Let me do my work each day; and if the darkened hours of despair
overcome me, may I not forget the strength that comforted me
in the desolation of other times.
May I still remember the bright hours that found me walking over
the silent hills of my childhood, or dreaming on the margin of a quiet
river, when a light glowed within me, and I promised my early God
to have courage amid the tempests of the changing years.
Spare me from bitterness and from the sharp passions of unguarded
moments. May I not forget that poverty and riches are of the spirit.
Though the world knows me not, may my thoughts and actions be
such as shall keep me friendly with myself.
Lift up my eyes from the earth, and let me not forget the uses of the
stars. Forbid that I should judge others lest I condemn myself.
Let me not follow the clamor of the world, but walk calmly in my
Give me a few friends who will love me for what I am; and keep ever
burning before my vagrant steps the kindly light of hope.
And though age and infirmity overtake me, and I come not within
sight of the castle of my dreams, teach me still to be thankful for
life, and for time’s olden memories that are good and sweet; and
may the evening’s twilight find me gentle still.
Let every step you take upon the earth be as a prayer. ~ Black Elk
People who attend religious services tend to live longer than those who don’t. In a 12-year study of people over age 65, those who went more than once a week had higher levels of a key immune system protein than their peers who didn’t. The strong social network that develops among people who worship together may boost your health.Source
Happy St. Patrick’s Day
Christ behind and before me,
Christ behind and above me,
Christ with me and in me,
Christ around and about me,
Christ on my right and on my left,
Christ when I lie down at night,
Christ when I rise in the morning,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone that speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.
– St Patrick
Journaling About Unanswered Prayers
I didn’t confine my anger to doctors and nurses and hospital staff. I was angry with God. I quit speaking to Him. My faith in God was on life support. Here is an excerpt from my Journal Entry on my unanswered prayers in Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again
“I could not imagine God’s will being different from mine. Somehow, I thought God would not reject my argument. After all, I was making my case on love. How could God refuse my prayer? All I heard was the deafening sound of more silence. Each day Babe grew weaker. Her eyes remained closed, and even her lips ceased to mouth the words “I love you.” Her hand no longer squeezed mine in response when I told her I loved her.
Nurses implored me to tell Babe it was okay to die. I refused. I wouldn’t quit. That was our deal. I promised. Medical staff would demand to know what I wanted for her last moments in this world. I regularly answered, “A miracle.”
I prayed on and on as Babe continued to slide away from me. I struggled with my will versus God’s will. The only time I asked God for his will to be done was the day Babe died. And I haven’t been grateful for anything since that day.”
Ordering information for the paperback or ebook version of Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again may be found at https://dancingalone530.com/dancing-alone/
Excerpt From: Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again by Ray Calabrese. This material is protected by copyright
If there is to be peace in the world,
There must be peace in the nations.
If there is to be peace in the nations,
There must be peace in the cities.
If there is to be peace in the cities,
There must be peace between neighbors.
If there is to be peace between neighbors,
There must be peace in the home.
If there is to be peace in the home,
There must be peace in the heart.
Glory be to God by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Glory be to God for dappled things –
For skies of couple color as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls, finches’ wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced – fold, fallow, and plow;
And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change: