Rabindranath Tagore writes that the song he wanted to sing has never happened because he spent his days "stringing and unstringing" his instrument. Whenever I read these lines a certain sadness enters my soul. I get so preoccupied with the details and pressure of my schedule, with the hurry and worry of life, that I miss the song of goodness which is waiting to be sung through me.
Joyce RuppI will offer thanks for someone who paid a price for offering compassion to me. I will place myself beneath the cross of another who needs my compassion.
Joyce Rupp