I know that I have to trust
that You will be with me,
however broken and wounded my soul.
I do not have to earn Your love,
I do not have to be healthy and whole.
I need only to remember
that my heart is greater than my wounds,
that You await me there
with Your healing presence.
— John Kirvan
Baby feet love to play.
They are fresh and smooth and soft and plump.
They are not yet worn flat
by the weight and toil of living life,
and cramped by constricting shoes.
They are sensitive and responsive,
with a fetal-like curl to the slightest touch.
Their toes wiggle with a joy for life,
stretching to reach their full spread,
to their full potential.
They are happy with anticipation,
of skipping and hopping up the path,
back to home in heaven.
The ending of this story has been haunting me for the past two weeks:
Mark Twain’s wife, a prim and proper lady, tried to shock him one time out of his use of vulgar language. She greeted him at the door, cursed him up one side and down the other with all of the words she had heard him use, plus a couple more. Twain stood there quietly, listening, taking it all in until she had finished. When she was finished, he calmly replied, “My dear, you have the words, but not the music.”
I have been wondering lately if I have just been parroting the words, or do I have a real feel for the music. It is easy to hear the words with my ears, and read the words with my eyes, but God’s music can only truly be heard with an open heart. Am I just fooling myself? Have any of the notes from His Symphony been getting through the walls I have built around my heart? Have I reflected any of His music to others around me? I fear that I am tone-deaf.
Isn’t it strange that princes and kings,
and clowns that caper in sawdust rings,
and common folks like you and me
are builders of eternity?
Each is given a bag ot tools,
a shapeless mass and a book of rules.
And each must make — ere’ life is flown,
a stumbling block or a stepping stone.
— Author unknown
Sin is like a man jumping into a well. His act is eternal, leaving no hope of escape. Only Jesus, by His immense love through the redemptive Incarnation, can throw a rope down the well to save the man. The man must choose to take hold of this rope, that is, to repent and turn toward God. If the man refuses the rope, he will be lost forever.
— Inspired by Fr. Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange
It takes humility, not pride, to grab that rope. So, how obstinate are you?