On the western façade of St. Sarkis Armenian Church in Dallas, there is a beautiful Armenian cross. From a distance, it looks like one single image. But when you step closer, you see that it is made of 1.5 million digitally-printed icons, each one representing a life lost in the Armenian Genocide of 1915. Every image is different. No two are the same. Each one carries its own detail, its own beauty, and its own sacred place within the cross. We are all like those small pieces

At the Heiligenkreuz Abbey (1133), a Cistercian monastery in the Vienna Woods of Austria. Our human existence can be compared to a book. Every day you are writing a page. Every decision becomes a sentence. Every prayer becomes a paragraph. Every act of kindness becomes a line that will never be erased. Your life is not random ink on paper. It is a story unfolding under the loving hand of God. Many people think this life here and now is the whole book. They see these years on

Before the Armenian Lord’s Prayer in the Church of the Pater Noster on the Mount of Olives, Jerusalem. We are living in heavy times. Wars. Rumors of wars. Images of suffering that stay in our minds long after we put our phones down. Countries are shaking. Families are worried. Many hearts feel restless. People are not only concerned about their own lives, but also about the kind of world we will leave for our children. If you’re not careful, the storm around you will try to b