Honest to Pete, if there were even the remotest possibility that there was something that could/would go wrong, no matter how insignificant the thing or remote the possibility, I would work up a good worry about it.
The language of my soul is Christian. I have always known I belong to Christ, even when my head has told me differently. God has taken many shapes: grandmother, diamond, witch, sage, ocean, light, and utter darkness and emptiness, to name a few. But always there is that incarnating, dying and resurrecting aspect, that Christ.
One thing that I hope has come out of the COVID-19 pandemic is the importance of community. Looking at the destruction in Ukraine, not only of property and safety but the bonds of community between people who lived, worked, raised their families, prayed, and laughed together, we see what loss of community can mean. In times of stress and loss, members of the community usually come together to support and console each other.
An aura of goodness she seemed to be emitting caught my attention. When our glances met, I was drawn towards her. Inside the box were dozens of sets of tiny, cheap earrings that she said she’d made. She asked if I’d like a pair.
“the universe is thoroughly relational and in the framework of love.” Or, more precisely, “the physical structure of the universe is love.”
“You have marked me as holy and beloved,
and have filled my cup to overflowing.”
“To brand the lambs – and to give them their vaccines and medicine – the ranch hands will pick a lamb up using both arms. The little guy will fight tooth and nail, wiggle and squirm, and there is nothing at all passive about him. All of the sheep in the pen will jump up and over each other to avoid the helping-hands of the ranchers.”
“This is what we learn at Christ’s table, and it carried us through our lives as it will carry you. We learn that life is fleeting, and that the only thing that matters is love. Love wins out over death every single time.”
“He had no right to expect anything other than condemnation. He had denied his Savior three times to save his own neck, and he deserved nothing more than to be cast out.
Instead, he got breakfast. Breakfast, and forgiveness. There between the white-hot memory of two fires, and three denials.”
Recognition Resurrection plus ten: is the shock wearing off or setting in? That time when the child was lost three days, three hours, three minutes
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