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Religion

  • To receive thanks is to be at the portal of giving thanks

    November rolls around with its annual invitation to give thanks for the multiple harvests of goodness in our lives. For some, perhaps for many, the wagon of gratitude overflows. There is so much goodness, so much bountifulness, in their lives because benevolence is never overlooked. Grace abounds in every nook and cranny.

  • We can’t be filled until we’re emptied

    I know I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating. I’m not a techie. That’s both a disclosure and a caveat. The story is rather circular, but then so was my experience. So, here goes.

    The tale begins with mistaken judgment. I have a Kindle I rarely use. Thus it fills quickly with emails I’ve already received, noted, deleted or given response via my computer. The Kindle has long been marked as being a decision I made too rapidly and without complete information. It’s too small to be used as a doorstop and too big an admission to deny.

  • Goodness can be found in the same ol’ stuff

    Ask someone about their life on any particular day and perhaps receive this response: “It’s the same ol’, same ol’.” One might perceive a sense of boredom or negativity or lack of adventure and excitement to provide uplift. At the same time, there is goodness to be found in the ritual of routine. Knowing what to expect hones the ability to deal with the unexpected. It’s a paradox, to be sure, but it is also a reality.

  • Gone is the haze from my clouded eyes

    It’s over! It’s done! No more drops to dread or plastic patches to wear. No more closed eyes until the bell rings to end five minutes of patient sightlessness. I can sing along with Johnny Nash … well, in a strained, off-key mimicry of the singer and in a paraphrased poetic rendition:

    I can see clearly now, the cataracts are gone,

    I can see all obstacles in my way Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind

    It’s gonna be a bright, bright sunshiny day.

  • And a river of grace runs through it
  • The Boy in the Mirror becomes a symbol of all humanity

    I wish I could attach the video I recently received. It was one of a series depicting the glory of parenting sent to me by way of the adoring eyes of grandparents who are likely compiling a treasure trove of memories of a little boy whose hyphenated first name is already indicative of marvels to come. Of course, I must admit my bias toward such hyphenation!

  • Please understand me and please let me understand you

    “Please Understand Me,” a book written by Michael Kelsey, sits quietly among our library of tomes to be read and kept for continued perusing. Snuggled next to it is Dr. Charles Keating’s “Who We Are Is How We Pray.” Both are well worn, filled with annotated tabs and notes madly scribbled in the margins. Hubby Dear has marked them with his presence that they might mark him with theirs. I, for my part, have listened to the contents as H.D. offers them in multiple conversations over the years.

  • Lifelong learning, from womb to tomb, is a journey into wisdom
  • Florence visited and faith was rediscovered
  • Life is rediscovered at a pool party

    Come to the party … a pool party to celebrate whatever needs to be celebrated. Come and be with us. Celebrate the “us-ness” we are before it’s too late to remember it or too soon forgotten. Pray for sunshine to add a glow to our presence. Pray for a hold-back on rain which might evoke tears. Pray in thanksgiving for pools, parties, and people to love.