While I practiced as a nurse practitioner in clinics and hospitals, I must’ve said “Say ah” at least a dozen times a day. It was second nature, a standard request to open the mouth for a quick look. Over time, that phrase began to take on new meaning. What if “ah” wasn’t just a physical cue but a spiritual invitation? What if it was the sound of letting go, the sound of truth-telling, the sound of being seen and heard? This blog, Say Ah, is me doing just that. It’s a space where I open wide, speak honestly, and invite you to do the same.
After decades in healthcare, I’ve stepped away from clinical practice to become a full-time caregiver for my elderly parents. In this sacred pause, I’ve come to understand something profound: healing isn’t confined to hospitals. It happens just as often in living rooms, kitchens, prayer closets, and quiet corners of our everyday lives. I’ve listened to patients through their symptoms, sighs, and silences. Now, I’m listening to my own heart, and to the hearts of those closest to me. Healing happens when we are present, when we are honest, and when we care deeply, even in the mundane. Like you, I carry many identities. I have endured scrutiny for who I am. In an effort to survive, I tried to keep my truth concealed as if compartmentalizing made it easier to exist. God has been calling me into something better, integration.
One of the most difficult-and eye-opening-chapters of my career was working in a maximum-security prison. The environment was harsh, but what hurt most was the way some staff spoke about incarcerated individuals. I’ll never forget hearing, “What a terrible excuse for a human being,” from a
colleague. Imagine receiving daily medication from someone who sees you that way. Jesus said: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” (Mark 12:31)
That’s not a suggestion. It’s the foundation of the Great Commandment. You can’t provide care without first offering acceptance, and you can’t offer acceptance while clinging to the idea that some people are more worthy than others.
Many religious people still operate under a silent ranking system of sin, condemning others while ignoring their own need for grace. But the Bible is clear: “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” (Romans 3:23) The Law wasn’t given to condemn. It was given to point us toward Christ. As Paul writes: “So the law was our guardian until Christ came that we might be justified by faith. Now that this faith has come, we are no longer under a guardian.” (Galatians 3:24-25) Freedom from shame, judgment, and spiritual posturing comes only through the grace of God. It is a gift of faith we did not earn but are called to pass on.
So here we are. You and me, breathing deeply. Opening up. Telling the truth. No more pretending. No more hiding. Let’s agree to neither judge ourselves nor others. Let’s take a breath together. Open wide. Get honest. And start saying “ah.”