We mustn't reserve communing with God just for morning and evening prayers, or for weekly worship service, or for when we feel burdened. The goal is to realize that every moment of our lives is a meditation. Allow yourself to marvel at the wonder of God's work all around us. Throughout your day, let the sun, a tree, a piece of fruit remind you that everything you could ever want has been provided and can be found right here on earth.

Women work overtime, do double triple duty, juggle ten balls at once -- children, careers, husbands, schoolwork, housework, church work, and more work -- and when one of the balls drops, we think something is wrong with us.

Everything hinges on education. Without it, you can't advocate for proper health care, for housing, for a civil rights bill that ensures your rights.

We each have a finite number of heartbeats, a finite amount of time. But we have enough heartbeats and enough time to do what is important.

We know that material things don't offer contentment, but we still buy more-more of the props and gadgets our culture tells us we must have in order to be happy and "happening." Our addiction to consumption distracts us from seeing that we are disconnected from ourselves, from our truth and from one another. Any euphoria we gain from our material gains is fleeting at best.

How could I feel so miserable in the midst of such splendor? The question flashed through me all at once, not waiting for words to express it. The answer came more slowly: No one makes you angry. Anger, like love, is something you choose. Stunned, I sat down in the middle of the field I'd been walking through. I knew I needed to look within myself, let go of my anger and have a quiet talk with God.

We are here to love, not to judge. I'd been blaming and raging. I certainly wasn't loving my daughter that afternoon as God loves me. God's love doesn't insist on perfection or even good common sense. Why then should I demand more of those I love? With this tiny change in perspective I began to see the need for correction wasn't in my daughter, but in me.