As I set up my calendar for the month, I select a quote I’ve found that speaks to me. I write it in my planner and leave space below it to capture phrases I hear or read that speak to me and relate to the quote. I found this practice centers me throughout the month, and helps me be more present in my conversations, meetings, and readings. For April 2026, my quote was, “…but the brave thing to do is to let a little wildness have its way with us, to see where it takes us.”

My mom has a collection of children’s books, all of which she read to me countless times growing up. A top favorite of hers being “Where the Wild Things Are.” Frustrated, the main character ventures off into his imagination to live with the Wild Things until love brings him home to his mom. I always enjoyed the adventure of it—the freedom of the boy to explore the beyond. But, I loved the comfort of his return home. Mom waiting with a hot meal and a hug for him. The safety of love in the wildness of bravery.

Here are the quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught the attention of my head and heart this month regarding “brave” and “a little wildness”:

• Welcome back to your happy place
• You’re a steward of souls
• May our love be more fierce than our grief
• Letting what comes, come
• Is it stillness or movement that is required?
• What if I can’t see what comes next because it is what comes next?
• Let us give each other a place to rest
• Get courageous
• Be brave, be changed
• There is always something amazing, everywhere
• The soul does not want to be saved, it wants to be seen and heard
• But what multitudes they contain
• Love is the unrecognized invitation
• In an act of terrified surrender, I gave myself over to my Great Absurdity
• I am she who exists in all fears and in trembling boldness

April revealed that wildness comes in many forms and is a wonderful place to explore. Growth, affirmation, and wisdom reside there.

I wandered into the wilderness a few times this past month. I felt when the wilderness called me to come. Knotted stomach. Fits and starts of energy. Tense shoulders. Eagerness with cautious hesitation. A swirl of curiosity, hope, and worry linked by “what ifs.”

Then came bravery… the idea shared, the invitation given, the hand raised, the inner made public, the emotional reveal held out for others to finally see.

My breath held. The step forward made.

And to my amazement, each time – just like in mom’s favorite book – love arose, and welcomed me home.

Home to an expanded friendship with a former coworker with a promise for continued “presence.” Home to a mindfulness practice that comforted weary federal employees, one of whom said when she heard my words she knew she was in a “safe space.” Home to stability which a coworker said my email provided amidst “life’s chaos.” Home to comfort as I grieved the demolition of my church’s Chapel where I’ve always felt my Dad’s presence and fellow church members shared their sacred stories from that sacred space with me. Home to connection after a complex day as I opened the mail and read a friend’s handwritten note about my posts of Facebook, “I appreciate your vulnerability. I hope you know how much your voice resonated with so many of us.” Home to encouragement as I shared a guarded idea with a friend on a morning walk.

Upon reflection, the wilderness… my wilderness… is not dark with scary monsters. But rather a curtain of uncertainty. A veil – that when passed through bravely, vulnerably – always seem to return me to love.