It’s been 100 days.

One hundred days since the white smoke rose over the Vatican and Pope Leo stepped onto the balcony as the first American pope.

And also—one hundred days since I started walking every single day and telling stories.

At first, it was just a fun idea: write a tiny story inspired by that seagull chick we saw during the conclave livestream. But something shifted. What began as a small creative spark turned into a daily ritual that changed my life.

Since then:

I’ve written 77 short stories.

I’ve drafted two entire books.

I’ve walked through woods, fields, cities, rain, and heatwaves.

I’ve preached sermons that feel more alive than ever.

And I’ve finally started to feel... grounded.

There’s something about walking that changes the way I think. It slows me down. It clears the noise. And it connects me—both to the world around me and the one within. When I run, I track my speed and heart rate. When I walk, I notice butterflies, sunflowers, gravel paths, ancient stories, and the voice of God.

Sometimes the walk leads to a homily. Sometimes to a podcast. Sometimes it becomes a story or an insight at 5:30 in the morning that I have to record before I can go back to sleep.

Other times, it’s just quiet. But never empty.

The past 100 days reminded me that I’m not here to run. I’m here to dwell. To walk with others. To follow a voice that says, “Come, follow me.” Even when it leads back into the fire.

If you’ve ever wondered what might happen if you showed up for your creative self—just a little bit—every day… this is your sign. Go for a walk. Tell a story. Share your world.

It might just become the beginning of a new one.