly how I voted. No cantankerous commentary on the news. Not my lane.

There are many places to find all that. Sometimes I feel like I’m tripping over all the opinions.

But as I write about wonder and offer practical ways to find more of it together, I will share relevant thoughts on cultural issues as they impact the landscape I’m walking through.

Here’s why… (Beyond me being a memoirist at my core. 😉)

Wonder does not exist in the future.

Nor does it exist at a certain destination we will reach one day, maybe, if we are fortunate.

Wonder isn’t about someday out there. It is about today, right here.

Wonder is now and near, quietly growing beneath our feet.

There is no context for finding wonder except for the landscape and the moment we are in.

And some moments are harder than others.

If we don’t share the hard with the hopeful, the awe with the sometimes awful, we’re settling for a wonder that is too tame to give us the fullness of the strength we need.

We need a wonder that is wild enough to look our worst case scenarios in the eye and pull us past them into joy.

I have big feelings about everything going on. So big, I don’t always trust myself to articulate them in helpful ways.

Many of you may have big feelings too. I want you to know that I see you.

You are not alone in 2025’s emotional rock tumbler.

I learned in Africa that the biggest predictor of radicalization was isolation and being cut off from community.

One of my deep concerns is the escalating rhetoric I hear. Words matter. Words shape worlds inside us and around us.

The stories we tell ourselves and one another lay the foundations of our lived experiences.

If we “other” people around us and treat them as less than human, we are embracing a story that opens the door for increasing schism, escalation, and radicalization.

That doesn’t mean we remain silent about things that matter or that we stop using our voices. It’s about how we use our voices.

YOU encourage me. It is such a joy to see you interacting and cheering for one another in the comments. Your kindness is a refuge for those who are hurting. That is a brave act.

Cultivating a practice of wonder rooted in curiosity, connection, courage, creativity, and compassion, isn’t just resistance to the things that disconnect and diminish—it’s building resilience in the middle of things that could tear us apart.

And we’ve never needed it more. You are so brave, my friends.

With all my love—

Michele