04/18/2026
A reflection by St. Raphaela Center Director of Ecological Stewardship, Phil Carlino
We’re planting groundcovers — sedges, ferns, a few flowers — beneath the trees. These are not flashy plants. They ask you to slow down and appreciate something quieter: texture, form, the way a fern frond unfurls, the way a sedge catches the light. They are simple. They are humble. And they are essential.
Ecologists call what we’re creating a “soft landing.” Throughout the growing season, caterpillars feed high in the canopy, hidden among the leaves. When the time comes for them to transform, they let go. They fall. And what meets them at the bottom determines everything.
All they need is the simplest, most humble home — a bed of leaves, a few fronds, living ground. A place to rest and undergo the hidden transformation they were made for. But in most modern landscapes, that place has been taken from them. Not out of malice — out of tidiness. The rake. The mower. The leaf blower. The urge to control, to dominate, to make creation conform to our idea of what it should look like. We clear the ground bare and call it clean. And in doing so, we close the door on the smallest and most vulnerable lives without even knowing they were there.
God is always choosing the humblest place. St. Raphaela Mary knew this. She spent her last thirty-two years hidden away — so hidden that sisters in her own congregation didn’t know she was the foundress. Some of the last words she spoke were “humble, humble, humble.”
That’s what the Ignatian tradition means when it teaches us to find God in all things — not just the grand and the beautiful, but especially the small, the hidden, the easily overlooked. It’s an invitation to put ourselves into the smallest perspective and discover that God so wonderfully made all of it. That His mystery is revealed through all of creation — even in the humble fall from a tree into a humble soft landing. We are preparing a place of welcome for the smallest creatures on this property and saying: there is room for you here.
That’s the work of reparation: healing a break in the web of life by mending what was broken.
What soft landin