A Beacon of Light

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  • My name is Kevin Carroll. I was born and raised in San Francisco, California, where I attended Saint Ignatius College Preparatory. I am a graduate of both Santa Clara University and the University of San Francisco. Following a 40-year career in teaching and pastoral ministry, I launched a new career as a writer and speaker.

    I live in San José, California. My wife, Kathy, and I have three adult sons and five precious grandchildren. I have much for which to be grateful.

    I can be reached via email at kmc43sjc@gmail.com

    My books are available for purchase online from Amazon. I also have copies of some of these titles at my home for those who would like to buy them directly from me.

    A Moment’s Pause for Gratitude  (2017)

    Cherries in the Summer  (2021)

    The Ambassador of 38th Avenue  (2022)

    Dad: 12 Questions…  (2023)

    A Focus on Gratitude  (2024)

    Through the Lens of Gratitude  (2024)

    A Bahamian Odyssey (2026)

  • The Last Lecture

    “We cannot change  
    the cards we are dealt,  
    just how we  
    play the hand.” 
    Randy Pausch

    One of life’s most difficult lessons is recognizing that we are not in control of everything that happens to us. We make plans, pursue dreams, build relationships, and try to create the lives we want. Yet illness, loss, disappointment, aging, and the actions of other people can suddenly change those plans. Randy Pausch understood this reality in a profound way. After being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and learning that he had only months of good health remaining, he could not change the hand he had been dealt. He could, however, choose how he would play it. His example reminds us that although we cannot control everything that happens to us, we can control our attitude, our actions, and how we respond.

    Accepting what we cannot control is often difficult. We naturally want life to unfold according to our hopes and expectations. We may believe that if we work hard, make good decisions, and treat others well, things should turn out as we would like. Life offers no such guarantee. People become ill. Relationships change. Opportunities disappear. People we love die. We make mistakes that cannot be undone. Acceptance does not mean that these experiences do not hurt or that we should simply give up. It means recognizing reality rather than wasting our energy wishing that an unchangeable situation were different.

    Once we recognize what we cannot control, an important question remains: What can I control? We can control how we respond. We can allow disappointment to make us bitter, or we can allow it to make us wiser. We can spend our lives regretting the past, or we can learn from it. We can respond to suffering by withdrawing from others, or we can become more compassionate because we understand suffering ourselves. We cannot always choose our circumstances, but we can choose the person we want to be within those circumstances.

    Pausch demonstrated this freedom beautifully. About a month after learning that his pancreatic cancer diagnosis was terminal, he delivered The Last Lecture at Carnegie Mellon University, where he worked as a professor of computer science. Remarkably, his presentation was not primarily about dying. It was about living. He spoke about pursuing childhood dreams, overcoming obstacles, helping other people achieve their dreams, expressing gratitude, and making meaningful use of the time we are given. Pausch could not determine how much time remained in his life, but he could determine what he would do with that time.

    His message applies to all of us because everyone eventually receives cards we would rather not have been dealt. Our circumstances may be very different from Pausch’s, but the challenge is the same. We cannot always change what happens. We can only decide what happens within us as a result.

    None of us chooses every card in our hand. What matters is how we play those cards. Perhaps our greatest freedom is not controlling our circumstances but choosing courage over fear, gratitude over resentment, and love over bitterness. We may not choose the hand life deals us, but every day gives us another opportunity to decide how we will play it.

  • The Gift of Time

    “The greatest gift you  
    can give someone   
    is your time.” 
    Rick Warren

    It’s true! “The greatest gift you can give someone is your time.” But there is more to Rick Warren’s words quoted above. He tells us, “When you give your time, you are giving a portion of your life that you will never get back.” These words of wisdom invite us to think differently about what it means to give. We often associate generosity with material things—a thoughtful gift, a financial contribution, or some other tangible expression of kindness. Yet possessions can be replaced. Money can be earned again. Time is different. Once an hour, a day, or a year has passed, it is gone forever. When we willingly share our time with another person, we are offering something genuinely priceless: a portion of our life.

    Time is essential to building and sustaining meaningful relationships. Friendships do not deepen simply because we wish them to. Families do not remain close without attention and effort. Relationships grow through shared experiences and ordinary moments. Having coffee with a friend, eating dinner with one’s family, taking a walk with someone we care about, or sitting together engaged in conversation may seem insignificant at the time. Yet these moments gradually create bonds of trust, affection, and understanding. By choosing to spend time with another person, we communicate a powerful message without necessarily saying a word: You matter to me.

    Giving our time also means giving our presence. There is an important difference between being physically present and being genuinely attentive. We can sit across from someone while checking our phones, thinking about our next appointment, or preparing what we want to say next. Genuine presence asks more of us. It requires us to listen—not merely to words, but to the feelings and experiences behind them. Sometimes the greatest kindness we can offer someone who is struggling is not advice or a solution. It is simply our willingness to sit beside them, listen attentively without judgment, and allow them to know they are not alone.

    Interestingly, the gift of time enriches the giver as well as the receiver. Time spent mentoring a young person, visiting someone who is lonely, volunteering in the community, accompanying a friend through a difficult experience, or simply enjoying the company of someone we love often becomes part of our own treasured memories. In giving ourselves to others, we frequently receive unexpected blessings in return — wisdom, friendship, gratitude, perspective, and a deeper appreciation for life.

    As I grow older, I become increasingly aware that a meaningful life cannot be measured only by achievements, possessions, or the number of tasks completed in a given day. Ultimately, much of life’s meaning is found in relationships—in the people we have love, encourage, listen to, teach, help, and accompany along the way.

    Rick Warren’s words remind us that our time is limited, which is precisely what makes time so valuable. Perhaps one of the most important questions we can ask ourselves is not simply, “How am I spending my time?” but “With whom am I sharing it?” The greatest gift we give another person may not be something purchased or wrapped. It may be a portion of our life, freely and lovingly shared.

  • Write It Down!

    “What doesn’t kill us 
    gives us something 
    to write about.” 
    Julie Wright

    There is something powerful about putting our thoughts down on paper. In a world filled with constant noise, distractions, and digital communication, writing gives us a quiet space to pause and understand what is happening inside us. Whether we write in a journal, compose a letter, tell a story, or simply record a thought, the act of writing can bring clarity to experiences that otherwise feel confusing or overwhelming. As Wallace Stegner observed, “We write to make sense of it all.”

    Writing allows us to understand ourselves as much as it allows others to understand us. When thoughts remain in our heads, they can become tangled together. Putting them on paper forces us to slow down and give them shape. A fear can become a sentence, an idea can become a paragraph, and a difficult experience can become a story. Once our thoughts are visible, we can examine them from a different perspective.

    Writing can also help us carry pain. Karen Blixen wrote, “All sorrows can be borne if you tell a story about them.” This does not mean that writing magically removes suffering, but it can give suffering meaning. By describing what has happened to us, we transform an experience into something we can reflect upon rather than something that simply overwhelms us. Maya Angelou similarly warned of “the agony” of carrying an untold story inside. Sometimes, writing is a way of finally giving that story a voice.

    Just as importantly, writing reminds us that our individual experiences have value. Paulo Coelho said, “Writing means sharing. It’s part of the human condition to want to share things — thoughts, ideas, opinions.” Our words may help someone else feel less alone. Sean Thomas Dougherty captured this idea poignantly: “There is someone out there with a wound in the exact shape of your words.” What we write may resonate with another person in ways we cannot anticipate.

    Yet many people hesitate to write because they are afraid of not being good enough. This is where we must remember that writing does not have to be perfect to have value. Neil Gaiman reminds us, “No one cares about your first draft.” Jodi Picoult makes the same point more simply: “You can’t edit a blank page.” The important thing is to begin. The first words may be awkward, but they create something that can later be improved.

    Ultimately, writing is an act of discovery. Henry Miller called it “a voyage of discovery,” while Isabel Allende offered a simple challenge: “Write what should not be forgotten.” Our thoughts, memories, questions, hopes, and experiences deserve to be recorded. We write not because every thought is perfect, but because every honest thought has the potential to teach us something about ourselves. Putting pen to paper is therefore more than a method of communication. It is a way of knowing ourselves, preserving our experiences, and connecting with others. As Libba Bray reminds us, “Write like it matters, and it will.”

  • “Metta”

    “If we practice 
    good will, 
    we become loving.”
    Charlotte Bell

    I learn something new every day. Yesterday morning, I received an email from someone I met at a dinner party a few weeks ago. Sandy was responding to one of my recent blog posts. At the end of her message, where one might normally write Take care, All the best, or Love before writing their name, she wrote the word Metta. I had never seen the word before, so I Googled it to see what might come up.

    I learned that Metta is a form of meditation rooted in an ancient Buddhist tradition. The practice involves silently directing well-wishes and good will toward yourself and others. Modern psychological science and neuroscience validate its effectiveness. 

    The four classic phrases used in Metta meditation are safe, happy, healthy, and at ease. When I read this, I recalled a conversation Sandy and I had at the dinner party. She was explaining a simple meditation she used to help her find peace in her life and to nourish her soul. She was introducing me to Metta meditation, but I don’t recall if she identified it as such at that time.

    Metta is not sentimentality, and it’s not affection. It’s not about turning someone we don’t like into someone we do like. Metta is simply an attitude of benevolence or good will toward all beings. Can you imagine what our world might be like if we could permeate the world with good will toward all?

    After centering ourselves and focusing on our breathing, we can begin our meditation by thinking of one person. It may be someone with whom we have an excellent relationship, or it could be someone with whom we are at odds. Focusing on this person, we have the opportunity to say these simple phrases:

    May you be safe.
    May you be happy.
    May you be healthy.
    May you live with ease.

    Repeating these words, with a specific person in mind, can be a powerful exercise. After doing this with a few people specifically in mind, we can say these words again while focusing on ourselves:

    May I be safe.
    May I be happy.
    May I be healthy.
    May I live with ease.

    So simple, and yet so powerful. I am tremendously grateful to Sandy for sharing this practice with me. Now it’s up to me to have the self-discipline and determination to do this every day.

  • The Road Not Taken

    “Of all the words 
    of mice and men, 
    the saddest are 
    ‘It might have been.’”
    Louis L’Amour

    Some decisions close a door so quietly that we don’ realize until many years later just how different the world on the other side might have been. Many years ago, I made such a decision. I chose to remain in California rather than return to The Bahamas. I have never regretted the life that followed, but from time to time, I still wonder: What if I had chosen differently?

    Upon graduating from Santa Clara University, I received a letter from Mr. Lou Adderley, principal of Saint Augustine’s College in Nassau, welcoming me back to The Bahamas and the SAC community. I had previously taught there and had developed a deep affection for the school, my students and colleagues, and the Bahamian people. The possibility of returning was exciting. Nassau was thousands of miles from California, yet in many ways it already felt like home.

    About that same time, however, I received an unsolicited telephone call from the principal at Saint Christopher School in San José. She was looking for someone to teach junior high literature and wondered whether I might be interested. Suddenly, two very different futures stood before me.

    My heart was pulling me toward Nassau, but practical considerations pointed toward San José. I had recently secured a two-bedroom house in Santa Clara for only $200 a month. My 1971 Volkswagen was paid for and in excellent condition. Most of my family and longtime friends lived in California. Remaining in San José offered familiarity, security, and the opportunity to begin the next chapter of my teaching career close to home.

    It was a heartbreaking decision, but I stayed.

    What if I had boarded a plane for Nassau instead? Would I have remained at Saint Augustine’s College for five years, twenty years, perhaps my entire career? Would Nassau have become my permanent home? Friendships that eventually faded with time and distance might instead have deepened. New friendships would have formed. Perhaps I would have met someone there and married. Perhaps my children would have been Bahamian. My career, my writing, my spirituality, and even my understanding of myself might have developed in entirely different ways.

    Of course, there is another possibility. I might have returned to Nassau only to discover that the experience I remembered could not be recreated. After a few years, California might have called me home again.

    That is the mystery of the road not taken. We imagine that changing one decision would alter one part of our lives, when in reality it might change almost everything that follows.

    Fifty years later, I cannot know whether returning to Nassau would have given me a better life. I know only that it would have given me a different one. The choice I made led to people I loved, students I taught, experiences I treasured, and a life I could never have imagined on that uncertain day long ago.

  • Our Need for Hope

    “There comes a time when humanity is called to shift to a new level of consciousness, to reach a higher moral ground. A time when we have to shed our fear and give hope to each other.”

    Wangari Maathai

    It is difficult to watch the evening news today without feeling deeply discouraged. We hear of wars that continue to take innocent lives, violence in our communities, racism and hatred that divide individuals, families, and communities, corruption within governments, homelessness on our streets, and uncertainty about the potential risks of artificial intelligence. With so much troubling news being aired every night, fear can easily become the lens through which we view the world. Yet, perhaps, it is times like this when hope matters most.

    Hope is not the same as optimism. Optimism assumes that somehow everything will eventually turn out well. Hope is more demanding. It recognizes suffering, injustice, and uncertainty while refusing to surrender to these things. Hope asks a different question: Given the world as it is, what can I do to help create the world as I believe it should be?

    None of us can single-handedly end a war, eliminate homelessness, eradicate racism, reform a corrupt government, or determine how artificial intelligence will affect humanity. But acknowledging our limitations does not mean accepting powerlessness. We can begin by paying attention to what we allow to shape our consciousness. Being informed is important, but continuously consuming negative news can distort our perception of reality. Alongside stories of tragedy are countless stories that never become headlines — people caring for their neighbors, welcoming strangers, mentoring children, feeding the hungry, forgiving one another, and quietly making their communities better.

    Gratitude can also nurture hope. When I consciously notice the people, experiences, and ordinary gifts for which I am grateful, I am reminded that darkness is never the entire story. Gratitude does not erase suffering. Rather, it widens the lens through which I view life and allows goodness to remain visible even during difficult times.

    Hope also grows through relationships and meaningful action. We need people who encourage compassion, perspective, laughter, faith, and courage. And rather than remaining passive spectators to the world’s problems, we can become active participants in its healing. We can volunteer, mentor a young person, visit someone who is lonely, support a worthy cause, engage respectfully in civic life, or simply extend kindness to someone having a difficult day. We may not be able to change the whole world, but as Saint Mother Teresa calls us to do, we can make a difference by changing the world for just one person.

    Perhaps each of us should periodically ask: What is my preferred future? What kind of family, community, nation, and world do I hope future generations will inherit? Then comes the more challenging question: What can I do today to move one small step closer to that future?

    Wangari Maathai, a social activist from Kenya who passed away 25 years ago, reminds us that hope is a precious gift we give to one another. The future is uncertain, but uncertainty is not a reason for despair. We do not embrace hope because we know how the story will end. We embrace hope because the story is still being written—and each of us has some part in writing it.

  • Cinnamon Tea?

    “To me, the smell of  
    fresh-made coffee  
    is one of the  
    greatest inventions.”
    Hugh Jackman

    I’m not a coffee drinker. In fact, I despise the taste of coffee. The aroma of coffee, however, is something I thoroughly enjoy. Maybe it’s because it reminds me of the many times my paternal grandmother stayed at our home after various hospital visits during my childhood years. My parents were tea drinkers, but my grandmother needed her morning coffee, so the aroma filled our home each morning she stayed with us. Despite my distaste for the beverage, I cherish the smell.

    My son, Brendan, informed me that a Philz Coffee shop had recently opened in West San José, just two miles from our home. When I need a break from writing in my home office, or when above average temperatures lead me to seek places with air conditioning, I often escape to a local coffee shop to do my writing. There are several in our neighborhood that I’ve enjoyed, but at Brendan’s recommendation, I checked out Philz last week. What a treat!

    Until last week, I had never thought of putting cinnamon into black tea. Trust me,… it works. I ordered an iced black tea with cinnamon at the recommendation of Angelica, the personable barista on duty that afternoon. It was delicious — so much so that I made the mistake of ordering a second one. I didn’t sleep that night. Never before had I been affected in that way by caffeine. Lesson learned.

    I’ve now been to Philz five times in the past two weeks. One iced black tea with cinnamon is enough for one day, but I savor it, so it lasts for several hours while I work on my writing project. Yesterday I treated myself to a vanilla scone, as well. That, too, exceeded my expectations. What keeps me returning to Philz, though, is not just the tea or scones. It’s the vibe.

    I can’t say anything negative about Starbucks, Paris Baguette, Rose Café, or Peet’s Coffee. These establishments have served me well for many years. When I walk into Philz, however, it just feels different. I feel a sense of belonging. Two of the employees already know me by name, even though I’m a relatively new customer. The service they and their colleagues provide is both professional and cordial. The level of hospitality they offer is above and beyond what one would expect from a local coffee shop. 

    There’s even something different about the other customers. I’ve noticed that people clean up after themselves at Philz, something many customers don’t do in other coffee establishments. Many of them are also quite engaging, displaying a conscious awareness of others in the room. Such warmth creates a strong feeling of community.

    It’s a simple thing, I know. A neighborhood coffee shop. But yes, that’s what I’m grateful for today.

     

  • Back to Basics

    “Practicing gratitude 
    invites joy 
    into our lives.” 
    Brené Brown

    It sure is easy to get distracted. The negativity in the world around us is difficult to ignore. It can lead one to believe that the world is basically evil, but with a presence of good. I have always wanted to believe that the world is basically good, but with a presence of evil. By refocusing our lives on gratitude and consciously choosing to see the world through that lens, we can cultivate deeper joy, resilience, and purpose.

    The relentless pressures of today’s world — busy schedules, screens, finances, endless expectations, political turmoil — can lead to intense dissatisfaction, anxiety, and a constant sense that life isn’t good enough, that we don’t have enough, and that we ourselves are not enough. Fortunately, we have the power to choose where to place our attention and to refocus on the good in our lives.

    I recently took a short break from writing. I needed time to reorient myself to what’s really important in my life and to remind myself that gratitude changes how I interpret everything. It helps me to notice and appreciate blessings I once overlooked — people, nature, simple moments, and opportunities. It transforms challenges into teachable moments and setbacks into opportunities for growth. 

    Gratitude shifts my focus from what’s wrong to what’s right, from what’s missing to what is present, from self-centeredness to connection with others, and from dissatisfaction to having a greater appreciation for what I have already. 

    In a commencement address at BYU-Hawaii, university president John Kauwe said, “Through the lens of gratitude, we can clearly see the privileges that we enjoy, the blessings and opportunities all around us, even in the toughest conditions. Gratitude allows us to see happiness and satisfaction through the glare of challenging life events. Without it, we can be overwhelmed by envy, contempt, and misery, rendered completely unable to see the good that is in our lives.”  

    Refocusing on gratitude is a lifelong challenge and a daily decision. Those who know me might be familiar with a collection of polo shirts I wear regularly. The shirts are embroidered with the words Gratitude makes a difference. By choosing to see life around me through the lens of gratitude, I am able to transform not only my perspective, but my life. Gratitude doesn’t change everything around me, but it does change everything within me.

    As I approach the 20th anniversary of the beginning of my gratitude journey (November 2006), I need to make a more concerted effort to keep the focus of this blog, and of my life, on gratefulness. It really does make a difference.  

  • How It Is

    For what are you grateful this morning?

  • Day One

    “Act as if everything  
    depended on you;  
    trust as if everything  
    depended on God.”
    St. Ignatius of Loyola

    About six months ago, my friend and former colleague, Pierce Murphy, invited me to join him on a long walk in September. Pierce currently lives in West Virginia, so I asked where this walk would take place. He explained his plan in detail. I humbly declined the invitation. I knew it was something I could not do. 

    Today, at the age of 72, Pierce begins walking the Ignatian Camino. The journey begins in Loyola, Spain, the birthplace of Saint Ignatius, the founder of the Society of Jesus (Jesuits). This adventure, a demanding 400-mile journey of faith, reflection, and perseverance, will take approximately thirty days to complete. 

    A product of Jesuit education (Bellarmine College Preparatory, Santa Clara University, Gonzaga University), Pierce has devoted his life to serving others in countless ways. This Ignatian pilgrimage seems a fitting next chapter for Pierce — a physical challenge undertaken with the same spirit of humility, purpose, and service that has guided his entire life. 

    While I was not able to join Pierce on the pilgrimage, I will be traveling along with him in spirit. For each day of his journey, I will be reading daily reflections and prayers from the book Walking with St. Ignatius of Loyola. I will pray that each step bring him strength, peace, and a deeper sense of the journey still ahead.

    I invite you to keep Pierce in your thoughts and prayers throughout the next thirty days. 

    Pierce Murphy in
    San Francisco