"Let me not fail thee utterly by becoming a mere babbler instead of a saint."
—Ronda De Sola Chervin
Sitting at Starbucks, alone at a table designed for a large family, gazing pensively outward at the rain-filled dark over the top of my computer screen.
Actually, now that I've written that sentence (fragment), it describes more than this moment; in a poetic way, it also describes my whole day—well, mainly the facing-outward part. It wasn't until a couple of hours ago that I finally arrived at space and time to look inward, in search of something to blog about.
I haven't found it. No, that's not it: I've found too much.
So, as the deadline for blogging today approaches quickly, I think it's time to concede: I don't have time to compose today. (I probably chose the word compose here because I've been listening to beautiful hymns, and music by not-necessarily famous composers—such as this, and this—while trying, unsuccessfully, to unknot the as-though-jumbled-by-a-kitten mess of thought-yarn in my head.)
I opened with a quote from Ronda Chervin. I'll close with one too, without comment.
"St. Francis of Sales writes of how loving it is of our God to command us to love him, thereby annulling our sense of inequality and misery. Without that command we would think ourselves too unworthy to think of loving him. It also shows how much he wants our love. It made my heart burn to read it."Amen.