Toddlers can make you feel as if you have violated some archaic law in their personal Koran and you should die, infidel.

Frederick Buechner is one of my favorite writers. The Eyes of the Heart is beautiful and wise, full of insight, charm, and tenderness.

That thing you had to force yourself to do-the actual act of writing-turns out to be the best part.

You are not your bank account, or your ambitiousness. You're not the cold clay lump with a big belly you leave behind when you die. You're not your collection of walking personality disorders. You are spirit, you are love.

You should not bring more items and hurdles to the obstacle course.

Help" is a prayer that is always answered. It doesn't matter how you pray--with your head bowed in silence, or crying out in grief, or dancing. Churches are good for prayer, but so are garages and cars and mountains and showers and dance floors. Years ago I wrote an essay that began, "Some people think that God is in the details, but I have come to believe that God is in the bathroom.

Gratitude, not understanding, is the secret to joy and equanimity.