A Life Offered
Living the Camaldolese Benedictine Charism as a Lay Oblate
I am a Camaldolese Benedictine Oblate. Today, on the Feast Day of St. Romuald, I pause to reflect on how this ancient monastic path quietly but firmly shapes my life—amid family, vocation, and the ongoing pursuit of justice and peace.
I formally began my Oblate journey as a Postulant in 2015, after a weeklong immersion course at St. Andrew’s Abbey in Valyermo, California. During that time, Father Francis recognized the complexity of my lived experience—especially as a primary caregiver raising a child with disabilities (ADHD and ASD)—and referred me to Father Steve Coffee at the Monastery of the Risen Christ in San Luis Obispo, where I lived at the time. But the truth is, I have always been drawn to contemplation, even before I had language for it.
In 1998, I was part of the leadership team at Shelter Covenant Church in Pleasant Hill, California, when I was first introduced to Lectio Divina—a sacred practice of slow, prayerful reading of Scripture that invites deep listening to the voice of God. Rooted in Benedictine tradition, it unfolds in four movements: lectio (reading), meditatio (meditation), oratio (prayer), and contemplatio (contemplation), guiding the heart from words to encounter. More than study, Lectio Divina taught me that Scripture is meant not just to inform—but to transform.
That same year, during a 12-week study abroad in London, I traveled throughout the U.K. and found myself inexplicably drawn to Durham Cathedral. I sat in its sacred stillness for hours, letting silence become my teacher. That silence—and the contemplative longing it stirred—has remained with me ever since. It shaped my worldview, helped me navigate chaos, and grounded me as I grew into adulthood, marriage, and the complex journey of parenting a neurodiverse child.
Caring for my son has brought both beauty and intensity into my life. Neurodiversity is inherently disruptive of order, routine, and expectations—and I have learned to embrace solitude, not as escape, but as survival. When overstimulation takes over—through yelling, meltdowns, or sensory overload—I’ve cultivated the ability to withdraw inward, even in a room full of people. What looks like disengagement is often a sacred pause: a contemplative breath, a return to center.
As I renovated and reclaimed my late father’s 40-acre ranch—Kandler’s Shadow Ranch—I find myself daily challenged by a material chaos that mirrors internal ones I’ve already made peace with. Six thousand square feet of buildings packed full to a hoarder’s brim stands in stark contrast to the Benedictine value of balance. I am not a minimalist, nor am I a hoarder. Both extremes miss the mark. The Camaldolese way calls me instead to discernment: to keep what holds meaning, to release what clutters the soul. It is not about how much, but why.
My studies—first a master’s, now a Ph.D. (est. 2026) focuses on underrepresented voices in leadership—and my teaching at a university deeply rooted in global justice are not separate from this spiritual path. The Camaldolese charism, with its rhythm of solitude, community, and outreach, lives in each space I inhabit. My family, my classroom, and my writing are all vessels of the same vow.
Courageous Steps, the platform I created to honor transformative leadership and amplify the voices of those often unheard reflects my Oblate heart. It is a contemplative act made visible—an offering of story, scholarship, and solidarity. Through it, I engage in global conversation with leaders, parents, and change-makers navigating the liminal space between systems and soul. It is where silence becomes dialogue, and prayer becomes praxis.
Courageous Steps creates a place for shared insight and sacred listening. It is a quiet space in a noisy world, inviting others to live and lead with intention, curiosity, and compassion. Just as the Camaldolese charism calls for outreach grounded in stillness, Courageous Steps extends that same hospitality—not from a monastery cell, but in the digital commons, the classroom, the family table.
While my heart is drawn to interreligious dialogue and a global worldview, I often feel the dissonance between a life of contemplative balance and a culture shaped by urgency, consumption, and individualism. The Oblate path invites a deeper allegiance—to humility over certainty, to listening over dominance, to community over isolation. It teaches that the world is not something to conquer or fix, but something to be in relationship with.
My Camaldolese Benedictine Oblation embodies a global, contemplative posture. It moves gently but intentionally, offering space for shared wisdom, discernment, and presence across borders—of nation, of belief, of experience. It is not loud, but it is steady. It stands as an invitation to another way—one that echoes the centuries-old rhythm of ora et labora (prayer and work), made real through the daily, imperfect, sacred practice of a life fully offered.
Lectio Divina
