Last night, I heard through the grapevine news of someone who used to be my enemy. I learned that. . . .
Read morethe grace of gratitude
Early yesterday morning, I asked God for the grace of gratitude. I asked Him to open my eyes all day long, so that I could see the many blessings which I constantly receive. In the morning quiet, before the world awakened, I tasted the sheer delight of saying thank-You--for the friend who loves me and the courage to make a hard phone call and legs that can walk and the dog lying at my feet and the gift of yet another day on this good earth.
“[I] ask [God] for an intimate knowledge of the many blessings received so that, filled with gratitude for all, I may in all things love and serve [Him].” St. Ignatius of Loyola
Then I heard the news of a tragic shooting, one grown child taking the lives of other grown children in one senseless, horrific moment. My heart sank under the heavy news. Suddenly, evil loomed so large that good seemed to pale in comparison. My desire to live the day “filled with gratitude” seemed small and almost silly in light of this loss. Confusion and loss of heart felt far more appropriate.
“The rain to the wind said, / ‘You push and I’ll pelt.’ / They so smote the garden bed / That the flowers actually knelt / And lay lodged-though not dead. / I know how the flowers felt.” Robert Frost
After weary hours of being pushed and pelted, I remembered my morning prayer for the grace of gratitude. I remembered to look up. I remembered that we are not alone in this crazy, upside-down world. I remembered that God, too, was pushed and pelted.
“[A] Man of suffering and well-acquainted with grief, familiar with pain.” Isaiah 53:3
By nightfall, God was great again, and evil was small again by comparison. I lay like a child, counting my many blessings before falling asleep.
“God is great / God is good / Let us thank Him. . . .” A child’s grace
loving words
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Read moreI used to teach little children to swim, and most of them took to it like ducks to water. Teaching them to float, though, . . .
true listening
Years ago, a friend listened to me so deeply that I still enjoy the ripple effects. We were sitting in my basement living room, and she. . . .
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