I recently had the privilege of spending time with a vibrant group of young adults from the JUCAR (Juventud Carmelita) youth group at Our Lady of Mount Carmel Parish in Joliet, Illinois. Right away, I was struck by their joy—real, tangible joy—and their deep love for Carmel. It wasn’t just something they talked about; it radiated from who they were.

Now, I say “kids,” but that’s not quite accurate. These young adults were thoughtful, grounded, and full of passion. They came to share testimonies about what JUCAR has meant in their lives, and every single one of them spoke about community, family, and faith—three pillars that anchor them as they navigate early adulthood.

As I spent time with them—both on camera and behind the scenes—I kept thinking: These are the future of Carmel. We often picture Carmel as God’s garden: a place that nourishes our faith, grounds us spiritually, and reminds us of His presence in the world around us. But that day, I saw something more. I saw Carmel growing through them, just as they’ve grown within it.

It’s a beautiful, living exchange. As they grow in Carmel, Carmel grows in them.

The Pope has said that Carmel teaches the world how to pray. That strikes a chord. Contemplative prayer is at the heart of Carmel—prayer that’s deeply personal and quietly transformative. It’s not always about speaking, asking, or even doing. Sometimes, it’s simply about being. Living. Listening.

Think of John of the Cross, Teresa of Avila, Thérèse of Lisieux… their prayers weren’t always words. Often, their lives were the prayer. And central to all of it was listening—hearing God in silence, in stillness, in the ordinary.

That kind of silence is more than just the absence of sound. It’s the quieting of the soul. The clearing of mental clutter. It’s making space, real space, to hear God.

A couple of days after being with the JUCAR group, my son came home for the weekend. We did what we always do—went for a walk in nature. He’s a nature enthusiast, so we headed out into the woods, talking, laughing, listening to birds, and catching glimpses of wildlife. It wasn’t “quiet” in the literal sense—there were sounds all around us—but my mind and spirit were calm. At peace.

That, to me, is God’s garden. Not just a physical place, but a spiritual one. A space where we can truly experience silence… where we can listen, hear, and understand God.

Maybe that’s what today’s youth are discovering too, in their own way. They’re growing up in a world that’s louder and busier than ever. But that also means, when they do encounter true silence—real, soul-level stillness—it hits deeper. It shapes them. Grounds them.

And that gives me hope.

Because they are not just growing in Carmel. They’re helping Carmel grow. They’re carrying it into a new chapter, watering it with their energy and faith, just as Carmel continues to nourish and shape them.

Sometimes, it’s the smallest voices—the newest shoots in the garden—that have the greatest impact.