Finding Renewal at the SCRC Catholic Renewal Convention

John Michael Talbot, Saint Francis, and the quiet courage to begin again.

Years ago, someone placed a few music books and CDs into my hands. I was teaching children, working without a music budget, and hoping to give them something wonderful.

I have never forgotten that kindness.

This past Labor Day weekend, those memories came back as I attended the 2026 SCRC Catholic Renewal Convention, held September 5–6 at the Anaheim Marriott. I went for the teaching, music, and fellowship. I came home with a renewed sense of purpose—and a reminder of how far one small act of generosity can reach.

One of the greatest joys was meeting Viola Talbot and reconnecting with John Michael Talbot after so many years. His music had been an important part of my life and my early ministry. Hearing him again brought that history close.

And his voice? To my ears, it was every bit as beautiful as I remembered.

A gift that became music, creativity, and joy

During my early years teaching Kids Club at St. Anne’s, I had plenty of ideas but no budget for music. I wanted the children to sing, create, and experience the joy of sharing something together.

Around that time, I visited the Brothers and Sisters of Charity. I believe it was sometime in the 1990s. A gentleman greeted me at the door, and although I wish I could remember his name, I remember his kindness very clearly.

He gave me music books and CDs to use with the children.

As I recall, the community was observing a time of silence, perhaps during a retreat, so our conversation was brief. But the gifts he offered stayed with me long after that visit.

Those resources helped inspire me to write music of my own. Some of it became part of little productions I called “Create a Play in a Day.” We also put together small musical talent shows with the children.

It was so much fun.

Looking back, I wonder how much of that would have happened without someone first giving me something to draw from. I had the desire to teach and create. His generosity helped me put that desire into practice.

He may never have known what became of those books and recordings. Yet here I am, decades later, remembering the children, the music, and the joy that followed.

Hearing John Michael Talbot again

For readers unfamiliar with his story, John Michael Talbot’s musical journey began in the country-rock band Mason Proffit. His spiritual search led him into the Jesus Movement and, later, the Catholic Church in 1978. Inspired by Saint Francis of Assisi, he eventually founded the Brothers and Sisters of Charity, a community that includes celibate members, single people, and families.

His story is remarkable, but my connection to his work has always been personal.

His music accompanied a time when I was learning how to serve, how to teach, and how to bring creativity into ministry. Hearing him at the convention reminded me of that younger version of myself, full of ideas and eager to give the children something good.

But this weekend was more than a return to familiar music.

His reflections helped me reconnect with the Holy Spirit and think more deeply about the gifts we receive—and our responsibility to use them. I found myself considering what it means to live with greater simplicity, to make room for prayer, and to approach ordinary work with a willing heart.

For me, his music and teaching were the heart of the weekend.

Saint Francis, a familiar companion

Saint Francis of Assisi has held a place in my heart since childhood. I read about his life again and again. That early love was part of what drew me to the Brothers and Sisters of Charity.

So it was especially meaningful to hear Saint Francis discussed during the convention. The program included “Kindness in the Spirit—Walking with St. Francis of Assisi,” presented by Fr. Ethan Southard, pastor of St. John Eudes Church in Chatsworth.

This year marks the 800th anniversary of Saint Francis’s death on October 3, 1226. Franciscans commemorate his Transitus: his passage from earthly life into eternal life with God.

Eight hundred years later, his example still brings people together to consider how they might live with greater love, humility, and peace.

For me, hearing about him again connected several chapters of my life: the child reading his story, the teacher looking for music, and the woman now beginning a new creative undertaking.

The circumstances have changed. The desire to love God and do something useful with my gifts is still here.

Making room for the quiet

One part of John Michael’s reflections that stayed with me was the invitation to consider a simpler, more prayerful life.

That relationship between joyful praise and quiet contemplation is something he has discussed beyond this convention, too. In a 2014 interview with America, he described making room in his spiritual life for both enthusiastic praise and extended periods of silence.

I find something deeply reassuring in that.

I love the music, the gathering, and the shared joy. But I also need the quiet that helps me understand what to carry home.

For me, learning from a monastic approach to life does not mean leaving behind my family or my work. It means considering how I can bring greater attention, prayer, and simplicity to the life I already have.

I want to begin the morning with a more willing heart: Lord, help me recognize the work You are asking of me today.

Much of that work is already in front of me.

Through Momma Can, I hope to encourage women as they care for their homes, feed their families, and navigate the demands of motherhood. Through The Creative Catholic, I want to share the joy of the Church that lives in my heart and introduce the people whose creativity and good work deserve to be seen.

And, of course, there is my family.

I came home wanting to approach these responsibilities with renewed purpose—not simply to do more, but to be more attentive to why I am doing them.

Connection, even when confidence is still growing

The convention also gave me the pleasure of seeing familiar faces and meeting new people.

I brought little Holy Spirit-themed gifts to share, offering them when I had an opportunity to make a personal connection. Those small exchanges were among the things I enjoyed most.

Talking about my new website was harder.

After a difficult transition out of a previous season of ministry, I am still rebuilding some confidence. I believe in what I hope to create here, but explaining it to a stranger can bring up that uncomfortable question: Who am I to do this?

I do not have a tidy answer that makes all the uncertainty disappear.

What I do have is a love for this work, years of creative experience, and a desire to help people recognize the good in one another. I am learning to begin from there.

Remembering the gentleman who gave me those music books helps. That encounter mattered because he responded generously to the person in front of him. I can try to do the same.

The joy of connecting also left me with one hope for future conventions: more opportunities for small-group conversation and fellowship alongside the presentations. I would love dedicated time for attendees to introduce themselves, reflect together, and pray with one another.

That is simply my perspective as an attendee. Those personal connections meant so much to me that I found myself wishing for more room to make them.

What I am bringing home

I came home grateful for the music, the teaching, the familiar faces, and the people I had only just met.

Most of all, I came home remembering that encouragement can have a life far beyond the moment we offer it.

Someone gives a teacher music books. She writes songs and creates little plays with children. Years later, she remembers that generosity as she begins a place where other people’s gifts can be shared.

That is part of what I hope The Creative Catholic will become.

A place to meet the artist, musician, writer, teacher, maker, or business owner behind the work. A place to recognize sincere effort without expecting perfection. A place where we can offer practical support and a little encouragement to someone who may need it more than we know.

I am still finding my footing, but this weekend reminded me why I want to keep going.

Somebody once helped me bring my ideas to life.

Now I hope to offer a little of that kindness to someone else.

Has someone’s encouragement helped you use a gift you were unsure how to share? I would love to hear your story in the comments.