One step at a time, one day at a time, one breath and one prayer at a time. We keep walking and moving, even when the view in front of us is steep and rugged, when the view behind us reminds us of where we have been. We keep walking, even when we are reminded how much easier this was when we were younger and healthier. We keep moving because it’s much better than standing still and doing nothing. We …
Tag: encouragement
This weekend, Sue and I are in southern Wisconsin, and yesterday I walked through a broad swath of wildflower prairie adjacent to the place where we are staying. I stopped in amazement of what was before me: a noisy, ever-moving and always changing sea of grass, flowers, bees, birds and shifting light. When we stand in the midst of such natural glory, we stand at the center of creation, and we can begin to find our place in the world. …
BECAUSE OF A GLITCH WITH MY SERVER, I AM REPOSTING MY LAST BLOGPOST: If you read my blog regularly, you’ll certainly see a few repeating themes, among them the importance of living in awareness and gratitude of God and the critical nature of silent, contemplative prayer to do that. But there’s more, of course. As much as we need our times of silence, we need times of conversation and storytelling with friends new and old. …
Sometimes, your choice isn’t between the good and the bad. That would be easy. Sometimes, we need to choose between two very good options, and for those decisions we are called to a new kind of freedom. It is a freedom that stems from our faith, a freedom that says, “choose as best you can and then follow the path.” …
For it is in silence that we grow, that we form ideas, that we reach out for God. Silence must be sought out and cultivated. We must make room for it. We must make time for it, for it points us toward God. …
So caught up in the business and busy-ness of our work and lives, we can all sometimes feel guilty about doing “nothing.” But, of course, it is exactly this nothingness that we need. We need time to unplug, time to refuel, time to remove ourselves from the rest of life so that we can be, in fact, better for the rest of life, better for those who need us, better for the work that needs to be done. …
I slid into a pew, removed my coat and tried to breathe normally. I closed my eyes, soaking in the quiet of the stone walls and the lingering aroma of spent incense. In some ways, I didn’t want to be there at all because, when it came right down to it, I was angry. I’m always angry when I try to figure out what happened to my father’s life. …
The life of a person with a life-threatening or life-altering disease can be depressing and it can be terrifying. On good days, when our heads and hearts are in their right places, it can be also be majestic. Our lives can be frightfully ugly and they can be gloriously beautiful. But even when we seem to be in the midst of our lowest and most distressful times, we can choose to focus on the good and on God and his …
Over the course of my treatment, my chemotherapy drugs have caused what is known as “peripheral neuropathy.” In short, my hands and feet are numb. My size-ten feet tingle when I walk, which sounds a little like a line from a Broadway musical, but it’s far less entertaining. …
The moment the elevator door opens on the seventh floor and I enter the treatment center, I feel as if I am in a different world from the one where I spend the rest of my days and nights. It’s different for a number of reasons: the place itself, my fellow travelers in treatment, and my own state of mind and spirit. Chemoworld, I call it. …