In a world that always wants to do, we hardly know what it is to be.

Ravi Zacharias in The Grand Weaver

To allow God to be God we must follow him for who he is and what he intends, and not for what we want or what we prefer.

Ravi Zacharias in The Grand Weaver

Knowledge is desirable, but alone it’s dangerous. Unless knowledge is laid atop goodness – anchored to it – we grow susceptible to snobbery and smugness. A big head on a small soul is ugly as an orc. 

Mark Buchanan in Hidden In Plain Sight

That an ape has hands is far less interesting to the philosopher than the fact that having hands he does next to nothing with them; does not play knuckle-bones or the violin; does not carve marble or carve mutton. The chasm between man and other creatures may have a natural explanation, but it is a chasm.

G.K. Chesterton in Orthodoxy

Man must have just enough faith in himself to have adventures, and just enough doubt of himself to enjoy them.

G.K. Chesterton in Orthodoxy

“I had always believed that the world involved magic:  now I thought that perhaps it involved a magician.  And this pointed to a profound emotion always present and sub-conscious; that this world of ours has some purpose: and if there is a purpose, there is a person.  I had always felt life first as a story; and if there is a story there is a story-teller.”

G.K. Chesterton in Orthodoxy

“Evangelicals are the kind of responsible citizens most Americans appreciate as neighbors but don’t want to spend much time with.”

Philip Yancey in the Introduction to Orthodoxy by G.K. Chesterton

More painful th…

A post I read yesterday reminded me of how much time I used to spend thinking about what could have been.  In fact, I was a bit jealous when she talked of her carefree time in Europe.  I always wanted to travel.  But that dream was set aside because of the responsibilities of caring for my family, jobs, bills, and then caring for my parents.

I’ve spent way too much time daydreaming of things I could have done, places I could have seen or people I could have met.  What if I had taken that trip across the country, what if I hadn’t taken a break from my career, where would I be, what would I be doing…….on and on with more what ifs – major ones –  that I won’t mention here. While driving to work one morning, thinking again of what could have been, I realized it was stealing the joy of what is. My “what is” is a beautiful thing. It’s not perfect -it’s messy and painful and glorious all at the same time.  But it’s mine.

And this is what came from all of my wishing and thinking and realizing. Parts of the idea rolled around in my head for weeks until it finally came together and said exactly what I meant for it to say.

Thanks to http://onegirlsjourneytofreedom.wordpress.com/  for sharing her thoughts that inspired this re-blog of the quote from earlier this year.

More painful than “what could have been” is what could have been if I’d not wasted my time wondering what could have been.

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Write

Anne Lamott wrote in Bird by Bird  “To be a good writer, you not only have to write a great deal but you have to care. You do not have to have a complicated moral philosophy. But a writer always tries, I think, to be part of the solution, to understand a little about life and to pass it on”.

I’ve always written…….in a journal, notes to friends, poems, and prayers. I want others to read what I write, but not because I think I have some remarkable message to share. But, I do know things and my perspective on life will definitely be different from yours. If my experiences teach you something, reveal a truth, make you think about something you’ve never thought about before, or simply make you feel less alone, that is enough.

I write to share what I’ve learned, and struggled with. Or what makes me laugh. What moves me or changes me. But mostly what I struggle with. I share it so you’ll know you’re not the only one. I end up feeling less alone, too.

I’ve done what I set out to do if I’ve caused that middle-aged teacher to feel less guilty about his anger over caring for his widowed father while caring for his own family.

Or maybe the girl that’s on her 5th try into the new year to make good on her resolution to lose weight. Maybe she feels hopeful and decides to press on because of something I put out there. Or maybe instead she decides she likes her curves. Either way, she’s better.

If I’ve given you the courage to ask for a raise, I’ve done what I hope to do.

I write to encourage, inspire, and connect. To give hope, to make you ponder a question you’ve never asked before, to make you laugh or cry. To help unlock a memory stored away. I write to help you see someone in a new way, or help start the journey of forgiving, or put into words what you can’t seem to.

I write to pass it on.

In response to the Daily Post’s Guilty.