Holy joy lies in the habit of murmuring thanks to God for the smallest of graces.
Like the wind, Grace finds us wherever we are and won't leave us however we were found.
Are stress and worry evidence of a soul too lazy, too undisciplined, to keep gaze fixed on God?
The only way to fight a feeling is with a feeling.
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.
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.