This song is a kitchen-table story about my Grandma Chavez—a woman who fed people, walked through grief, laughed with her whole body, and believed love doesn’t end when life does. Told through sung verses and spoken memories, in English and Spanish, it traces faith practiced quietly, work done from scratch, and a love story that never needed explaining. It ends where she believed it would: with names remembered, and love still waiting.

Prayers with Busy Hands

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Just a wayward paralegal residing in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, literally in the shadow of Pike’s Peak.

Prayers with Busy Hands

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