Guerrillas of Grace

How shall I pray?

Are tears prayers, Lord?

Are screams prayers,

or groans

or sighs

or curses?

Can trembling hands be lifted to you,

or clenched fists

or the cold sweat that trickles down my back

or the cramps that knot my stomach?

Will you accept my prayers, Lord,

my real prayers,

rooted in the muck and mud and rock of my life,

and not just the pretty, cut-flower, gracefully arranged

bouquet of words?

Will you accept me, Lord,

as I really am,

messed up mixture of glory and grime?

(~Ted Loder)

Easy is a soul word, not a circumstance word. The soul was not made for an easy life. The soul was made for an easy yoke.
(~John Ortberg)

When you are ready to bake, prick the crust in several spot with a fork, line the pie plate or tart shell with foil or parchment paper, and fill it with rice or dried beans. Bake as directed then carefully remove the foil and the beans--the shell will have retained its form because of them. I like seeing how a substance that weighs heavily can, in the end, be lifted; I like the feel of the beans, like trouble that slips through your fingers. Most of all, I like the proof in the pastry: it is the things we have to bear that shape us. 
(~Jodi Picoult, Handle with Care, p. 123)

The weariest nights, the longest days, sooner or later must perforce come to an end.
(~Baroness Emmuska Orczy)