tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16899942513036566722024-03-18T12:07:31.877-04:00A Path Through . . .Kevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15773311904126582711noreply@blogger.comBlogger4886125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1689994251303656672.post-65334207742188165892024-03-18T12:07:00.000-04:002024-03-18T12:07:00.124-04:00Things Without Words<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg8x7LaeI_J6o-LYrzpgWvE3VndIuB5gwR7pkBGcEtWF7KoSPI2rBXgph4BgtFVTRkaeYqoq-xVO8SppkqTYYZri7rRpHUk37dslhEhUEHDO8C1-y8ICTeiGcypGEHJUWoyxJFjXNN6fsKKGHZ4O4cn9r8U3g6skpSYNEyb2TfppWuCAqEKpE_4kdBmhAV/s1024/1-iris%20in%20sun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="681" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg8x7LaeI_J6o-LYrzpgWvE3VndIuB5gwR7pkBGcEtWF7KoSPI2rBXgph4BgtFVTRkaeYqoq-xVO8SppkqTYYZri7rRpHUk37dslhEhUEHDO8C1-y8ICTeiGcypGEHJUWoyxJFjXNN6fsKKGHZ4O4cn9r8U3g6skpSYNEyb2TfppWuCAqEKpE_4kdBmhAV/w640-h426/1-iris%20in%20sun.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Found <a href="https://live.staticflickr.com/161/436840200_0f628832b3_b.jpg">here</a>)</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div>Sky reflected on the lake</div><div>a wave washing broken shells</div><div>what the earth does to buried things</div><div>that which the oboe plays the sound</div><div>of a shadow stirring</div><div>the shift of a promise</div><div>the brine of your iris the way regret</div><div>sees backward deceit under a brow</div><div>a squint that quiverers dust</div><div>closing an iron jaw<br /><br />~Susan Cowger</div>Kevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15773311904126582711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1689994251303656672.post-13866389919682651962024-03-17T23:55:00.012-04:002024-03-18T09:54:57.894-04:00John 12:23-26<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQWBZ94MkHnWvZdCoMny4HRSLF9XvvHrg0H77KCNl0N6v5VGZbkkuVoA61550pkLB-i3bTJRpG0v7qEBmTyUuJ0t54GW9zSO2-KWTOUtpmCfm52vJx2ed-kHNjE6xtwIxMjpgCrUciWiBjfxju-l6CzRGo38QyvyqY8ErKyVmGq5R_PwjEatmi-fTh96ur/s612/1-john.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="410" data-original-width="612" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQWBZ94MkHnWvZdCoMny4HRSLF9XvvHrg0H77KCNl0N6v5VGZbkkuVoA61550pkLB-i3bTJRpG0v7qEBmTyUuJ0t54GW9zSO2-KWTOUtpmCfm52vJx2ed-kHNjE6xtwIxMjpgCrUciWiBjfxju-l6CzRGo38QyvyqY8ErKyVmGq5R_PwjEatmi-fTh96ur/w640-h428/1-john.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div>Jesus answered them,<div> “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified.<br />Amen, amen, I say to you,<br /> unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies,<br /> it remains just a grain of wheat;<br /> but if it dies, it produces much fruit.<br />Whoever loves his life loses it,<br /> and whoever hates his life in this world<br /> will preserve it for eternal life.<br />Whoever serves me must follow me,<br /> and where I am, there also will my servant be.<br />The Father will honor whoever serves me.</div>Kevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15773311904126582711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1689994251303656672.post-32254901578859008712024-03-16T06:01:00.000-04:002024-03-16T06:01:00.278-04:00Give Me Thyself<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitFwjlB5nBk5QYBROOIUzTA1bRobS_OJrtAX9v1ysDE5mWuBfE-gvrtgqPOYVrTCAGhymvmA4vwPdAT2w34wr97YctDsdzvCA5vaTECuGcY3mpB1wS6LVZjdvsjqcfuEi0r9NVb-gN6d0sAKFx_xnsmVH0B1QJ6nUd4kUVx_2zScmgx92fKiY71NXE8Zqq/s720/1-Julian%20of%20Norwich.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="508" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitFwjlB5nBk5QYBROOIUzTA1bRobS_OJrtAX9v1ysDE5mWuBfE-gvrtgqPOYVrTCAGhymvmA4vwPdAT2w34wr97YctDsdzvCA5vaTECuGcY3mpB1wS6LVZjdvsjqcfuEi0r9NVb-gN6d0sAKFx_xnsmVH0B1QJ6nUd4kUVx_2zScmgx92fKiY71NXE8Zqq/w452-h640/1-Julian%20of%20Norwich.jpg" width="452" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(<i>Julian of Norwich</i> - found <a href="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/536c4d_47d9adbc54674dbf939c51eab500ecb7~mv2.jpg/v1/fill/w_508,h_720,al_c,q_90/536c4d_47d9adbc54674dbf939c51eab500ecb7~mv2.jpg">here</a>)</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div>“God, of thy goodness, give me Thyself;<br />for Thou art enough for me,<br />and I can ask for nothing less<br />that can be full honor to Thee.<br />And if I ask anything that is less,<br />ever shall I be in want,<br />for only in Thee have I all.”<div><br /></div><div>~Julian of Norwich</div>Kevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15773311904126582711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1689994251303656672.post-77388937509477778002024-03-15T12:05:00.006-04:002024-03-15T12:05:00.244-04:00Peace<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv2QPzQQl4s7iP5RfPOhSuSFGNLQWay3n7F-Mml6okqkT8ZTmmsBSrDvKYK9T2rfG6A_2AP-DDFsWlv8rq3kOnHeWrLc8e_r9zZTck336_LtBwqXsoN8vRXzlEfhxx_5qzi95yJbbrCpnk3LqyUhflrLHoV4SI26ei-w5AwlGTr9j_-j5FO-b_Pivxs7Nm/s1024/1-peace-water.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="681" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv2QPzQQl4s7iP5RfPOhSuSFGNLQWay3n7F-Mml6okqkT8ZTmmsBSrDvKYK9T2rfG6A_2AP-DDFsWlv8rq3kOnHeWrLc8e_r9zZTck336_LtBwqXsoN8vRXzlEfhxx_5qzi95yJbbrCpnk3LqyUhflrLHoV4SI26ei-w5AwlGTr9j_-j5FO-b_Pivxs7Nm/w640-h426/1-peace-water.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Found <a href="https://live.staticflickr.com/5027/5625992051_90be37ce03_b.jpg">here</a>)</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div>Not as the world gives, not the victor’s peace, <br />Not to be fought for, hard-won, or achieved, <br />Just grace and mercy, gratefully received: <br />An undeserved and unforeseen release, <br />As the cold chains of memory and wrath <br />Fall from our hearts before we are aware, <br />Their rusty locks all picked by patient prayer, <br />Till closed doors open, and we see a path <br />Descending from a source we cannot see; <br />A path that must be taken, hand in hand, <br />Only by those, forgiving and forgiven, <br />Who see their saviour in their enemy. <br />So reach for me. We’ll cross our broken land, <br />And make each other bridges back to Heaven. <br /><br />~Malcolm GuiteKevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15773311904126582711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1689994251303656672.post-43163185516473052842024-03-14T12:02:00.001-04:002024-03-14T12:02:56.989-04:00By Patience and Prayer<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglHxcI8ZS5onZVGfFrdZ2ejtf5WLZ-ASh2zXQhM186XZOhgKsD5ADDdBL-qHva9LyuOL9xzXQ9nBc6UwOYR9916MHFHSDbKSAMnDG_qc_mfKLDQOY1-s1M2b6IEgI7sbtlOt69Ma-e98eBiikiKZctEpodwSjvz3520FT6veJED5qw7X1OJ-8XlLN8opeq/s550/1-st%20mark%20the%20ascetic.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="351" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglHxcI8ZS5onZVGfFrdZ2ejtf5WLZ-ASh2zXQhM186XZOhgKsD5ADDdBL-qHva9LyuOL9xzXQ9nBc6UwOYR9916MHFHSDbKSAMnDG_qc_mfKLDQOY1-s1M2b6IEgI7sbtlOt69Ma-e98eBiikiKZctEpodwSjvz3520FT6veJED5qw7X1OJ-8XlLN8opeq/w408-h640/1-st%20mark%20the%20ascetic.jpg" width="408" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(<i>St. Mark the Ascetic</i> - found <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj3DVWLBaYlYcCeJi6__90Kqfm6beV69bEdNYHkiglOGLkDP7q-hkzGnWKwGAvJSh41V2PEsIx8SHHfl4M2wcvGQza2WvFaRyU04TvQVTO3dih5g3UbyjZexPHPqLuRfQ-sPwQzvz5vmL8O0IsZx0TMJ91nfC0cyWe801rQdxhQxcPIjQKEFaaV7EmAzA=w408-h640">here</a>)</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div>“Conquer temptations by patience and prayer. If you oppose them without these, you will fall all the more severely.”<div>~St. Mark the Ascetic</div>Kevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15773311904126582711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1689994251303656672.post-3885328563314054492024-03-13T06:01:00.007-04:002024-03-13T06:01:00.237-04:00Dilemma<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNJUGMzxVNzLw_3gNfSUbhHQfoyhaIC5-yBzBwsdXJ9GrTCmKV1HDoqsc42VE2lxueS94J5ugnNhM44zJBkv5c5KEw92xdvoWzMNHTslW7M_pVX9nJ8UrZetZe_s5FcaP50mWpkqwimZKd-FksPJKzwuLuSeko8t271ZZ5ixkyyVgUUBwJ_X_fT7IcLeyA/s831/1-sky-city.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="831" data-original-width="731" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNJUGMzxVNzLw_3gNfSUbhHQfoyhaIC5-yBzBwsdXJ9GrTCmKV1HDoqsc42VE2lxueS94J5ugnNhM44zJBkv5c5KEw92xdvoWzMNHTslW7M_pVX9nJ8UrZetZe_s5FcaP50mWpkqwimZKd-FksPJKzwuLuSeko8t271ZZ5ixkyyVgUUBwJ_X_fT7IcLeyA/w562-h640/1-sky-city.JPG" width="562" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Found <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/736x/84/3c/e7/843ce7f0d2bff5c3d0cc0d87a633b4d6.jpg">here</a>)</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div>You asked me if you should still go adventuring <br />For more beauty, new lands, strange faces, <br />For other moons and suns over other cities <br />And seas and forests you have never beheld; <br />Or whether you should sit down quietly <br />And con over all you have gathered, <br />Fingering your memories, counting your spoils, <br />Letting each day pass without comment <br />Indistinguishably—a day only, a passage of hours, <br />Without one blood-beat of discovery or pain. <br /><br />How could I answer in words? <br />In any case I am sick of words and talk. <br />So I drew you silently to the window <br />Opening upon the spring twilight. <br />There was a deep orange overglow from the sun, <br />And a young moon with a star in her hand; <br />The last swifts dashed screaming over the roofs, <br />While the first bats swerved noiselessly across the square; <br />There was a murmur of talk and of moving feet <br />As people strolled and met after work; <br />A peasant’s cart went by with a man driving <br />And a girl holding a candle in a paper shade, <br />And someone played a mandoline. <br /><br />Were you answered? I do not know, <br />For after a long silence you spoke of other things. <br />But I do not know any other silence to give you. <br /><br />~Richard AldingtonKevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15773311904126582711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1689994251303656672.post-81585858437870381112024-03-12T06:01:00.004-04:002024-03-12T06:01:00.133-04:00Jesus, The Healer<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6vCUf73LxURPlxxk_EykmnryubrL6D-fPUl54nA-LrIacqFQk_BRxkNKSxjKi6KqQS5k0ELeB0wrOtl5_lH_R1OO8xsZBc9eZJXP3WFs9hHFIDbri6BbPz2VJCo_BgPGE28wPXXecU1PN09T3w46OTLgnEt4nM9i_HUkri8moWQg5aWvLFsmDyrokrxNR/s710/1-Jesus%20heals.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="441" data-original-width="710" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6vCUf73LxURPlxxk_EykmnryubrL6D-fPUl54nA-LrIacqFQk_BRxkNKSxjKi6KqQS5k0ELeB0wrOtl5_lH_R1OO8xsZBc9eZJXP3WFs9hHFIDbri6BbPz2VJCo_BgPGE28wPXXecU1PN09T3w46OTLgnEt4nM9i_HUkri8moWQg5aWvLFsmDyrokrxNR/w640-h398/1-Jesus%20heals.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Found <a href="https://www.workingpreacher.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/20240204_Epiph5B_lr_healing_710x440px.jpg">here</a>)</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div>“Healer: that’s why [Jesus came]; that’s who he is. In Jesus, divinity and humanity meet. His whole body-his hands, his mouth, his eyes become a conduit of God’s energy. What’s God’s energy, God’s purpose? To set right a world gone wrong, a suffering world. Out of every pore of his body, Jesus expresses the healing love of God. <br /><br />Jesus’ ministry of healing expresses in history God’s ultimate intention for the world. In Jesus we see a hint of that world to come where there will be no more suffering, no more sadness, no more sickness. <br /><br />He does not wait for the sinner, the sufferer, the marginalized to come to him. In love and humility, he goes to them. This same Jesus, risen from the dead, present and alive in the Church, is still seeking us out, coming into our homes not waiting for us to crawl to him, but seeking us out in love and humility.” <br />~Robert BarronKevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15773311904126582711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1689994251303656672.post-61266855378779574632024-03-11T12:06:00.004-04:002024-03-11T12:06:42.613-04:00Trying To Avoid Suffering<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2FbYr1elHoGcXzP8nbAz1Sqej96AjhEugEYdbf_MOYeEkDVij_EP6SMmHz06hMJyjUQVFV0KaOYtg8RFErgIzCQKtHfeCFhuHDilYrC9NbmjQioI_8DEH4efBIr8qHqbO4rWQXXmvqAo_cczqliwbk4d_0PwCjxd2oDBFBjiFcsoX3BGH5EBkXan1hosU/s1695/1-Thomas%20Merton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1207" data-original-width="1695" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2FbYr1elHoGcXzP8nbAz1Sqej96AjhEugEYdbf_MOYeEkDVij_EP6SMmHz06hMJyjUQVFV0KaOYtg8RFErgIzCQKtHfeCFhuHDilYrC9NbmjQioI_8DEH4efBIr8qHqbO4rWQXXmvqAo_cczqliwbk4d_0PwCjxd2oDBFBjiFcsoX3BGH5EBkXan1hosU/w640-h456/1-Thomas%20Merton.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(<i>Thomas Merton</i> - found <a href="https://publishingperspectives.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/Thomas-Merton.jpg">here</a>)</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div>“Indeed, the truth that many people never understand, until it is too late, is that the more you try to avoid suffering, the more you suffer, because smaller and more insignificant things begin to torture you, in proportion to your fear of being hurt. The one who does most to avoid suffering is, in the end, the one who suffers most: and his suffering comes to him from things so little and so trivial that one can say that it is no longer objective at all. ... This is another of the great perversions by which the devil uses our philosophies to turn our whole nature inside out, and eviscerate all our capacities for good, turning them against ourselves.”<div>~Thomas Merton (partial re-post)</div>Kevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15773311904126582711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1689994251303656672.post-81161250762739117202024-03-10T07:01:00.009-04:002024-03-10T07:01:00.136-04:00Sacred Idleness<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlRQGYCHLwBGryza0JfotlRARpQF_mbSvsaIEuF3rhNUH0F8t9lUHeoJBqXB1dLNpmTIAq4CSlLV4jALQxvAFrplHTlPAg-RP87B-zb_TD9iF813t8dMQz86own2THfSTYiawvK0_WmQOJn7RXl5f9oV8KSFLY5NR4Wb2_N44YvWchveybZOentCcX2Bnm/s537/1-George%20MacDonald.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="537" data-original-width="382" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlRQGYCHLwBGryza0JfotlRARpQF_mbSvsaIEuF3rhNUH0F8t9lUHeoJBqXB1dLNpmTIAq4CSlLV4jALQxvAFrplHTlPAg-RP87B-zb_TD9iF813t8dMQz86own2THfSTYiawvK0_WmQOJn7RXl5f9oV8KSFLY5NR4Wb2_N44YvWchveybZOentCcX2Bnm/w456-h640/1-George%20MacDonald.jpg" width="456" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(<i>George MacDonald</i> - found <a href="https://collectionimages.npg.org.uk/large/mw57088/George-MacDonald.jpg">here</a>)</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div>“Work is not always required of a man. There is such a thing as a sacred idleness, the cultivation of which is now fearfully neglected.” <br />~George MacDonaldKevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15773311904126582711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1689994251303656672.post-36073328106793947212024-03-09T22:34:00.002-05:002024-03-09T22:35:26.191-05:00Dignity<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifjtDMImbxCGKtGfcVDFtK43GU8bQPH_n_QPrB33Kf3HkN50KxP-XnBKl-HWEebAOP0n8W28F5whE4T7XAsQdyZFQusIm2O6vxS0VLXBSE_KePoZT7_Dxgn2x5-eKd_wuC2bBe8evmQqiQEpV8xI1jvpP05BouOkDz3E6NaZEWOpbSZbcH7798CmRFLpLI/s1024/1-mountain3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifjtDMImbxCGKtGfcVDFtK43GU8bQPH_n_QPrB33Kf3HkN50KxP-XnBKl-HWEebAOP0n8W28F5whE4T7XAsQdyZFQusIm2O6vxS0VLXBSE_KePoZT7_Dxgn2x5-eKd_wuC2bBe8evmQqiQEpV8xI1jvpP05BouOkDz3E6NaZEWOpbSZbcH7798CmRFLpLI/w640-h426/1-mountain3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Found <a href="https://live.staticflickr.com/7318/9504457248_4707814aae_b.jpg">here</a>)</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div>And what, in fact, is dignity? In those <br />Who have it pure, it is the soul’s repose, <br />The base of character—no mere reserve <br />That springs from pride, or want of mental nerve. <br />The dignity that wealth, or station, breeds, <br />Or in the breast on base emotion feeds, <br />Is easy weighed, and easy to be sized—A crooked virtue, much to be <br />despised. <br />True dignity is like a summer tree. <br />Beneath whose shade both beast, and bird, and bee, <br />When by the heated skies oppressed, may come, <br />And feel, in its magnificence, at home; <br />Or rather like a mountain which forgets <br />Itself in its own greatness, and so lets <br />Vast armies fuss and fight upon its sides, <br />While high in clouds its peaceful summit hides, <br />And from the voiceless crest of glistening snow, <br />Pours trickling fatness on the fields below; <br />Repellant force, that daunts obtrusive wrong, <br />And woos the timid steps of right along; <br />And hence a garb which magistrates prepare, <br />When called to judge, and really seem to wear. <br />In framing character on whate’er plan, <br />‘Tis always needed to complete the man, <br />The job quite done, and Dignity without, <br />Is like an apple pie, the fruit left out. <br /><br />~Too-qua-steeKevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15773311904126582711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1689994251303656672.post-34545143316665285332024-03-08T15:15:00.004-05:002024-03-08T15:15:57.773-05:00Reading<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUvMKAIs8czdu2Iz1ampcn9paljsSBXs_58et1gjLEVrCQ8f6d_Vs-R5JFh46illbV_5hpcaHxT9oVz8moK_Qa-x-Yv9hFvNytAk4BKA_Nt6oKjF_-lEousqpzxLu_xdJP2aJ3moSYuqAeHU275dnUyxxFHv832nE9-3uoHC8MK-bk4TUwe_n16kiq54gj/s1024/1-reading.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="680" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUvMKAIs8czdu2Iz1ampcn9paljsSBXs_58et1gjLEVrCQ8f6d_Vs-R5JFh46illbV_5hpcaHxT9oVz8moK_Qa-x-Yv9hFvNytAk4BKA_Nt6oKjF_-lEousqpzxLu_xdJP2aJ3moSYuqAeHU275dnUyxxFHv832nE9-3uoHC8MK-bk4TUwe_n16kiq54gj/w640-h426/1-reading.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Found <a href="https://live.staticflickr.com/3448/5800985104_11a03a2629_b.jpg">here</a>)</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div>“Do you soon forget what you read? <br /><br />So do I. And usually very quickly. <br /><br />So why continue reading if all or most is soon forgotten? <br /><br />I think a comparison can help to answer that question. Spiritual nourishment has much in common with physical nourishment. We enjoy a well-prepared, good meal. A glass or two of wine makes it even more enjoyable. And we try to eat healthy foods, cut down on carbs, maybe add some nutritional supplements. Then what? The body doesn’t absorb it all. But where is what is absorbed? We don’t know. (For many of us we do know where a lot of it goes: around the mid-section.) <br /><br />What we do know is that it goes somewhere, it’s part of what and who we are, and without it we would languish and then die. And so we continue to eat regularly. We’re nourished. But we can’t correlate specifically what we eat with what we are as a result. <br /><br />Reading is similar. We can enjoy what we read and learn many things--even when reading fiction. But then we forget. Still, what we read becomes part of us, it shapes us, forms us. We may not be able to correlate specific details of what we read (though sometimes we can) with our way of looking at the world and those around us—or with our relationship with God. But our attitudes are changed, or reinforced, often subtly, by our reading. And, as with eating, if we neglect it we wither. <br /><br />I am reminded of this in a particular way as the year 2024 unfolds. We are facing major world-changing events, perhaps catastrophic ones: war in Ukraine, Israel, and the Middle East; severe economic challenges; political unrest and conflict. It’s easy to be caught up in the ‘things of this world’, important as they are. <br /><br />But we don’t stop eating. And we shouldn’t stop reading. Especially reading that reminds us of the ‘permanent things’ amid the maelstrom of current events. <br /><br />So prepare yourselves [and] feast [on] inspiring, nourishing reading. (And remember, unlike with eating, you can’t ‘over-read’.)” <br />~Joseph Fessio (Editor, Ignatius Press)Kevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15773311904126582711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1689994251303656672.post-68716053455014663552024-03-07T12:19:00.000-05:002024-03-07T12:19:00.274-05:00Little By Little<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicSm7a_wALJFpI1cFhyhGgVIMTvldT8L9PRoBh_pxdwv8a_0QMucDvatdvVNFJ70zxTZY4yeS7c91gJrHit_zL9yzWnIaxAmfzD321ZLmxTybItqHehCvBRq4pPbUtQePo-dC8siElUtl_Ph3CV7-GFDMca6mCoE57P_MLg5TcEcEjqnsr6CRDytXlYVis/s400/1-St-Francis-de-Sales.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="400" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicSm7a_wALJFpI1cFhyhGgVIMTvldT8L9PRoBh_pxdwv8a_0QMucDvatdvVNFJ70zxTZY4yeS7c91gJrHit_zL9yzWnIaxAmfzD321ZLmxTybItqHehCvBRq4pPbUtQePo-dC8siElUtl_Ph3CV7-GFDMca6mCoE57P_MLg5TcEcEjqnsr6CRDytXlYVis/w400-h200/1-St-Francis-de-Sales.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(<i>St. Francis de Sales</i>)</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div>“Little by little, we can make our daily life more and more prayerful, as we are able, over time, to incorporate those suggestions that work with our schedule and that we are ready for spiritually. There is a particular spiritual practice that Francis [de Sales] highly recommends that is possible for all of us: even on those ‘impossible’ days when we are perhaps unable to undertake our normal spiritual practices, we can stay rooted in prayer by constantly addressing brief prayers to the Lord. These can be acts of love, of adoration, of faith, of hope, of petition, or simply saying the name of Jesus—throughout the course of the day. Francis places a very high value on these simple utterances . . . or aspirations.” <br />~Ralph MartinKevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15773311904126582711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1689994251303656672.post-62057843746742775952024-03-06T12:35:00.001-05:002024-03-06T12:35:36.464-05:00Worth Bothering About<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif8Hs5UaVdrIS8NlXULRBu47D4i93FpAev1ip_-wxfBSkCxRHBwmR6gdfa7S622YbWHB7RHa22chpyH9nPIhM5HbbViUS-7FNwHOg8-1R6tQmuGCHV3_o8hVs8wKZDjnKUZLIWCDAPrtpEY5W-UyqyulRLhbt73737hftYW1eY9athEWccWKtWwUaJv2kG/s1920/1-cs-lewis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1061" data-original-width="1920" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif8Hs5UaVdrIS8NlXULRBu47D4i93FpAev1ip_-wxfBSkCxRHBwmR6gdfa7S622YbWHB7RHa22chpyH9nPIhM5HbbViUS-7FNwHOg8-1R6tQmuGCHV3_o8hVs8wKZDjnKUZLIWCDAPrtpEY5W-UyqyulRLhbt73737hftYW1eY9athEWccWKtWwUaJv2kG/w640-h354/1-cs-lewis.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(<i>C. S. Lewis</i>)</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div>“Christianity asserts that every individual human being is going to live forever, and this must be either true or false. Now there are a good many things which would not be worth bothering about if I were going to live only seventy years, but which I had better bother about very seriously if I am going to live for ever.”</div><div>~C. S. Lewis</div>Kevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15773311904126582711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1689994251303656672.post-1145586082188357882024-03-05T12:15:00.000-05:002024-03-05T12:15:00.133-05:00Darkness and Light<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQoXhSysuPE5NO9AmM9Ueq_Ncrrpp1M_bnJLv5mzSTpw8n6DvBLRUUVFqU87tak1EnANfPZgQjn2yOUMIdNI4d-4uPb4IKlHWjb2LdP8BO4LC278PpQfM4-rgqP6ojVFylrGHDlxmlVrhxdXyAkdfMk7E_hsnPwJAk6SOGmFnj4G-Jge8WZuQc1BYQmGXB/s851/1-Meister%20Eckhart.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="851" data-original-width="569" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQoXhSysuPE5NO9AmM9Ueq_Ncrrpp1M_bnJLv5mzSTpw8n6DvBLRUUVFqU87tak1EnANfPZgQjn2yOUMIdNI4d-4uPb4IKlHWjb2LdP8BO4LC278PpQfM4-rgqP6ojVFylrGHDlxmlVrhxdXyAkdfMk7E_hsnPwJAk6SOGmFnj4G-Jge8WZuQc1BYQmGXB/w428-h640/1-Meister%20Eckhart.JPG" width="428" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Found <a href="https://i.etsystatic.com/5947131/r/il/64a9dd/1779036571/il_570xN.1779036571_9h9p.jpg">here</a>)</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div>“Truly, it is in the darkness that one finds the light, so when we are in sorrow, then this light is nearest of all to us.”<br />~Meister EckhartKevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15773311904126582711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1689994251303656672.post-36846951465989433512024-03-04T17:15:00.002-05:002024-03-04T17:18:41.508-05:00The Want of Peace<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6mKWgI_FXbMC9oZLrzjF4pyhjGXdOvvlmyEgKhHzCf3Dfpn2Hhz2uiF46f6zf1zz6KBxwEIfcDA7W9sRT8360ktCp6I_uVksG1g54Fr-IuUjK6kbebKazIMR5JKpEI8ha8j2w9d9PztOMPL_D6OipIPO4V9B5S7lfjAZghz0dow-4GPBlpNaoyJt2ygh4/s1024/1-river-winter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="665" data-original-width="1024" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6mKWgI_FXbMC9oZLrzjF4pyhjGXdOvvlmyEgKhHzCf3Dfpn2Hhz2uiF46f6zf1zz6KBxwEIfcDA7W9sRT8360ktCp6I_uVksG1g54Fr-IuUjK6kbebKazIMR5JKpEI8ha8j2w9d9PztOMPL_D6OipIPO4V9B5S7lfjAZghz0dow-4GPBlpNaoyJt2ygh4/w640-h416/1-river-winter.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Found <a href="https://live.staticflickr.com/4816/46999075781_962d5fd8b4_b.jpg">here</a>)</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div>All goes back to the earth, <br />and so I do not desire <br />pride of excess or power, <br />but the contentments made <br />by men who have had little: <br />the fisherman’s silence <br />receiving the river’s grace, <br />the gardener’s musing on rows. <br /><br />I lack the peace of simple things. <br />I am never wholly in place. <br />I find no peace or grace. <br />We sell the world to buy fire, <br />our way lighted by burning men, <br />and that has bent my mind <br />and made me think of darkness <br />and wish for the dumb life of roots. <br /><br />~Wendell BerryKevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15773311904126582711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1689994251303656672.post-21172874023142218462024-03-04T07:11:00.003-05:002024-03-04T07:11:32.168-05:00O Sun of Justice, Christ our Lord<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimwd71DPkE5u9yKagt_3Ndc5fB1VBRO2_dUmlHum2vNYvhVW6HMrV61KnE1lvJQIJeZwv-p0fzOscHwEzkuXlNeHiz-OTCS48LlJY1bzVnxJXEChazE8GPWg92O1Z9yZVXZ4C8eLzwLzROb9vYX4P9jks0d3jHUNsX60L-HSue84O309nTFNZ9AnRn4Mau/s550/1-hymn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="397" data-original-width="550" height="462" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimwd71DPkE5u9yKagt_3Ndc5fB1VBRO2_dUmlHum2vNYvhVW6HMrV61KnE1lvJQIJeZwv-p0fzOscHwEzkuXlNeHiz-OTCS48LlJY1bzVnxJXEChazE8GPWg92O1Z9yZVXZ4C8eLzwLzROb9vYX4P9jks0d3jHUNsX60L-HSue84O309nTFNZ9AnRn4Mau/w640-h462/1-hymn.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div>O Sun of Justice, Christ our Lord,</div><div>as you restore the day to earth,<br />now rend the darkness of our minds,<br />that light from virtue may return.<br /><br />In this, your favored time of grace,<br />Lord, grant repentance from the heart,<br />that your compassion may convert<br />all those your love has long endured.<br /><br />Grant us to bear the penances<br />that bring atonement for our sins:<br />however great our faults and guilt<br />yet greater is your gift of grace.<br /><br />The day shall come, your holy day,<br />through which all things will flow’r again;<br />let us rejoice, for through this day<br />your grace will lead us back to you.<br /><br />Let all your works adore you, Lord,<br />O merciful and Triune God.<br />Renewed by pardon, let us sing<br />a new song to your holy name. Amen.<br /><br />Tune: JENA, 8 8 8 8<br />Music: later form of melody by Melchior Vulpius, 1570-1615, composed in 1609<br />or Mode D, melody 126; <i>Liber Hymnarius</i>, Solesmes, 1983<br />Text: <i>Iam, Christe, sol iustitiæ</i>, 6th c.</div>Kevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15773311904126582711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1689994251303656672.post-72874997901414913982024-03-02T06:01:00.004-05:002024-03-02T06:01:00.132-05:00A Curse, A Blessing<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7xoILyupP0ffqyYIKAFK-SzT5KHz2NFj5tuzXJWp4sVYJik5PA4QrjkrhSLWEVBZJnDnox2eqRrXXBzzrTcB7U9gdoszTRVeF1i6nu0gnWs8Bybolnb_3J0j6iX9Waea6nMhyphenhyphenRYcdUOWWHMtpPoq8IYyNe3v9eaNl_-mfokMzLyTgFT4gxIxXxN_5cFl-/s1024/1-stream2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1024" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7xoILyupP0ffqyYIKAFK-SzT5KHz2NFj5tuzXJWp4sVYJik5PA4QrjkrhSLWEVBZJnDnox2eqRrXXBzzrTcB7U9gdoszTRVeF1i6nu0gnWs8Bybolnb_3J0j6iX9Waea6nMhyphenhyphenRYcdUOWWHMtpPoq8IYyNe3v9eaNl_-mfokMzLyTgFT4gxIxXxN_5cFl-/w640-h422/1-stream2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Found <a href="https://live.staticflickr.com/8339/8213566665_e0f5b474c1_b.jpg">here</a>)</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div>Thus says the LORD: <br />Cursed is the man who trusts in human beings, <br /> who seeks his strength in flesh, <br /> whose heart turns away from the LORD. <br />He is like a barren bush in the desert <br /> that enjoys no change of season, <br />But stands in a lava waste, <br /> a salt and empty earth. <br />Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, <br /> whose hope is the LORD. <br />He is like a tree planted beside the waters <br /> that stretches out its roots to the stream: <br />It fears not the heat when it comes, <br /> its leaves stay green; <br />In the year of drought it shows no distress, <br /> but still bears fruit. <br />More tortuous than all else is the human heart, <br /> beyond remedy; who can understand it? <br />I, the LORD, alone probe the mind <br /> and test the heart, <br />To reward everyone according to his ways, <br /> according to the merit of his deeds.<div><br /><div>~Jeremiah 17:5-10 (re-post)</div></div>Kevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15773311904126582711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1689994251303656672.post-78162146677177263262024-03-01T12:01:00.004-05:002024-03-01T12:01:00.127-05:00Prepare for the Bridegroom<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6_x5o4hTrypkIIyrn530136eqgGj4pE8zTBrNiwyGrvewMTd7yoDfvBNLd3jDi5h2MQkyL4ZAMeSFsSUBpfF8EcvcKBI_WyOEjHPYMcJVr27pPXHYOeep7NrL1vDPPmZLI8hi5nOA9IW5-Oiq4iAWxwuJ8yxwok2v5rAv7YX0iSY7FuqQ8UjXxBNuTisq/s999/1-Ten%20Virgins2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="746" data-original-width="999" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6_x5o4hTrypkIIyrn530136eqgGj4pE8zTBrNiwyGrvewMTd7yoDfvBNLd3jDi5h2MQkyL4ZAMeSFsSUBpfF8EcvcKBI_WyOEjHPYMcJVr27pPXHYOeep7NrL1vDPPmZLI8hi5nOA9IW5-Oiq4iAWxwuJ8yxwok2v5rAv7YX0iSY7FuqQ8UjXxBNuTisq/w640-h478/1-Ten%20Virgins2.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Found <a href="https://i0.wp.com/jorgecocco.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/06/ten-virgins.jpg?fit=1000%2C1000&ssl=1">here</a>)</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div>“This month of March will be like living the entire liturgical year in a month, a microcosm of each of our lives. We begin the month during the season of Lent and the final day of the month is Easter Sunday. We begin in the Vale of Tears, continue to the Cross, and end at an empty tomb. <br /><br />Being born with Original Sin, we have a darkened intellect and a weakened will. Our life is a struggle and fight with the flesh, the world, and the devil. However, it is different from any other historical battle or war man has faced, for in this struggle, we go into battle knowing victory has already been attained. The grace of Christ has overcome sin and death. We battle, but the war has been won. What is not secure is the salvation of our souls and those of the world...but God’s grace is there! It is given to us from the throne of victory! <br /><br />As we continue our Lenten observance, dedicate the next 30 days to entering that interior battle with humility and sobriety. The salvation of our souls is at stake. Have faith and confidence in Our Lord who has won the grace of salvation. We simply need to cooperate with His grace in the fulfillment of our duties of fidelity and love of God and His Church. <br /><br />Recall the ending of the Parable of the Ten Virgins in Matthew 25. Some were prepared and some failed to prepare for the bridegroom. <br /><br /><i>‘Later the other virgins arrived and said, “Lord, Lord, open the door for us!” But he replied, “Truly I tell you, I do not know you.”’ <b>Therefore, keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour. </b></i><br /><br />Jesus asks us to remain vigilant in our daily prayer and sacramental life. May these final days of Lent lead to closer communion with Christ. <br /><br />Trim your wicks, fill your lamps, and be ready. The bridegroom is coming!”<div><br /></div><div>(From an email from TAN Books)</div>Kevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15773311904126582711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1689994251303656672.post-72304691055589805802024-03-01T06:01:00.017-05:002024-03-01T06:01:00.136-05:00Late Sayings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP-H3P7X7fcSnxeU4guSYZcra2QJLf1H5g5X5cUAZ0UBu1ZcrXBTloXk3HMM-Yz7ZPGyG0MM90DUzO2aVCKwyGGizjncJtt3PCjOWZTPf5ZBX7lgayiQeCMtbwXtFehsEBBlUCmhmz-49JF6NGd7Db9Njmia6nCa_pvNUeDzwlvwl3tdmBuMVkuHL4P_CR/s797/1-blessed2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="274" data-original-width="797" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP-H3P7X7fcSnxeU4guSYZcra2QJLf1H5g5X5cUAZ0UBu1ZcrXBTloXk3HMM-Yz7ZPGyG0MM90DUzO2aVCKwyGGizjncJtt3PCjOWZTPf5ZBX7lgayiQeCMtbwXtFehsEBBlUCmhmz-49JF6NGd7Db9Njmia6nCa_pvNUeDzwlvwl3tdmBuMVkuHL4P_CR/w640-h220/1-blessed2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Blessed as well are the wounded but nonetheless kind, <br /> for they shall observe their own mending. <br /><br />Blessed are those who shed their every anxious defense, <br /> for they shall obtain consolation. <br /><br />Blessed are those whose sympathy throbs as an ache, <br /> for they shall see the end of suffering. <br /><br />Blessed are those who do not presume, <br /> for they shall be surprised at every turn. <br /><br />Blessed are those who seek the God in secret, <br /> for they shall know His very breath rising as a pulse. <br /><br />Blessed moreover are those who refuse to judge, <br /> for they shall forget their own most grave transgressions. <br /><br />Blessed are those who watch and pray, who seek and plead, <br /> for they shall see, and shall be heard.<div><br /></div><div>~Scott Cairns</div>Kevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15773311904126582711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1689994251303656672.post-37634052163826064322024-02-29T12:18:00.001-05:002024-02-29T12:18:20.796-05:00The House at Rest<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLlEDyS-AA37gYFF78wjJ6Vjngmfrnf8NqKyDfETKWZViBe1I93SSQMfXXznWRWXpTi6cJXMSxe65cmMJZZGNeJopqNWqMtQ0YzYlHGuDAQz6QUQ_kZbUrnPEg_jG4ujZb3_7IsAvBjTPURZWilTbg2-HNhowEPMbvfoeHw3PfXEaA-buod-gqd1KdJhWR/s1024/1-house%20at%20night.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLlEDyS-AA37gYFF78wjJ6Vjngmfrnf8NqKyDfETKWZViBe1I93SSQMfXXznWRWXpTi6cJXMSxe65cmMJZZGNeJopqNWqMtQ0YzYlHGuDAQz6QUQ_kZbUrnPEg_jG4ujZb3_7IsAvBjTPURZWilTbg2-HNhowEPMbvfoeHw3PfXEaA-buod-gqd1KdJhWR/w640-h426/1-house%20at%20night.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Found <a href="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/46773129895_696ca3937d_b.jpg">here</a>)</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><i>On a dark night <br /> Kindled in love with yearnings — <br /> Oh, happy chance! — <br /> I went forth unobserved, <br /> My house being now at rest. <br /> ~St. John of the Cross <br /></i><br />How does one hush one’s house, <br />each proud possessive wall, each sighing rafter, <br />the rooms made restless with remembered laughter <br />or wounding echoes, the permissive doors, <br />the stairs that vacillate from up to down, <br />windows that bring in color and event <br />from countryside or town, <br />oppressive ceilings and complaining floors? <br /><br />The house must first of all accept the night. <br />Let it erase the walls and their display, <br />impoverish the rooms till they are filled <br />with humble silences; let clocks be stilled <br />and all the selfish urgencies of day. <br /><br />Midnight is not the time to greet a guest. <br />Caution the doors against both foes and friends, <br />and try to make the windows understand <br />their unimportance when the daylight ends. <br />Persuade the stairs to patience, and deny <br />the passages their aimless to and fro. <br />Virtue it is that puts a house at rest. <br />How well repaid that tenant is, how blest <br />who, when the call is heard, <br />is free to take his kindled heart and go. <br /><br />~Jessica Powers<br /> Kevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15773311904126582711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1689994251303656672.post-19901379356459392962024-02-28T06:01:00.000-05:002024-02-28T06:01:00.129-05:00Nature<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT_e2oEl9bdBUj9yHpw2V1zR8IGaMTvRO0eQwVmsHfk0NtjwSnjDoaKUbAHP-NiotjiN9KmEiq96p-wUmArw-BGHlVI2VtjRjbLorDouaHAKTZUvpJn1_ebDRq3R9NApM4yHOUOkLnslde0DIGinPtsotReE-Y8f0Ypi9XcBNA2jKRi6yMslLwpNQ9Ck93/s537/1-George%20MacDonald.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="537" data-original-width="382" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT_e2oEl9bdBUj9yHpw2V1zR8IGaMTvRO0eQwVmsHfk0NtjwSnjDoaKUbAHP-NiotjiN9KmEiq96p-wUmArw-BGHlVI2VtjRjbLorDouaHAKTZUvpJn1_ebDRq3R9NApM4yHOUOkLnslde0DIGinPtsotReE-Y8f0Ypi9XcBNA2jKRi6yMslLwpNQ9Ck93/w456-h640/1-George%20MacDonald.jpg" width="456" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(<i>George MacDonald</i> - found <a href="https://collectionimages.npg.org.uk/large/mw57088/George-MacDonald.jpg">here</a>)</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div>“If the flowers were not perishable, we should cease to contemplate their beauty, either blinded by the passion for hoarding the bodies of them, or dulled by the hebetude of commonplaceness that the constant presence of them would occasion. To compare great things with small, the flowers wither, the bubbles break, the clouds and sunsets pass, for the very same holy reason (in the degree of its application to them) for which the Lord withdrew from His disciples and ascended again to His Father – that the Comforter, the Spirit of Truth, the Soul of things, might come to them and abide with them, and so, the Son return, and the Father be revealed. The flower is not its loveliness, and its loveliness we must love, else we shall only treat them as flower-greedy children, who gather and gather, and fill hands and baskets from a mere desire of acquisition.”<div>~George MacDonald</div>Kevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15773311904126582711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1689994251303656672.post-72709777001241119262024-02-27T07:24:00.003-05:002024-02-27T07:24:47.333-05:00Bowl<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN_VZ7Q49rTld1s1tH7vj9oLonpTMe4Gl28q8HYsqGRkzqHn7ZnxLgFMV7BzDdlETcJEy-WxBnOIFnHRvbDWB5c4hZj5fvdKRkSb02_uQGObcjD2NfqEk2Y9nJHaEPfZczZNBuBQU9g8_7IRhHz7KlZs_3DfNwes1Uo5GwHl6myS5Nc7kuPYxJ6O_ySy5u/s1024/1-bowl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="766" data-original-width="1024" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN_VZ7Q49rTld1s1tH7vj9oLonpTMe4Gl28q8HYsqGRkzqHn7ZnxLgFMV7BzDdlETcJEy-WxBnOIFnHRvbDWB5c4hZj5fvdKRkSb02_uQGObcjD2NfqEk2Y9nJHaEPfZczZNBuBQU9g8_7IRhHz7KlZs_3DfNwes1Uo5GwHl6myS5Nc7kuPYxJ6O_ySy5u/w640-h478/1-bowl.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Found <a href="https://live.staticflickr.com/7231/7206713736_6354fec037_b.jpg">here</a>)</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div>as the dog</div><div>eats his meal from the bowl<br />something in the life observing him<br />wonders what it means<br />to be here watching him<br />wonders what it would be like<br />to exist<br />and not self-examine all the time<br />like an obsessive scientist of oneself<br />what it would be like to run<br />through the fields without a plough<br />constantly tilling<br />every fold of the heart<br />what it would be like to lick<br />the bowl<br />and trust –</div><div><br /></div><div><div>~Adriana Lisboa (translated by Alison Entrekin)</div></div>Kevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15773311904126582711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1689994251303656672.post-53857477379863482012024-02-26T12:03:00.000-05:002024-02-26T12:03:00.136-05:00The Sacrifice of Isaac<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdLF221MnX0mWv-r9O5eImSaRLcL_Nwueg4S7gvhA0lUcrek9WHrowcqwmPvesmoMyu3PfBjftAjQv5m0viO8kkdS35O6aMRJyov_65THTbozyl0ViL2MNQ7j-0UozItEEJqqq5U3f9CWgYCI1kYHZFaEdS3yLCrBMSNVNKzrYJsTgA_e2ey_HDi9n7NPf/s645/1-The%20Sacrifice%20of%20Isaac%20(Rembrandt).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="645" data-original-width="461" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdLF221MnX0mWv-r9O5eImSaRLcL_Nwueg4S7gvhA0lUcrek9WHrowcqwmPvesmoMyu3PfBjftAjQv5m0viO8kkdS35O6aMRJyov_65THTbozyl0ViL2MNQ7j-0UozItEEJqqq5U3f9CWgYCI1kYHZFaEdS3yLCrBMSNVNKzrYJsTgA_e2ey_HDi9n7NPf/w458-h640/1-The%20Sacrifice%20of%20Isaac%20(Rembrandt).jpg" width="458" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(<i>The Sacrifice of Isaac</i> (Rembrandt) - found <a href="https://maa.missouri.edu/sites/default/files/img/2021-11/resources_02.jpg">here</a>)</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div>God told Abraham—Kill your son for me—& they<br />climbed Mount Moriah so there would be a great<br />distance of rock—cloud—shadow & light to be sliced in<br />two—& the perplexing covenant might come to mind as<br />you stare toward the blue horizon<br /><br />The knife seems to fall forever<br />as Abraham (looking like an old man Rembrandt<br />frequently sketched) palms the bound youth’s face<br />with a large determined hand to shield him from the<br />sight<br /><br />The knife seems to fall forever<br />giving you time to think of bloody Passover—of Jesus<br />as sacrificial lamb—of what kind of god would ask so<br />much & what kind of father could do it (as a<br />windblown angel seizes the old man’s wrist)<br /><br />Then you notice the eyes—bloodshot & observant<br />of a ram caught in a thicket—This is no happy ending<br />Three centuries after Rembrandt<br />the knife still falls<div><br /></div><div>~D. S. Martin</div>Kevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15773311904126582711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1689994251303656672.post-59335436042461317962024-02-25T22:22:00.002-05:002024-02-25T22:22:18.258-05:001 Peter 2:21-24<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0KO0DvlucJosdBdvlibmdVgq4wmC1OCHhNk56VoTQAVIg_FW_knYvhJDl9G1MqdWrywv3an2DIOiG0HRGfBa1_7wv6EmVhdXp6gyQECxGx9azNOsNpyP85wVbaXUqBYjkTdZc5qQW1Ywrvmahyphenhyphen2AbhuF4Ly2GbnoE38330pRHQfhK5L7jqL6wIJ9Wkf9J/s796/1-1%20Peter.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="530" data-original-width="796" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0KO0DvlucJosdBdvlibmdVgq4wmC1OCHhNk56VoTQAVIg_FW_knYvhJDl9G1MqdWrywv3an2DIOiG0HRGfBa1_7wv6EmVhdXp6gyQECxGx9azNOsNpyP85wVbaXUqBYjkTdZc5qQW1Ywrvmahyphenhyphen2AbhuF4Ly2GbnoE38330pRHQfhK5L7jqL6wIJ9Wkf9J/w640-h426/1-1%20Peter.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Found <a href="https://res.cloudinary.com/pine-cove/image/upload/w_640,h_427,g_face,c_fill,q_auto,f_auto/blog%2Fimported%2Fcontent%2F1-Peter-Bible1">here</a>)</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div>Christ suffered for you, <br />and left you an example <br />to have you follow in His footsteps.<br /><br />He did no wrong; <br />no deceit was found in His mouth.<br />When He was insulted, <br />He returned no insult.<br /><br />When He was made to suffer, <br />He did not counter with threats.<br />Instead He delivered Himself up <br />to the One who judges justly.<br /><br />In His own body <br />He brought your sins to the cross,<br />so that all of us, dead to sin, <br />could live in accord with God’s will.<br /><br />By His wounds you were healed.</div>Kevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15773311904126582711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1689994251303656672.post-49289407352954788702024-02-24T10:42:00.004-05:002024-02-24T10:43:06.128-05:00Forgive Those Who Persecute You<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinBdPlV-dwAP2yTP4HQpgul20fnXdZMKSEVON2usM8ZcyuOjW701ncaavodH-bzp8qR9B7fjwoo0HST-WXPk8AbHukpFXNR0rrvFIAO_gKWdkW7savEhfMdgPupTfmVlOHaT93g__VgsxBq827mY0Iha_kEa5Na7PQD7pk7qwpReYJPZHD0ZPWc_f4XtUk/s900/1-foot%20of%20the%20cross.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="900" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinBdPlV-dwAP2yTP4HQpgul20fnXdZMKSEVON2usM8ZcyuOjW701ncaavodH-bzp8qR9B7fjwoo0HST-WXPk8AbHukpFXNR0rrvFIAO_gKWdkW7savEhfMdgPupTfmVlOHaT93g__VgsxBq827mY0Iha_kEa5Na7PQD7pk7qwpReYJPZHD0ZPWc_f4XtUk/w640-h426/1-foot%20of%20the%20cross.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Found <a href="https://images.fineartamerica.com/images/artworkimages/mediumlarge/2/detail-of-feet-of-the-crucifixion-of-jesus-christ-gone-with-the-wind.jpg">here</a>)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>“…There is something hidden in the deep mystery of God, and I can’t fully explicate it. Somehow, if there is a lack of forgiveness in you, it blocks the movement of God in you. Perhaps it’s simply because God is love, and so whatever is opposed to love in us blocks the flow of God’s power and God’s life.</div><br />One reason we do not forgive is that we feel that some injustice has been done to us, and we resent it. A good cure for this feeling is to kneel before the cross of Jesus. What do you see there? The innocent Son of God nailed to the cross the ultimate injustice. What does he do? He forgives his persecutors. Meditate on that, and your sense of being treated unjustly will fade away.” <br />~Robert Barron<div></div>Kevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15773311904126582711noreply@blogger.com0