Losses do that. One life-loss can infect the whole of a life. Like a rash that wears through our days, our sight becomes peppered with black voids. Now everywhere we look, we only see all that isn’t: holes, lack, deficiency.
I hunger for filling in a world that is starved.
I know the theological answers, but do my blood and my pulse?
Is the height of my chara joy dependent on the depths of my eucharisteo thanks?
Eucharisteo – thanksgiving – always precedes the miracle.
When I fully enter time’s swift current, enter into the current moment with the weight of all my attention, I slow the torrent with the weight of me all here.
This day is not a sieve, losing time. With each passing minute, each passing year, there’s this deepening awareness that I am filling, gaining time. We stand on the brink of eternity.
But wells don’t come without first begging to see the wells; wells don’t come without first splitting open hard earth, cracking back the lids. There’s no seeing God face-to-face without first the ripping.
Joy is always a function of gratitude – and gratitude is always a function of perspective.
The life that counts blessings discovers its yielding more than it seems.
Our fall is always first a failure to give thanks.
Satan’s sin becomes the first sin of all humanity: the sin of ingratitude. Adam and Eve are, simply, painfully ungrateful for what God gave.
It’s impossible to give thanks and simultaneously feel fear.
All God makes is good. Can it be that that which seems to oppose the will of God actually is used of Him to accomplish the will of God?
Poor communication doesn’t disconnect souls. It’s the disconnected souls who poorly communicate.
God reveals Himself in rearview mirrors.
Where ever you are be all there.
Can God be counted on? Count blessings and find out how many of His bridges have already held.
Parenting is about preparing children to get along with each other, to get along with you and without you, and that it’s impossible to get along without God.
Pick up a yardstick to measure your life against anyone else’s, and you’ve just picked up a stick and beaten up your own soul.