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 I call them Divine accidents—those chance encounters that feel anything but random. My usual place in Brisbane wasn’t available, so I booked a quirky little boutique hotel with a communal deck that overlooked the street. Great spot to write. Across the street stood a massive, church-like building. Curious, I wandered over. Turns out it wasn’t a […]

📱 “In Memory of a Companion”A Nomad Santa Reflection Some say it was a freak gust of wind.Others blame the umbrella. I blame neither.But on a breezy Monday in Washington, D.C., a rogue deck umbrella took flight and struck me—not hard—but just hard enough to knock the phone right out of my hand. My Samsung

“Are you one of those traveling Santas?” “Yes,” I said. “But this travel gig is my summer job. It’s way too quiet at the North Pole.” We both laughed. But the moment stayed with me. I’d just spent four days wrangling computer platforms that wouldn’t recognize me. Wrong login here, misfiled profile there. Somewhere along

Years ago, I was sitting in a larger church—at least by Canadian standards. The kind with high ceilings, a generous sanctuary, and a pipe organ tucked into the balcony where the choir usually sat. The hymn before the sermon had just ended, and its last chord lingered in the air like incense. The organist stood,

A Nomad Santa Reflection It was late. I’d been called to Labor and Delivery for what was a quiet shift, but this wasn’t routine. I stepped into a dimly lit hospital room. No monitors, no staff buzzing about — just silence. A woman lay in the bed — asleep, or sedated — her face pale

A Nomad Santa Reflection Bangkok. Hot, loud, alive. The kind of city that hums under your skin. I was only there a few short hours — layover before returning home, I decided to explore the city the way most tourists do: with wide eyes and one foot always just a little off the beaten path.

A Nomad Santa Reflection Years ago, during clinical training, I was A hospital chaplain for years, I was invited to observe an autopsy. It was quiet in the room — cold, sterile, respectful. The kind of silence that carries weight. The pathologist worked methodically. I was the only observer that day, but he still narrated

A Nomad Santa Reflection I was on my way home from a mission. One of those long-haul flights where the cabin lights dim, and dinner service feels almost ceremonial. I decided to allow myself a small indulgence — a glass of red wine with dinner. Nothing fancy. Just a plastic cup, filled three-quarters of the

I was standing in line at a Starbucks, somewhere between flights, when I noticed him — a young Marine in full dress blues. He stood tall, posture like steel, and ordered his coffee without hesitation. “Venti. Black, Dark roast.” No cream. No sugar. Just the essentials. I stepped up behind him and asked quietly, “Heading

They say travel broadens the mind, but I think it also softens the heart. Every gate, every terminal, every taxi ride—each one brings a chance encounter, a quiet moment, or an unexpected connection. That’s the magic I’ve come to cherish as Nomad Santa. It’s not about the miles or the stamps in a passport. It’s