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Religion

  • The sacrament of scrapbooking
  • To wait for inspiration is to walk by faith

    I was in the middle ages of my life and a graduate student when I met Patrick Mooney, a priest-poet and guest lecturer. His engaging presence and presentation evoked a desire to serve in our student minds and hearts. Though I was then less inclined to speak my thoughts, surely fearful of receiving a reprimand for my audacity and a lower grade to boot, I yet dared to offer a small critique. “Your photographs only depict fair-skinned, blue-eyed children with curly blond hair. Where are the others?”

  • Got lemons? Make lemonade

    I can recall hearing my elders, not necessarily my parents, offering me a bromide to assuage my anger and/or angst with the dubious gifts life brought. Their motivation was clearly understood as an effort to ease my way into acceptance of whatever irksome event, person or experience waited in the wings of the day. They meant well, even good, but I roiled at the saccharine sense of the message. At least, I perceived it as the “spoonful of sugar that would make the medicine go down” and I was not at all convinced I wanted or needed the prescribed solution.

  • Wasting time is praiseworthy and prayerful
  • Quiet time is both priceless and costly

    I recently came across a quote of Hans Margolius: “Only in quiet waters do things mirror themselves undistorted. Only in a quiet mind is adequate perception of the world.” It is an arresting thought — and a compelling one. Added information seemed to pour into my mind via my faithful attention to incoming mail! I was inundated with tidbits from here, there, and everywhere which universally indicated a need to find, treasure, embrace, and hold sacred the offering of quiet time which comes daily into my life.

  • It takes courage to live on the edge

    I’m a scaredy-cat. There you have it, in a nutshell. I may stomp and shout, proclaim and exclaim, but I am yet a scaredy-cat. I’m afraid of heights as well as depths. Although I have forsaken swimming these days, in the past I would never go to the deep end of the pool or stay where my feet could not touch the ocean floor. My heart pounds when I hear things go bump in the night. I see the poison-laden tentacles of a man-of-war wrapping around me when it’s only seaweed. You get the picture. I’m a scaredy-cat.

  • We are gifted with the ability and opportunities to ask questions
  • What it was, was football

    The season is over, or so they say. No more marathon, channel switching, team-groaning Sundays, Mondays or whatever. I have never been able to grasp the purpose of the game, nor understand its rules. So, season’s end only means I get to see the programs I love.

  • Become who we really are and discover the beauty of being

    Frank Sinatra crooned “I gotta be me” and Sammy Davis Jr. joined him in proclaiming the need to be who they were meant to be. I often wondered if they were both searching for an identity beyond fame and fortune. I thought about the fans who screamed their adulation as well as those who sought a place in the spotlight in which both men found prominence. 

  • The magnetic force of listening shouts ‘See me!’