This week has stretched me in more ways than I expected. Emotionally, mentally, spiritually. It’s been one of those weeks that leaves you quiet—not because there’s nothing to say, but because the noise of life has already said so much.

But this morning, I went to Mass.
And everything slowed down.

Palm Sunday doesn’t enter with fanfare—it enters with a procession of palms and the shadow of a cross. It holds both the “Hosanna!” and the heartbreak. The joy of the crowd and the ache of what’s to come.

Maybe that’s the kind of holy I needed today.

Not the kind that demands energy I don’t have.
Not the kind that expects me to have it all together.
But the kind that meets me in the middle of my mess.
The kind that walks beside me through the hard and the holy, just like Jesus did.

Holy Week begins here.
Not with perfection.
But with presence.

Wherever you are—tired, stretched, uncertain, or full of hope—there’s room for you on this path. Even if you feel like you’re arriving empty-handed.

Today, I’m laying down my palms not as a celebration of my strength—but as a surrender. A whispered Hosanna that says, “Even here, I trust You.”

And that feels like enough.

With heart,
Jenny