What if there is enough?

What women taught me about abundance, communal care, and coming home to enoughness. (Locals—would you join us for Nourish Her?)

Apr 24, 2025

Hello friends,

Welcome to an Inbox Inhale—where you're invited to pause, return to your body, and remember what is true.
This week I remembered: Enoughness isn’t earned alone—it lives in how we care for one another.

Abundance lives in the giving and receiving of love.
It’s generative. It grows back. It resurrects.
Isn’t that, after all, the heart of Easter?

This weekend, I was surprised to remember that Easter was my favorite holiday as a little girl. Surprised—because I’ve been carrying grief around the church and how the institution so often harms the marginalized—the very people Jesus drew near and loved.

My memory didn’t come from sermons or declarations of “good news.”
It came from something quieter:
Love that was particular. Ridiculously abundant. And deeply feminine.

“Devany Alert!”

Every Easter weekend, we’d gather at my godmother’s mountain house in Salida, Colorado. Twenty-five of my extended family packed into bunk beds, circled around tables for warm, noisy meals—and it felt full in every sense of the word.

On Sunday mornings, we’d drive down to a small church where the congregation was small—mostly just us. My family filled nearly the entire center section of pews. Nothing flashy. But sitting shoulder to shoulder, trying to match my aunt’s warm alto as hymns rose through the little sanctuary, I felt like I belonged.

After church, we’d head to Patio Pancake—the best and only diner in town—for fluffy pancakes, biscuits and gravy, dot game battles, and creamer tower competitions with my cousins. But the real magic waited at the house.

As we pulled up to my godmother’s sprawling ranch-style house, I’d gasp with joy every time. The yard looked like it had exploded—pastel eggs scattered across the grass, cellophane bags filled with treats crinkling in the wind, sparkling in the sun. It was a felt-sense of wonder.

We’d rush inside to change out of our starched church clothes and whine until the adults let us line up at the front door—youngest to oldest.

Released like puppies, we’d tumble into the yard shouting,
“Devany Alert! Andrew Alert!”

Here’s what I later realized— that every egg had a name. That’s why you’d hear the shouts—“Anika Alert! Juleigh Alert!”—echoing through the yard. Every treat was chosen on purpose and we’d shout the name when we found it. My sister always got Pringles (her Lenten favorite). I got chocolate-covered marshmallows (I always gave up chocolate, naturally). After scavenging the front lawn, we’d spill into the backyard beneath the tall cottonwoods, shrieking over what we’d found.

It wasn’t about who got the most.
It was about being thought of.
No one was forgotten.

Now, as a mom, I see more clearly the enormous labor of love that created that experience. The night before, all the aunts would quietly gather in my grandmother’s back room. I think I knew something was happening, but the magic of love let me keep playing and not pay attention. What I now understand is that they weren’t just preparing for their own kids—they had found and bought goodies for every kid, not just their own. And my uncles? They snuck out of the diner breakfast to hide the eggs, happy to join the vision. Everyone had a part. Everyone helped make it special.

It was abundance. Love in action.
Enough for everyone—no one forgotten.

Noticing Scarcity in the World Around Us

This year, after four egg hunts with my kids (I know—I’m a little unhinged), something different caught my attention and stirred my childhood memory. I’m so grateful for the care behind these gatherings—parents and volunteers creating joy for our kids. And still, I noticed the elbows. The scramble. The urgency of kids trying to make sure they got something.

It’s no one’s fault. But it reflects something deeper in our culture.

We live in a system that whispers: Hurry. There won’t be enough.
Under late-stage capitalism, we’re trained to hustle for what we need, compete for care, and prove our worth just to feel okay. Those with power get access; the rest are left to scramble.

And the scarcity is real. Medicaid is being slashed. Migrant families are denied care, safety, and belonging. The LGBTQIA+ community faces ongoing attacks and the shrinking of safe spaces. Public education is underfunded and undercut. Rights are being stripped. Layoffs keep coming.

The systems meant to protect the most vulnerable are crumbling.

It’s heavy. It’s frightening. And it would be easy to believe: there just isn’t enough.

But our bodies know a deeper truth.
We are connected. We are meant to care for each other in order to thrive.

I saw it this weekend—moms checking on kids who were left behind, children sharing from their own baskets. Communal care is still alive.

And when fear tries to isolate us, we can remember: we still have each other.

Maybe not every name was written in marker this year.
But the truth remains: enoughness lives in how we care for one another.

Abundance is generative.
Fear tells us otherwise—fear makes us hoard, tighten, and pull away.
But when we give—to each other and to ourselves—abundance expands.
Love and care are not in short supply. They grow.

The Feminine Knows How to Nourish

This Easter, I smiled thinking of my bevy of aunts—how the women in my life circled around an ancient truth:
We’re designed to nourish one another.

They didn’t just care for their own kids. They made sure no one was forgotten.
They showed me that abundance is something we create in community.

If this truth feels far away—or if it feels close and you want to amplify it—I’d love to invite you to Nourish Her, a gentle space for women who are often holding everything to tend to themselves and each other.

Saturday, May 10th | 12:30–2:00 PM
Yoga Six – Highlands Ranch
$30 to join.
📞 Call to reserve: 720-903-2122

Maybe women have always known.
Maybe we’re simply being invited to remember.

The Divine Feminine reminds us:
We’re not meant to do this alone.
Abundance isn’t a solo pursuit—it’s a shared, creative act.
Our circle holds space for everyone’s thriving.
And our vision holds belonging—for all.

A Gentle Noticing

Remembering the abundance of my childhood, I tried something this week—each morning, I gently whispered to myself:

There will be enough.
There will be enough time.
There will be enough love.
There will be enough.

And something softened.

I called the friend who came to mind.
I noticed the wind creating a tide in the water and stayed a little longer.
I gave my partner time when he needed it, and it didn’t feel like I was giving something up.

There was enough time to hug my kid.
Enough space to breathe.
Enough room to notice what mattered.
Could you offer yourself this same kindness?

Care and love aren’t in short supply.
They expand.

The Divine Exchange

I keep thinking about the message of Easter—not just the blooming flowers and signs of new life, but the posture Christ took toward resurrection. Arms open wide—offering and receiving, all at once.

Cynthia Bourgeault calls it a kind of Divine Exchange: the path of self-emptying and receiving love.

“It is not a ladder but a circle that brings us to God:
the continuously renewed giving and receiving
which in its totality is where God dwells.”
The Wisdom Jesus: Transforming Heart and Mind.

That changes everything.

The cross is no longer a symbol of domination, but of surrender.
Giving becomes receiving. Receiving becomes giving.
A trusting posture of love that says: even when things feel scarce—the cycle of love continues.

That’s the kind of love I want to practice.
That’s the kind our world needs.

May it be us.

We will not forget each other.
We will not leave each other to survive alone.
Our circle holds space for everyone’s thriving.
Our vision holds belonging—for all.

There will be enough.
And you are already enough.

With love,
Devany
www.illuminewithin.com

🌿 Nourish Her: A Mini Retreat for Women

Saturday, May 10
12:30–2:00 PM
Yoga Six, Highlands Ranch
$30 | Call the studio to reserve your spot (720-903-2122)

This gentle mini-retreat is for women who give so much and are ready to receive.
We’ll practice gentle movement, meditation, and quiet reflection to reconnect with the nurturing, wise, and creative essence of the feminine that so often gets tired or stretched thin.

Whether you mother children, support others in your work, or carry the invisible weight of being the strong one—this space is for you.

There’s nothing to prove or produce.
Just a space to be held.
Come as you are.

Illumine Within News:

If you’d like to receive monthly updates on my offerings, you can sign up for my Illumine Within News newsletter at www.illuminewithin.com (just scroll to the bottom).

Locals - In-Person Lunch Break Yoga! (Fridays, 12:15pm-1:15pm). Sign up here.
Summer Centering Circles (online & in person) - join the waitlist here.
Sacred Conversations: Emotional Awareness in Compassionate Trust-Building Dialogue with my colleagues Rachel Reed and Marisa Wandeler starting March 6, 2025
Spiritual conversations should be safe, honoring, and emotionally intelligent, yet too often, they become spaces where emotions are dismissed, identities are misunderstood, and tough topics are bypassed. Sacred Conversations is a live, 13-week facilitated course designed to help spiritual directors and companions, clergy, chaplains, mentors, and seekers develop emotional intelligence and create meaningful, non-coercive dialogue.
If you’re looking for a director, I recommend the Anam Cara apprentices & peregrini directory.

Inbox Inhales

Discussion about this post

Ready for more?