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Awareness And The Spirit
I arrived at work this morning like Bob Cratchit, in a post-holiday rush, behind my time, dithered in the head, fumbling with my keys. I spent the morning trying to catch up on backed-up tasks. But busy as I was, something in my spirit was troubled. As the morning wore on, I realized that I felt a crushing sadness in my very bones. What could be making me feel this way? I thought. And then it came to me. Five years ago today, my sister called me at work to tell me that our mother had died. My memory is not what it once was, but my spirit, my internal…
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Sands, Running
We’ve had a respite from the August heat for a few days. This past weekend, it was so chilly in the mornings and evenings, I had to put on a light jacket in order to sit outside comfortably. This coming weekend is supposed to be more typical of late August, with temperatures back up in the mid-to-high 80s. But the sphere is tilting and the sands are running through the narrow neck, and the effects, while slight, are most definitely there. The crickets keep up a steady chorus. The little things that migrate are extra-busy, flitting and feeding constantly. The leaves are applying their grown-up makeup. The late afternoon sun…
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Let’s Test That Theory
Yesterday, I spent considerable time thinking on the subject of suffering and how we face trials. If suffering comes today, I thought with the glib certainty of theoretical emotion, I would be able to endure it better than in the past. In the evening, our nearest neighbor, a dear woman whom we love and appreciate, came to the door bearing gifts. She had almost two dozen large brown eggs from her son’s hens, and a sack full of tomatoes and cucumbers. We stood chatting in the fading light while the hummingbirds flew resupply missions in the muggy air above our heads. Nodding at the eggs, she said, “We’ve got to…
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Sitting Outside The Gates
This week marks the one-year anniversary of two deaths. The contrast between the lives of the two dead people is more striking with every passing day. The first was a young woman from an affluent background. She was sullen, self-absorbed, and from what I could see, cruel to her family. Her parents had done everything they could to usher her into adulthood, providing for her material and educational needs, and supporting her frequent and wildly unrealistic ideas about what she wanted to be when and if she grew up. When she died, it was what coroners like to call “death by misadventure.” The remaining question for her family and friends…
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Fragility Of Life
I took a long, slow walk last evening, saying my Rosary as I strolled. Tiny spring flowers were peeking up through the mast, winking in the dimming light, reminding me that life returns, that certain promises are always kept. While whispering the ancient prayers, I also kept an eye out for the bull over whose health I have been so concerned lately. I never saw him. I will continue to look for him, and in the meantime, I will continue to hope that he was healed as miraculously as our little dog Dixee was. I hope he is on a sunny slope this morning, cropping grass and eyeing the cows…