“Honoring the Past, Guiding the Present, Inspiring the Future—in Christ.” From A Chaplain's Heart.
Next Chapter
Welcome to Your Next Chapter
Life doesn’t end when the calendar pages turn or when the mirror shows silver instead of gold. Every day you wake is an invitation—another page waiting to be written, another chapter unfolding with purpose and grace.
Maybe the house is too quiet now. Maybe the phone doesn’t ring like it used to. Perhaps you’re navigating pain that won’t let up, grief that keeps showing up uninvited, or losses that have left you wondering if anyone sees you anymore. If you’re walking through days that feel heavy, enduring suffering that others don’t understand, or watching friends and loved ones slip away one by one—you are seen. You are not forgotten. And you are not walking alone.
Whether you’re discovering new freedoms or facing unexpected hardships, whether you’re thriving or barely holding on, you’ve found a place to rest, to be honest, and to be reminded: you matter, your story matters, and even in the pain, there is still grace to be found.
Here you’ll find:
Stories from others who know what it’s like to hurt, to grieve, to feel invisible—and who’ve found light in the darkness
Reflections on faith when it’s hard, hope when it seems distant, and God’s presence in the loneliest valleys
Prayers for the sleepless nights, the aching bodies, the heavy hearts, and the weary souls
Encouragement that meets you right where you are—whether you’re celebrating or surviving
You’ve lived through decades of chapters already—some filled with joy, others marked by loss and struggle. Each one has shaped you, and yes, some have wounded you deeply. This next chapter may feel uncertain, painful, or achingly empty at times. But here’s what I know as your chaplain: even in the hardest chapters, you are held. Even when it feels like no one cares, God does. And even when the page is stained with tears, the story isn’t over.
So pull up a chair. Pour yourself some coffee or tea. Let’s turn the page together.
Do you ever catch yourself smiling at a memory of an old friend—someone who knew you when your hair wasn’t gray and your steps were quicker? True friendship is one of God’s most tender gifts, especially in seasons when we need it most. Through the stories of Ruth and Dorothy’s 72-year friendship, Albert’s faithful Coffee…
With silver hair and years behind you, you see life differently now. Ruth’s focus on what truly matters, Walter’s humility from hard lessons, and Florence’s gentle wisdom all show how aging shapes the heart. The Bible calls gray hair a “crown of splendor”—a sign of wisdom earned through real life. Your stories and experience are…
“Peace is not having no trouble—it’s having God with you in the middle of trouble. Looking back over your life, you’ve survived more than you sometimes remember. And in each season, even the hardest ones, God’s peace was there—a quiet anchor when everything else was shaking.”
What burdens—like guilt or regret—might you be carrying that God is inviting you to release? Aging is not a retreat from purpose—it’s a sacred continuation of God’s story in us. Through every season, His faithfulness sustains us and His grace renews us. Like Mrs. Thompson, who learned to let go of her lifelong guilt and…
Grief looks different for everyone, but comfort often comes through small, simple choices. Whether through music, time in nature, journaling, reading the Psalms, or turning to God in prayer, each step can bring peace and healing. Remember—God is close to the brokenhearted and walks with us in our pain.
In moments of grief, when tears fall unnoticed by the world, God sees every drop. He collects them, remembers them, and comforts us with His presence. This reflection explores divine compassion, the healing power of music, and the sacred truth that our sorrow is never wasted.
Loneliness can feel overwhelming, but God’s love and the care of friends can bring comfort and hope. Even in our loneliest times, God places people in our lives to show us we are seen, valued, and loved. Maria’s experience is a beautiful reminder of this truth.
As I read to Adolfo from Matthew 10, his eyes softened. The words about sparrows—small, seemingly insignificant—spoke directly to a quiet ache in him. Loneliness. A sense of being forgotten. But in that moment, Scripture reminded him: he is seen, he is valued, and he is held by God. His gratitude was deep, and the…
The lines on your face are not signs of loss, but of legacy—stories etched by laughter, tears, resilience, and love. The slowing of your steps is not a sign of weakness, but rather wisdom, as you walk gently. The forgetfulness is not emptiness, but a soul making room for eternity.As the years pass, it can…