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 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

  • Labor Day

    “The morning had dawned clear and cold, with a crispness that hinted at the end of summer.”
    George R. Martin

  • Game On!

    “A marriage that  
    can survive a nightly  
    game of Yahtzee  
    can survive anything.” 
    Unknown

    41 years of marriage. Like most (all?) marriages, ours has had it’s ups and downs. In the long run, marriages are often strengthened not by grand romantic gestures or getaways to exotic locations, but by small, repeated moments of connection. Kathy and I have found such moments in playing Yahtzee! together each night after dinner. This is a simple, shared ritual which has provided us with laughter, conversation, companionship, and a greater sense of “us.”

    For many years after our sons were on their own, our after-dinner routine involved Kathy turning on the television in the living room and me retreating to my office to write. A few months ago, we made a commitment to consistently choose each other’s company over the vices which had allowed us to drift apart. The simplicity of the activity doesn’t require planning, money, or leaving home. Each night’s game is a small investment in our relationship.

    When we’re playing Yahtzee together, it’s like we’re kids again. We are able to escape our roles as parents, caregivers, and housekeepers. In place of these often exhausting responsibilities, we enjoy friendly competition, pleasant surprises, a bit of teasing, and plenty of laughter.

    Sometimes we just play the game, focusing our attention and conversation on the roll of the dice and the choices confronting us with each roll. At other times, the game provides something for us to do while we converse about more substantive things, allowing our sharing to feel both natural and meaningful.

    We play three rounds each night. Sometimes I win. Sometimes Kathy wins. More often than not, one of us wins two out of the three rounds. Whatever the outcome, we celebrate the completion of the game by treating ourselves to mini-Drumsticks — you know, the scoop of vanilla ice cream dipped in chocolate sauce sitting atop a sugar cone.  

    Night after night, our Yahtzee games provide challenging decisions, memorable victories, and dramatic rolls of the dice which have created a wonderfully playful rivalry we both look forward to continuing.

    Strengthening a decades-long marriage doesn’t always require professional counseling, major problem solving, or planning extraordinary experiences together. Five dice, a scorecard, and 30-45 minutes together has become a meaningful daily ritual. It’s not about the game. It’s not about who wins or loses. The real benefit of playing Yahtzee together is the decision to regularly show up, pay attention, laugh, and enjoy each other’s company. And we do.

  • They Call Me “Papa”

    “You will never look  
    back on life and think,  
    ‘I’ve spent too much  
    time with my  
    grandchildren.’”

    Author Unknown

    I’ve been focused on gratitude for almost twenty years now.  There is much I’ve learned about being grateful. One particular lesson is this: Gratitude becomes more meaningful when it is connected to the people we love.

    Kathy and I have been blessed with five grandchildren: Liam (12), Emily (9), Penelope (6), Scarlett (4), and Henry (2). I am especially grateful for the quality time I’ve been able to spend with all five of these little ones. I’m grateful to live close enough to them to be an active part of their lives. And I’m grateful for the unique and positive relationship I share with each of them.

    When I speak of “quality time,” I’m not referring just to the big events like Christmas, Easter, Halloween, or birthdays. While those are always enjoyable, it’s the ordinary moments I get to spend with them — talking, playing, reading, sharing meals, going for a walk, and just enjoying each other’s company — that make my experience with them truly extraordinary. This type of time, which I might also describe as “sacred time,” requires more than simply my presence. It requires my attentiveness — listening to their stories, noticing their interests, laughing together, and giving them my full attention.

    The word “grandkids” is a collective term, but I have five unique relationships with my five grandchildren. Liam turns 12 next week. He is quickly approaching adolescence and beginning to see the world with greater interest and independence. Emily, at age 9, continues to develop interests, abilities, and a stronger sense of identity. 

    6-year-old Penny displays a level of curiosity and discovery which is characteristic of a young person in the early school years. Scarlett offers a constant display of imagination, enthusiasm, and spontaneity, perhaps even more so than the average 4-year-old. And Henry,… ah, yes,… Henry. He provides the wonder, affection, and discovery of full-blown toddlerhood. As different as these kids are from each other, I appreciate each one for who they are, rather than having the misguided expectation that they all fit into some pre-determined mold.

    Of course, I cherish the opportunity to be a teacher and mentor to my grandkids, sharing wisdom I gained through the years. I want to share family stories, the importance of being kind to others, the value of honesty, patience, and a sense of humor. Perhaps most of all, I want to share my passion for gratitude.

    As a career educator, I’m well-aware that learning is a lifelong task, so it should be no surprise to hear me acknowledge that I learn much from my grandkids. They’ve taught me to remain curious, to live more fully in the present moment, to laugh more often, to see things through fresh eyes, to forgive quickly, and to be open to the wonders our ever-changing world. It’s important for us to realize that wisdom does not travel in only one direction.

    Finally, one more word about gratitude. I am tremendously grateful for the opportunity to observe my five grandkids growing through the different stages of their lives. It’s a privilege to see them mature and blossom into their own unique human beings. 

    Being “Papa” to these five young ones is more than simply being the father of their fathers. Being “Papa” offers me a priceless opportunity to know them, spend time with them, love them unconditionally, and continue to learn alongside them. 

    I wholeheartedly agree with the popular humorous saying, “If I had known grandchildren were this much fun, I would have had them first!”

  • Free to Hope

    “However bad life may seem, there is always something you can do and succeed at. Where there’s life, there’s hope.”

    Stephen Hawking