My Story
“I’ve always believed that stories—especially sacred ones—aren’t just meant to be read. They’re meant to be lived, wrestled with, and passed on.”
I grew up in Coachella, California, and went on to earn a double bachelor’s degree in Theology and Philosophy. My journey has taken me through seminary halls and parish chapels, where I discovered not just doctrine, but drama—where the lives of the saints and the life of Christ became not just teachings, but stories I longed to share.
My first book, In the Shadow of the Cross, began as a parish play and grew into a prayer of light and shadow—a Passion retold not in spectacle, but in stillness and reverence. My second, Blessed Are the Pure, was written for those who still dare to believe in virtue, who want to reclaim June not for pride, but for purity.
And if you’ve come this far, maybe that’s you.
While the world increasingly claims this month to celebrate pride, I felt called to reclaim it—not in protest, but in witness. I wanted to offer an alternative, a deeper “yes.” Not a condemnation of people, but a celebration of purity. Not a loud rebuttal, but a quiet procession of saints.
Blessed Are the Pure began with a simple thought: what if we flooded June with the lives of those who chose chastity—not just in the physical sense, but in heart, intention, and purpose? What if each day of this month echoed not with slogans, but with stories of virtue that challenge and inspire?
This book was born from that desire. It is both a devotional and a declaration: that purity is not repression—it’s strength. That chastity is not shame—it’s clarity. And that in a time of great confusion, the lives of the saints still speak, still shine, and still show us how to live freely under the gaze of God.
This isn’t a book of rules. It’s a book of love—love that is disciplined, intentional, and deeply rooted in the heart of Christ.
If this devotional stirs your soul, it’s because it was written from mine.
I don’t write because I have all the answers—I write because the saints did. They showed me that holiness is often quiet, often costly, and always worth the price. So I offer you these pages as a lantern on the path, lit not by my words, but by the ones I’ve inherited.
We are all walking toward the same Cross. And there is still room in the shadow for one more soul.