The world is rated R, and no one is checking IDs. Do not try to make it G by imagining the shadows away. Do not try to hide your children from the world forever, but do not try to pretend there is no danger. Train them. Give them sharp eyes and bellies full of laughter. Make them dangerous. Make them yeast, and when they’ve grown, they will pollute the shadows.

(~N.D. Wilson, Notes From The Tilt-A-Whirl: Wide-Eyed Wonder in God's Spoken World)

...suddenly we were the needy ones. We couldn’t care for our other boys. We couldn’t water the tomatoes or go make a pot of coffee. We didn’t have any meals for ourselves or our children at home... And how could I ask for help when I’m positive I’ve failed at being a giver?... Then He answers this request in the funniest way. He allows me a position where I’m able to do nothing. Then He surrounds me with the dearest friends and family, some of whom have the very least in time, physical stamina, sleep, emotional wherewithal and material possessions. He shows me how they stop and sit with me and my children in my not-enoughness... One friend laid next to me on the hospital bed for a while. I had no idea at the time how just having her sit right next to me helped my heart. I look back and remember our legs right there together, backs against the pillows. We were laughing. She has no idea. None of them know.

(~from inCourage website, Amber C. Haines, “Why It’s Okay to Not Be Enough”)

Do not ask your children 
to strive for extraordinary lives.
Such striving may seem admirable, 
but it is the way of foolishness.

Help them instead to find the wonder 
and the marvel of an ordinary life.
Show them the joy of tasting 
tomatoes, apples and pears.
Show them how to cry 
when pets and people die.
Show them the infinite pleasure 
in the touch of a hand.
And made the ordinary come alive for them.
The extraordinary will take care of itself.

(W. Martin)

Who, being loved, is poor?

(~Oscar Wilde)

And thus, without a wing,
Or service of a keel,
Our summer made her light escape
Into the beautiful.

(~Emily Dickinson)

Today you will walk out your door into a world teeming with people carrying wounds and worries you will never see. A great many of those people will be so kind of heart that they set aside their troubles long enough to nod or smile or say hello. A few will even help you in some way large or small.

But there will be some as well who won’t follow the rules of Please and Thank You and Have a Good Day. They will be grumpy and mean. They will do horrible things. They will make you mourn the state of things.

That’s why my advice to you is carry a Grace Cup of your own. Dip into it frequently and as needed. For others and for yourself. Because it is a hard business, this thing called living.

(~Billy Coffey)

Midnight cancer 
is a bottomless pit 
where voices echo 
around and around 
endlessly 
repeating the same 
prayer: 
oh 
God...

Sooner or later, midnight 
cancer changes to 
morning 
cancer, 
brighter, 
more hopeful. 
Somewhere in the sun 
rises warm and round. 
Birds are singing.

After a while, 
morning cancer melts 
into afternoon cancer 
where it hides among chores: 
cut the grass, 
clean the downspouts, 
drain the noodles.

Later, the house falls silent 
and even the dog is asleep. 
There might or might not be rain. 
Without a sound 
you are falling, 
arms wide and circling. 
It is midnight. 
You have cancer.

(~Mary Braddish O’Connor from her collection “Say Yes Quickly”)