I became a Christian when I was fifteen years old. My faith did not protect me from hardship, and I do not pretend that following God makes every problem disappear. What faith gave me was somewhere to stand when life became uncertain.
Spiritual growth is rarely dramatic. It is usually built through small acts of obedience, perseverance, prayer, reflection, and the decision to keep going when you do not yet see the outcome.
01
More Than Four Decades in the Kitchen
I have worked as a chef for more than forty years. Professional kitchens teach discipline, preparation, endurance, teamwork, flexibility, and the ability to keep functioning when everything around you becomes chaotic.
They also teach humility. Plans change. Equipment breaks. People call out. Deadlines do not move, and the work still has to get done.
That environment shaped the practical way I approach faith and growth: real progress comes from doing the next right thing, repeating it, and allowing small steps to become a new direction.
02
The Caregiver Years
One of the most defining chapters of my life was caring for my parents, Patrick and Erma Broderick, through terminal illness and hospice.
Caregiving is an expression of love, but it can also be physically, emotionally, and spiritually exhausting. You carry responsibilities most people never see, and afterward you must rebuild a life that may no longer feel familiar.
That experience gave me a deep concern for caregivers, healthcare workers, helpers, and anyone who continually carries the pain of other people.
03
Writing for the Weary Helper
Those caregiver years eventually inspired When the Healer Is Weary, written for nurses, doctors, aides, therapists, hospice workers, family caregivers, and others who spend their lives helping people through difficult seasons.
Sometimes the person helping everyone else is the one quietly falling apart. I want that person to know they have not been forgotten.
04
A Wake-Up Call
In June 2026, I suffered a heart attack and underwent procedures to open two severely blocked coronary arteries. It forced me to slow down and reconsider how I was living.
Recovery became more than a physical process. It became another spiritual turning point—a reminder that life is fragile, time matters, and the work God places in our hearts should not be postponed indefinitely.
I began looking more seriously at the people I wanted to help and the message I felt called to share: your present circumstances do not get the final word.
