We were just a few hundred feet from the highest point in the contiguous United States—Mt. Whitney. After eight arduous days and 110 miles of trekking through Kings Canyon and Sequoia National Parks, we had finally reached the summit, deep in an expanse too remote for even the strongest cellular signal.
It wasn’t the first time we had spent a week backpacking without any way to communicate with our families. And it’s always a surreal experience—to be so completely off the grid, unable to hear the voices of loved ones, unaware of what’s happening in the world, and uncertain of the kind of world we would be walking back into.
But as we reached the 14,500-foot summit, something unexpected happened. Our phones, long silent, suddenly sprang to life, vibrating and ringing in staggered intervals, almost as if each of us were receiving our own unique Morse code messages. As my phone connected to service, I looked down at the screen, reading texts and then listening to voicemails from my wife, my kids, and my parents. Tears began to stream down my face.
There was a sweetness and tenderness in their voices that I had too often overlooked or failed to fully appreciate.
I have written before about the importance of solitude—how essential it is to step away from the noise and chaos, to embrace stillness, and to allow peace to permeate our souls. I can’t emphasize enough how vital the disciplines of stillness and solitude are for our mental and emotional well-being.
But in abstention, there is also longing—a deep ache for the things we may have taken for granted. We yearn to be reunited with the simple beauty of a voice, a touch, or quaint moments we once failed to fully appreciate. And in all the ways we have neglected the richness of what is right in front of us—whether it’s listening to a song, sharing a meal, or enjoying the presence of those we love—we come to understand that the most ordinary experiences are often the most profound, shaping our days in ways we only recognize once they are out of reach.
Question
What would I long for if I suddenly had to go without it? How can I cultivate more gratitude for the ordinary yet profound experiences in my daily life?
Peace,
Brandon
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Confession time.
Last week, I shared my experience as a Salvation Army bell ringer, where one unexpected act of generosity from someone with very little reminded me of the power of compassion. I also reflected on how my rugged appearance often led people, including a close friend, to overlook me.
Here’s the truth: over the last few years, I’ve become much more like those who overlooked me than those who looked me in the eye and acknowledged me.
About five years ago, I wanted to teach Will the importance of helping those in need. There was a man who often stood at a busy intersection in town, holding a sign asking for help. Will and I decided to put together a care package—food, supplies, and treats for his dog. We didn’t just hand it off and leave; we introduced ourselves, got his name, and listened to his story.
But as days turned into weeks, and weeks into years, I noticed the same man in the same spot, holding the same sign, asking for money. Even now, five years later, he’s still there. And here’s my confession: it ticks me off. I’m not proud of this feeling, but I’m being honest.
I’ve spent years volunteering at homeless shelters, and I know where the meal sites are in our town. I’ve seen how organizations like Love Chapel provide food, housing, and assistance for those in need. So, it frustrates me that this man seems content to stand on that corner rather than taking steps to move forward.
That frustration has made me jaded. I drive a lot for work, and I see people on street corners every day asking for help. Somewhere along the way, I stopped looking at them. I’ve lumped them all into one category—people who only want money with no intention of changing their situation.
But I know that’s not fair. It’s not easy to discern every person’s situation. And yes, there are people who misuse what they’re given. I understand that. But my overreaction—ignoring all people in need—has been wrong. Especially now, when so many are facing legitimate and desperate need.
A friend recently sent me a note that reminded me why it’s so important to prioritize compassion and see the humanity in others, even when it’s hard.
Her story gives a voice to those who are silently suffering:
“I was homeless for nearly three years. I felt invisible, worthless, and unlovable. But there were moments of kindness that gave me hope. A man gave me an umbrella on a cold, rainy day. A woman handed me a thick, fluffy blanket fresh from the dryer. Another brought me coffee and donuts while I rested. Those small gestures made me feel like I mattered. Sometimes, just eye contact and a smile can remind someone they’re not invisible—and it costs us nothing.”
Her words cut through my cynicism. Compassion doesn’t require perfect judgment; it requires seeing people and reminding them that they matter.
Question
Do I truly see and acknowledge the humanity in others, or have I let frustration and judgment cloud my compassion?
Peace,
Brandon
Over the Christmas holiday in 2010, I volunteered as a Salvation Army bell ringer during two of the coldest days of the year. Bundled in layers of clothing, with a hat, gloves, and a thicker-than-normal, bushy beard, I was warm but practically unrecognizable, armed with my trusty giant metal vacuum thermos filled with coffee
My subzero bell ringing commenced.
At first, I felt awkward. I’m no musician, and my bell-ringing skills were far from rhythmic. It wasn’t long before I wondered if people were donating to silence the offbeat cacophony. My appearance didn’t help—I looked like a rugged drifter shaped by the elements. Even friends walked past me without a glance despite my efforts to make eye contact.
Was I invisible?
Or were people avoiding me to escape the guilt of not giving? Perhaps my rough appearance triggered snap judgments. Over the four-hour shift, I reflected on these possibilities, watching how people reacted as they approached.
Late in the day, a beat-up, rusty 1970s Ford truck pulled up. An elderly woman struggled out of the passenger side, her husband parking the exhaust-spewing vehicle before joining her. After purchasing a few staples, the man walked toward me. He looked me in the eye, wished me a Merry Christmas, and reached into his worn leather pouch to give. It wasn’t a large sum, but more than anyone else had contributed all day.
The gesture floored me. This man, whose appearance mirrored my own scruffiness, not only looked at me but gave generously from what little he had. His simple act of kindness sparked a cascade of questions— Did he identify with my rough appearance? Had he experienced judgment before and wanted me to feel seen? Was he once on the receiving end of the Salvation Army’s help?
I couldn’t escape the realization that those with less are often the first to give. People like this man—humble and worn—seemed far less likely to judge and far more willing to empathize. As much as I resisted these thoughts, my observations throughout the day continually reinforced them.
Near the end of my shift, a friend approached the store. Determined not to let this one pass without acknowledgment, I called out, “Hey! It’s Brandon!” Startled, they turned and exclaimed, “Oh my goodness, I thought you were homeless and wasn’t even going to look at you.”
The experience left me humbled and reflective. That man in the truck reminded me that true generosity comes not from abundance but from the heart. He saw me, not my disheveled exterior, and gave what he could. His act of kindness made me wish more people had his eyes and his heart, and it reminded me to be less quick to judge and more willing to see.
Questions
How often do I judge others by their appearance or circumstances, and what might I miss by failing to truly see them?
Am I willing to give from the heart as those who have the least to spare?
Peace,
Brandon
#SalvationArmy #RedKettle
5-STAR REVIEW: Deep Calls to Deep is the first book I’ve read by Brandon Andress, though I’ve been reading his weekly posts for years. I intended to read this book one entry each day, but often found myself reading several pages at a time because I enjoy Brandon’s writing style and his ability to connect with the reader. He shares his vulnerability in honest and authentic ways and his writing challenges me to pause and reflect on everyday life events, both big and small. I have enjoyed that the book is written in sections which has allowed for me to leave it on my side table and pick it up when I have a chance, read a page, reflect, and pick it up again the next day, or several days later. This book would be a wonderful investment in your personal journey to dig deeper for connections and meaning in your daily life, and the perfect gift to share with others who are on a spiritual journey of their own or who would enjoy insights on making life more meaningful. Thank you, Traci Andresen!
I should have known better with the theatrical release of A Christmas Story two years prior in 1983. But I was eleven and in fifth grade. I had begun the very slow transition from every gift being Star Wars everything to setting my sights on a Levi’s blue jean jacket. Maybe it was seeing Michael J. Fox in Back to the Future or Judd Nelson in The Breakfast Club, but I knew I needed a cool upgrade if I wanted to be noticed by the school girls.
While this entire post significantly dates me, I should note that I probably ripped the page out of the Sears catalog, circled the jean jacket with my blue Bic ink pen, and put it in an envelope for Santa— or maybe just my parents to discover. Like Ralphie dreaming about a Red Ryder BB Gun, I lay in bed imagining how my life would change once I went to school for the first time wearing my new jacket. Who would be cooler than me? Should they put me in the next Back to the Future movie instead of Michael J. Fox? Life was about to be different for me because of that jacket. I just knew it.
But then Christmas Eve happened, and I still wonder how parents could wreck the hopes and dreams of a kid for twelve long hours. How extended family— and likely Santa himself— could be insiders to such an insidious plan. I opened my gifts at my grandparent’s house and received all the usual grandparent gifts. No surprises. I didn’t expect the jacket until Christmas morning anyway. But then, my cousin who is two weeks older than me, opened his gifts. To my shock, my dismay, my utter devastation, the last gift he ripped apart revealed MY JEAN JACKET. Not another type of jean jacket— THE JEAN JACKET I had circled in the Sears catalog.
I had been slighted. I had been betrayed. Had my grandparents not been given the right information? Had someone lost my envelope with its very specific instructions? I watched my cousin smile with elation while I sat nauseously, putting my hands through my hair, believing that even the Christ-child was crying in his manger for my misfortune.
I suppose waking my parents at 4 am on Christmas Day was my form of retribution. Whether I believed I was getting that jean jacket or not, I still had some Star Wars characters to open up. I can’t remember if it was the first or last gift I opened, but when I tore the wrapping paper of that box and saw that jacket, I cried in crusty-eyed elation. All my hopes and dreams had come true. I would finally be the coolest kid on the block. I may have even put it on and gone back to bed.
To this day, we laugh at this story. It’s even funnier with the photos. But as I replay that memory and look at the pictures, I can’t help but think how relevant that story is for us now. We all have hopes, dreams, and aspirations about how we see our lives. We imagine life being one way, but often feels out of reach— or worse, spiraling out of control. In our darkest moments, we feel like all is lost. We can't see any other reality than the devastation we are in.
That is the place where our hearts break. Where we want to give up. Where we sit with our heads in our hands, seemingly overcome in defeat.
Of course, what you may be going through is far more serious than not getting a jean jacket. But the principle is the same. In the dark of night, it is impossible to imagine the light ever breaking. It is difficult to believe your life ever being different, or your circumstances ever changing. It is hard to visualize a reality in which your pain subsides and transforms you— making you a stronger, more resilient, and filled with greater wisdom and perspective.
But listen, the light eventually breaks. And when it does, we often find that the waiting, the disappointment, and the heartbreak were not the end of our story, but the beginning of something greater than we could have ever imagined. That is my hope and my hope for each of you this Christmas.
Question
When have I faced moments of disappointment or darkness, and how might those experiences have shaped me into a stronger, more hopeful, and resilient person?
Peace,
Brandon
5-Star Review: Deep Calls to Deep is a collection of daily meditations grounded in Biblical truths which offer hope, inspiration, encouragement and introspection. Brandon Andress has a masterful way of discovering meaning in everyday experiences. Each entry ends with a thought provoking reflection to challenge us in our daily walk. This is a great collection to be read time and again! Thank you, Stephanie Bruther Hootman!
🎉 LAUNCH DAY ALERT! 📷
I’m beyond thrilled to announce the release of my new book, Deep Calls to Deep: Meditations for Your Spiritual Journey, Volume 1.
In our chaotic, noisy world, we crave peace, healing, and connection. Deep Calls to Deep is your guide to finding that tranquility. Here's what you'll experience:
Engaging Stories- Unveil the sacred in the everyday.
Guiding Questions: Ignite deep, personal reflection.
Daily Practices: Transform spiritual insights into daily life.
Perfect for Every Stage of Life - Whether you're young, in your prime, or enjoying your golden years, this book resonates with your journey, fostering growth, healing, and transformation.
A Thoughtful Gift - With Christmas just around the corner, Deep Calls to Deep is the perfect present. It's not just a book; it’s an experience that keeps giving, ideal for personal reflection or group discussions.
Where to Get Your Copy
Signed Copies:
Visit Viewpoint Books in Columbus, Indiana, or call 812-376-0778 to have one shipped to you. You can also visit Viewpoint online at https://t.co/Q155Gtprv6.
Online:
Amazon- https://t.co/q4h0BeR0ny
Noble- https://t.co/Dyide6J9rf
If you’re ready for a deeper connection to yourself, others, and the sacred, I’d love for you to take this journey with me.
Peace,
Brandon
Jenny told me on March 4, 2022 that she was over a week late on her period.
Let me tell you.
When you are an almost 48-year-old man who had a vasectomy over a decade ago and who has three kids (22, 19, and 10), the last thing you want to hear are those words.
Like a gray-bearded soldier, hoping he had already fought in his last war, I marched into Fort Walgreens and stealthily purchased a box with two tests. Walking out to my car, I began laughing out loud at the hilarity of my divine comedy.
With the bathroom door secure from a potentially wandering 10-year-old, we waited for two minutes that were twenty years.
The 99.9% accurate digital test flashed.
Pregnant.
You have likely heard the phrase build your house upon the rock rather than the sand. The point is that a house built upon the rock is better able to withstand strong winds and heavy storms than one built upon a foundation that easily washes away.
I imagine this firm foundation that centers a person and gives solid grounding has to be peace and love. Despite what storms may blow our way, it is the foundation of peace and love that firmly grounds us, enabling us to stand firm. That is why the previous writings have been so insistent upon each of us cultivating a healthy and vibrant inner self. When our center is peace and love, we have the resiliency to handle the most unpredictable life situations.
I am glad I have been working on my inner self over the last few months because this was a life situation I never expected. After hugging and nervously laughing, I told Jenny that I am going to pour every ounce of love and wisdom into that kid. It is not the path I imagined us taking at this point in our lives, but I received it with a peaceful soul.
I suppose that is what we are all working toward, together.
Interestingly enough, after three subsequent pregnancy tests and a fourth from the doctor, it turns out that Jenny is not pregnant. The first test was a false positive. I could have told you that earlier, but I wanted you to have the same experience that we had over that two day period.
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Deep Calls to Deep: Meditations for Your Spiritual Journey is available everywhere TOMORROW!
The truth, and my hard-earned wisdom, is that joy lies in the creation and sharing, no matter how many people see it.
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Deep Calls to Deep: Meditations for Your Spiritual Journey is available for preorder! I will be at Viewpoint Books in Columbus, Indiana today from 1-4pm. Stop by or call 812-376-0778 to get your copy!
When you finally carry them into your house, wash them, and place them on the sunny windowsill. When you finally slice the dark red tomato with so much juice pouring out from them. You are appreciative. You are thankful. You see the work of your hands and the delight in your toil.
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When I asked him, Will said that the best part of our trip was spending time together on a small, secluded beach, swimming for hours in Lake Superior. It was a powerful reminder that what we need most is not a multitude of things to keep us occupied but rather presence.
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Feeling tired from a long day at work and not very well, I had been wishing it was a bit later so I could put them to bed. At that exact moment, something hit me, and I closed my eyes, resting my head on the back of the couch, just listening. I heard Caroline's sweet voice, Anna laughing at her, my wife cleaning up in the kitchen, and Aberdeen, my dog, running around and barking at the girls. It was complete chaos, but the most beautiful chaos I had ever heard.
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Deep Calls to Deep: Meditations for Your Spiritual Journey is available for preorder! LINK IN BIO @brandonandress