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This room is for those who have lost a spouse and need support or who can provide support to those who have.

Saint Paula is the patron saint of widows and Saint Stephen is the patron saint of deacons
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There is an old therapist joke...

The patient just left the office, and the therapist is writing up his notes. "Patient hears voices in his head." The therapist sits back, thinks for a moment, and then continues writing, "Problem with patient is not that he hears voices, but that he is not listening to them."

Exactly.

Time to stretch, crack knuckles, roll neck back and forth, flex fingers, poise fingers over keyboard....


..wait...cue up the music first....ATB's "What about us?" www.youtube.com

we think too much, and listen to our hearts too little....

we think too much about what other people think...we spend too much time trying to be someone that pleases other people, and too little time pleasing ourselves. It's a paradox: there is too little selfishness in the world. Not selfishness in the sense of "I need more stuff" or the morally relativistic selfishness of our truly disturbed culture, but instead in the sense of taking time first to be healthy alone, to meet our needs first, to be comfortable in our own skin.

Love is not a race to find someone to distract us from ourselves.

If we think that we need someone to be complete, we're not listening to our own voice. And by our "own voice," I really mean being quiet long enough to allow grace to work in and through us.


We need to empty ourselves....we're not going to do that by posting obsessively to Facebook fifteen or twenty times a day...there you have the the perfect "look at me" narcissism of our culture. Facebook is too often some kind of robotic substitute for life. Putnam had it right in "Bowling Alone." We have lost the ability to come together as a community. My own church, Catholic as it is, is an empty shell of a community, with a small handful of people, perhaps less than 1% of the total registered families, doing 98% of the work needed to take care of the building and grounds, help the sick and the lonely, prepare the altar for Mass every week, and the million other things that need to be done.

Catholicism has largely succumbed to the narcissism of the culture....too many Catholics are saying, "I don't get anything out of Mass." And many of them drift away to the entertainment-based made up churches: Riverstone, NorthStar, cowboy church, TruePath, RightWay, all the pathetically comical names that grifter preachers dream up to attract the lost, using "contemporary" music and a promise that "God loves you just the way you are."

That's the big lie....if God loves us just the way we are, what was the whole scourging at the pillar thing about? If we are perfect just the way we are, God did not need to send his Son to die a horrific death on a cross.

We're broken.

We've always been broken, since the first day life was breathed into us.

Our job in life is to discover what God wants us to be, not to be comfortable with being narcissistically selfish.

where was I?

oh yeah....listening to the voices...we've come to a place where it is just too damned easy to drown out the still quiet voice of grace in our heads. I'm shocked at all the people, especially younger people, who walk around ALL DAY LONG with their earbuds drowning out the life around them. We've grown an entire generation of people hooked to some electronic device that drowns out not only the world around them but the sound of their own thoughts....and then they wonder why they are unhappy.

I love my music, and I love being able to take it with me, but I know it is not an authentic substitute for participating in reality, in being aware of the people around me, of having enough situational awareness to cross the street safely, of being able to see...really see the grandeur of creation.

The study of fractal geometry should be required of every Catholic. One of the constants that keeps showing up throughout nature is the 1:1.42 ratio, sometimes called the fractal constant. Leaves, rivers, crystals, marshes, coastlines, and many other parts of the physical world are organized according to this ratio. It's amazing once you begin to look around...God had a plan, and it was good. The entire universe, at some level, is organized according to a single number. And the atheists think this all happened by accident.

As much as I have resisted it throughout my life, God had and still has a plan for me. Looking back, I see it in every good and bad thing that ever happened to me. Grace is ever flowing through us, by us, and around us, but we have to be quiet to see it, to sense it, to listen to the still quiet voice of grace. Call it the voice in your head. But grace is quiet, and needs quiet to be heard.

One of the things that took me a long to understand is that God is a constant, just like the number 1.42. God is always in the same place, always waiting, always light-filled. God never gives up.

We give up.

We turn away from the constant. We turn away from the light. As we turn away and walk, we enter further into the dark. Some of us never find our way back.

So how do we hear? We hear by becoming quiet, and to do so, we have to unplug from wanting. We must empty ourselves to make the space and to create the quiet for grace to work.

St. Francis had it figured out. "It is in giving that we receive."

Put another way, there is no receiving without giving.

Ahh, there it is, finally. The point.

We become a willing receptacle for grace by pouring ourselves out, by emptying ourselves, by abandoning the "look at me" culture. We must, again paradoxically, become selfish. We have to stop expecting others to meet our needs, and start meeting our own needs--that's the selfish part. And we meet our own needs in part by giving, rather than taking. As I said, it's a paradox. It's the paradox of grace.

We find love by giving up on love. We find love by giving up on hoping someone else brings us love. We find love by giving up on thinking we need someone else to be complete. We find love by loving...right now, right this minute, by doing something, anything, for someone else. And the quickest way we find love is to right now, right this minute, do something loving for someone who cannot love back.

The paradox of grace again.

I have to remind myself constantly, "Give up on love." Nothing else works. The minute I start looking for love, I am lost, I am selfish, I have turned away from the light, I stop listening to the voice of grace in my head.

The old country Western song "Looking for love in the all the wrong places" was only half right. Looking for love is wrong, period.

Love finds us.

Love is a gift of grace, nothing else. Love is not a human emotion. Love is supernatural. We cannot make love, we cannot manufacture it. We cannot find it at Costco. The idea that we can find love comes from the devil, and is the root of the rot in our culture. We love our things too much....and the more things we have, paradoxically again, the less we feel, the less we are able to listen, the less we are able to empty ourselves, the less grace we receive.

If I stop looking for love, love might just find me.

Why do we keep looking? It is our fallen nature. Original sin is, I think, the idea that we can find love, that we can find love without giving in to God's will. Original sin is, I think, the idea that we can find love without loving, without loving ourselves and without loving others.

There is that paradox again...isn't loving ourselves selfish? That idea comes straight from the devil, and is ultimately our downfall.

God promises us that we are made in his image. If we accept that, then we should, we must love who we are. Not being able to recognize the goodness in ourselves is, at some level, a turning away from God. And if we are not able to love ourselves, then we are on the devil's banana peel again, looking for others to complete us, instead of recognizing our own supernatural gifts and completing ourselves by getting quiet, making room for the voice of grace, and turning towards the light.

Stop looking for love. Start loving...




















06/22/2012 new

Andrew,

Your writings are very inspiriing. My late husband had the same view about love and faith, He even started a blog when he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. It was titled" Get close to God.com. I kept the blog up for 2 years and took it down. I kept the copies of it. He used to write a lot. I have notebooks of his handwritten notes about a lot of spiritual thoughts. His plan was to publish a book as a layman's spirituality. He loved books and writing. He used to say he was counter cultural, therefore, nobody understands him.

I am happy to hear that you are one of them. God bless you and your children with graces and blessings.

I totally agree with you about the lack of solitude, quietness, being still and listen to the voice of God in our modern society. I feel sympathy for the people who are walking with 2 wires attached to their ears or even crossing the roads and on public shuttles (I take one from the parking lot to the hospital) everyday with texting. Unfortunately, people become slaves to the electronic media. Today people don't want to talk, want to text. Call me old fashioned. I still have my old cell phone, no texting. Cell phone is for emergency calls. I spend almost every Saturday and Sunday morning calling and talking to my family and friends, friends who are in their old age and living alone. I want to hear their voice and let them know that I care for them, and if they need me I will be there for them.

We have to pray for everyone , it is our duty. Thank you Andrew.

06/22/2012 new

Your words/writing seem to flow with an anointing. Have you considered blogging for CM?

06/23/2012 new

I have to remind myself all the time that there is a metaphysical difference between being alone and feeling lonely. Being alone is a physical state; there is no debate about being alone. You are or you are not. You determine if you are alone by inspection. You can prove that you are alone empirically.

Try that the next time you are feeling lonely.

Feeling lonely is a choice. It could even be a lifestyle. Yea, that’s right. Loneliness can be a lifestyle. That’s what I have to keep reminding myself. Loneliness can be a hobby. Loneliness can be a neurosis. Loneliness can be an addiction.

…wait…I’ve just remembered…I’ve got the music in me…I’m still stuck on ATB. When I find a group or a musician I like, I go deep. I buy half a dozen albums. I put them on infinite loop. I play them until I don’t need earbuds anymore. When I have a song playing in my head without the iPod, I know I’ve gone deep enough.

When the kids were young, I went through a Capercaille phase. It wasn’t just Karen Matheson’s voice, but it was the total package….the deep sadness of a lost culture, the breathy sexiness of Gaelic, the irresistible blend of traditional Irish melodies, jazz, and deep drumming…it was, in part, the thrumming. The kids always wondered what the heck that language was, but I had a plan…I’ve implanted some deep seed of Gaelic in their brains…perhaps ten or twenty or thirty years from now, that seed will sprout, some deep memory of childhoold….”I know that language, at least the sound of it, that’s what Dad used to play.”

where was I…always losing my place….oh, yea, lifestyle choices…

One of the wisest men I ever had the privilege of knowing described it with a parable.

You are riding a crowded bus…maybe the Manhattan mid-town express during rush hour. The bus is packed, and there is no place to sit. You’re a straphanger, jammed into the middle of the bus, standing in the aisle, facing towards the back, trying not bump or fall into any of your fellow passengers as you all sway back and forth as the bus stops and starts down Madison Avenue.

All of sudden, you feel a sharp blow right in the middle of your back. A bolt of pain flashes up your back and right into your head. What the…? You are outraged; you twist around to face the person that caused the pain, determined to shout at them to be careful. As you turn around, you see the cause of your pain. A blind person, wearing dark glasses and carrying the red-tipped white cane, has accidentally jabbed you with the top of their cane.

Your anger disappears. You can see that they are not even aware that their cane had jabbed you. They are turned sideways, facing out the left hand windows of the bus. You shrug off the pain and start thinking about what you will have for dinner.

What happened?

You were angry. You were ready to yell at the person who bumped into you. But here’s the thing. You were not “angry.” You were *feeling* angry. Once you had assessed the situation: oh, blind person, accident, nothing to see here, move along, your anger disappeared.

No, wait. Remember this is about the metaphysical aspects of feeling lonely and loneliness.

Anger does not “disappear.”

On that bus, in an instant, you chose.

You chose, in that instant of perfect understanding of the actual event. You chose not to be angry any more.

And that’s what I have to keep reminding myself. I choose to feel lonely. Which, as I have noted, is not the same as being alone.

When I am feeling lonely, I have work to do. Literally. If I am feeling lonely, it means, for me, that I am not doing something I should be doing. Cleaning the kitchen. Sweeping the garage. Cutting the grass. Sorting the Tupperware. Something.

The Buddhists would say, “Chop wood and carry water.” Meaning that serenity, however slowly it arrives, arrives only by attending to the chores, tasks, and responsibilities of daily life.

Om. Oops, I meant to type “In” and in some kind of Freudian slip, I typed the Buddhist word “om.” Now that’s funny.

Back to the real world.

In Christianity, the Buddhist equivalent of chopping wood and carrying water would be works. And doing good works is not just spending a year in Calcutta working at Mother Teresa’s hospice. That’s the old Catholic guilt thing, that we are only good when we doing something for someone else.

My deceased wife worked for Dorothy Day for a time. Dorothy told her once that she did not want any do-gooders around her, that she only wanted people who truly understood what Christian charity was. Jesus told us….charity should be anonymous. And selfless. If we are working at the soup kitchen so that we feel better, we’re failing.

…oops, the paradox of selfishness again….we can only feel better when we stop trying to feel better….and now we are back to carrying water and chopping wood. We take care by not caring. We love by not wanting to be loved.

What was it that Yoda said? That little green puppet had it exactly right…”Do or do not. There is no try.”

So we are back to the bus. On the bus, there was no,”Well, I’ll TRY not be angry.” Instead, in a single microsecond of firing synapses, we chose not to be angry.

So it is when I feel lonely. I have to remind myself, over and over, if I am feeling lonely, I am not doing something I should be doing. I am not praying. Or I am not writing. Or I am not scrubbing out the toilets.

Feeling lonely is always, at bottom, not taking care. Of myself.

Feeling lonely is always, at bottom, not being better than I was yesterday…not being better than I am today.

Pop Quiz: What collides with beauty?


Answer: www.youtube.com


Bonus points if you turn it up to eleven.

Extra bonus points if you dance. Alone.

Even more extra bonus points if you smile while dancing. Alone.

It's your choice.

06/23/2012 new
Happiness is a choice. Sometimes it takes pink polka dots, bubbles, and the smell of fresh cookies, however, happiness is something I leap to. It is easy to have faith in easy times and when life is predictable, but our faith is defined by what we do when times get tough. Life isn't always fair, but why is it that I , like many other people of faith, get stuck in what I want on earth? I have never been angry with God over Phil's death. He was 44 and full of life. I did wonder why him and not me, but I see the hand of God working in the ashes of my life. It is pretty amazing to my faith being defined and blazing for people to see, I may be scared, but happiness comes from knowing that all is well with my soul. In the dark moments, I fall into my faith and I wait. I may not see the hand of God working, but I know it is. I choose to leap.
06/23/2012 new
(Quote) Andrew-865848 said: I have to remind myself all the time that there is a metaphysical difference between being alone and feeling l...
(Quote) Andrew-865848 said:

I have to remind myself all the time that there is a metaphysical difference between being alone and feeling lonely. Being alone is a physical state; there is no debate about being alone. You are or you are not. You determine if you are alone by inspection. You can prove that you are alone empirically.



Try that the next time you are feeling lonely.



Feeling lonely is a choice. It could even be a lifestyle. Yea, that’s right. Loneliness can be a lifestyle. That’s what I have to keep reminding myself. Loneliness can be a hobby. Loneliness can be a neurosis. Loneliness can be an addiction.



…wait…I’ve just remembered…I’ve got the music in me…I’m still stuck on ATB. When I find a group or a musician I like, I go deep. I buy half a dozen albums. I put them on infinite loop. I play them until I don’t need earbuds anymore. When I have a song playing in my head without the iPod, I know I’ve gone deep enough.



When the kids were young, I went through a Capercaille phase. It wasn’t just Karen Matheson’s voice, but it was the total package….the deep sadness of a lost culture, the breathy sexiness of Gaelic, the irresistible blend of traditional Irish melodies, jazz, and deep drumming…it was, in part, the thrumming. The kids always wondered what the heck that language was, but I had a plan…I’ve implanted some deep seed of Gaelic in their brains…perhaps ten or twenty or thirty years from now, that seed will sprout, some deep memory of childhoold….”I know that language, at least the sound of it, that’s what Dad used to play.”



where was I…always losing my place….oh, yea, lifestyle choices…





One of the wisest men I ever had the privilege of knowing described it with a parable.



You are riding a crowded bus…maybe the Manhattan mid-town express during rush hour. The bus is packed, and there is no place to sit. You’re a straphanger, jammed into the middle of the bus, standing in the aisle, facing towards the back, trying not bump or fall into any of your fellow passengers as you all sway back and forth as the bus stops and starts down Madison Avenue.



All of sudden, you feel a sharp blow right in the middle of your back. A bolt of pain flashes up your back and right into your head. What the…? You are outraged; you twist around to face the person that caused the pain, determined to shout at them to be careful. As you turn around, you see the cause of your pain. A blind person, wearing dark glasses and carrying the red-tipped white cane, has accidentally jabbed you with the top of their cane.



Your anger disappears. You can see that they are not even aware that their cane had jabbed you. They are turned sideways, facing out the left hand windows of the bus. You shrug off the pain and start thinking about what you will have for dinner.



What happened?



You were angry. You were ready to yell at the person who bumped into you. But here’s the thing. You were not “angry.” You were *feeling* angry. Once you had assessed the situation: oh, blind person, accident, nothing to see here, move along, your anger disappeared.



No, wait. Remember this is about the metaphysical aspects of feeling lonely and loneliness.



Anger does not “disappear.”



On that bus, in an instant, you chose.



You chose, in that instant of perfect understanding of the actual event. You chose not to be angry any more.



And that’s what I have to keep reminding myself. I choose to feel lonely. Which, as I have noted, is not the same as being alone.



When I am feeling lonely, I have work to do. Literally. If I am feeling lonely, it means, for me, that I am not doing something I should be doing. Cleaning the kitchen. Sweeping the garage. Cutting the grass. Sorting the Tupperware. Something.



The Buddhists would say, “Chop wood and carry water.” Meaning that serenity, however slowly it arrives, arrives only by attending to the chores, tasks, and responsibilities of daily life.



Om. Oops, I meant to type “In” and in some kind of Freudian slip, I typed the Buddhist word “om.” Now that’s funny.



Back to the real world.



In Christianity, the Buddhist equivalent of chopping wood and carrying water would be works. And doing good works is not just spending a year in Calcutta working at Mother Teresa’s hospice. That’s the old Catholic guilt thing, that we are only good when we doing something for someone else.



My deceased wife worked for Dorothy Day for a time. Dorothy told her once that she did not want any do-gooders around her, that she only wanted people who truly understood what Christian charity was. Jesus told us….charity should be anonymous. And selfless. If we are working at the soup kitchen so that we feel better, we’re failing.



…oops, the paradox of selfishness again….we can only feel better when we stop trying to feel better….and now we are back to carrying water and chopping wood. We take care by not caring. We love by not wanting to be loved.



What was it that Yoda said? That little green puppet had it exactly right…”Do or do not. There is no try.”



So we are back to the bus. On the bus, there was no,”Well, I’ll TRY not be angry.” Instead, in a single microsecond of firing synapses, we chose not to be angry.



So it is when I feel lonely. I have to remind myself, over and over, if I am feeling lonely, I am not doing something I should be doing. I am not praying. Or I am not writing. Or I am not scrubbing out the toilets.



Feeling lonely is always, at bottom, not taking care. Of myself.



Feeling lonely is always, at bottom, not being better than I was yesterday…not being better than I am today.





Pop Quiz: What collides with beauty?




Answer: www.youtube.com




Bonus points if you turn it up to eleven.



Extra bonus points if you dance. Alone.



Even more extra bonus points if you smile while dancing. Alone.



It's your choice.

--hide--
Very profound & I needed to see this thread at exactly this time. Thank you for sharing.

biggrin angel wave
07/04/2012 new

I lost something. I had it, and then it was gone. A moment of clarity. No, it was moments of clarity. But now they are gone, and I want those moments back. A death in the family has that effect; you lose something. And someone. And there is no getting it or them back.

So there is nothing to do but turn up the music again....listen for the beat. I heard it on the long roll back up to the mountains, that silent song that trills so faintly. And then it was gone.

On the bright side, everything is proceeding according to plan. And the plan is to have no plan. I am aware lately of the danger of pride. Of thinking I know better than God what I need. That’s pride, pure naked unvarnished pride; the original sin. All other sin, I think, derives from pride. My struggle is to discern between needs and wants. What I want is rarely what I need. And I rarely know what I need, beyond the usual “I need food, shelter, and clothing.”

No plan.

I keep coming back to the Buddhist ideal of chopping wood and carrying water: the notion that attention to our every day tasks forms us, humbles us, allows us to learn patience. God sent me some wood to chop; I think He has a sense of humor. A massive eighty foot oak on my neighbor’s property broke in half, and the top forty feet of this huge tree trans-located about fifteen feet, over my back fence, and landed standing up against a hickory tree. A large branch broke off and smashed a couple of Adirondack chairs, but there is otherwise no damage.

Who has heard of such a thing? The top half of this tree missed a car parked directly under it, and if it had fallen over in the other direction, it would have split my neighbor’s house in half. Instead it landed standing straight up. I was perplexed at first when I looked out my window Monday morning. Where did that tree come from? I kept looking around at ground level, and just couldn’t process it for a moment. I finally looked up and saw the forty foot stump over on my neighbor’s property. So I spent the day chopping wood. It was an exercise in patience, as this was not what I had planned for the Fourth of July. But God did; it was his plan that I chop wood today. So I did.

I think it was angels.

It’s the only explanation I have. As the tree broke in half, angels grabbed it, carried it over the fence, and placed it upright against my hickory tree, where it would do the least possible damage to me or my neighbor. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it, as I have no other explanation for how several tons of wood would fly vertically through the air. Reminds me of Padre Pio, who could bi-locate and during World War II, flew alongside some American bombers headed for San Giovanni, the town where his monastery was located. The pilots in the lead plane saw a little friar in a brown robe flying alongside, motioning to them to turn back. So they did. At the time, they had no idea who the crazy guy flying through the air was. But after the war, one of the pilots saw a picture of Padre Pio and recognized him as the little friar who had flown next to his plane.

When I think things are not going my way (ah, pride again), I try to remember Padre Pio, who was forbidden to say Mass in public for some years. There were priests and bishops who thought he was some kind of charlatan. So here was this saintly man, persecuted by the Church he loved so much. So he chopped wood and carried water. He obeyed. He accepted God’s plan.

Saintliness, I think, is simply giving in to God in all things. Easily said, and not so easily done. Especially on Friday nights. And then I have to remind myself that what I want, at that moment, is almost certainly not what I need. Why should I have to remind myself to simply do what needs to be done? There is always something that needs doing, and yet I resist. Steven Pressfield, in The War of Art, says that resistance is the devil, exploiting our fallen nature, whispering to us to do what we want, rather than what we need. Resistance encourages us to avoid our true selves, resistance does not want to us bent to God’s will. Resistance wants us fallen.

I have to keep reminding myself, "Shut up and write." Sometimes I get it right. Sometimes I don't.

But the music helps....www.youtube.com

07/04/2012 new
St. Padre Pio exhorted us to pray, pray without ceasing. I struggle with what I want versus what I have. I fail to see the hand of God working. While I would never, ever say that Phil's assassination at the hands of someone he trusted qualifies for God's will, I do think that God knew exactly how many hours and days he was going to live. I believe that Phil was blessed in his barely 44 years because God knew what was going to be asked of him. I prayed daily that God would let me be the person he was calling me to be. I did this for four years--almost five. Do I think God took Phil? No, I think he received Phil. Does that make the pain less? Does that mean that because of my prayer Phil's life was asked? No, I don't think so. I think God knew it would take that much time for my soul to be ready. Having said that, I struggle with what I want versus what I get. I have received so many blessings and Grace, but I have never felt so alone. I am scared and unsure, but I see how God is working through the ashes of y life. I see a stronger more resilient girl than I ever thought I was. I just keep stepping, writing, running, and hoping that God has a bigger plan for a chapter two than I can see.
07/04/2012 new
St. Padre Pio exhorted us to pray, pray without ceasing. I struggle with what I want versus what I have. I fail to see the hand of God working. While I would never, ever say that Phil's assassination at the hands of someone he trusted qualifies for God's will, I do think that God knew exactly how many hours and days he was going to live. I believe that Phil was blessed in his barely 44 years because God knew what was going to be asked of him. I prayed daily that God would let me be the person he was calling me to be. I did this for four years--almost five. Do I think God took Phil? No, I think he received Phil. Does that make the pain less? Does that mean that because of my prayer Phil's life was asked? No, I don't think so. I think God knew it would take that much time for my soul to be ready. Having said that, I struggle with what I want versus what I get. I have received so many blessings and Grace, but I have never felt so alone. I am scared and unsure, but I see how God is working through the ashes of y life. I see a stronger more resilient girl than I ever thought I was. I just keep stepping, writing, running, and hoping that God has a bigger plan for a chapter two than I can see.
07/05/2012 new

You all write so well. I don't know that I do but I feel moved to share.

Unfortunately, I do not believe there is any way to speed up "the ability to go on" or "recover" or "get our balance back" or any of the other ways we try to express our overwhelming grief no longer being overwhelming. Another person cannot fill that void and I do not believe it is fair to enter a relationship without being whole. I have certainly done my share of sobbing and feeling overwhelmed and totally lost and alone. I reached that peak a while ago and am coming down the other side..............thank you Dear Lord and I truly give you thanks and praise.

I have very recently discovered some writings and thoughts of the Carmelites which fits with what I believe. That God dwells within each of us if we ask him and once we have received him and given him a place within ourselves, we see him in everything around us. He is all powerful. All loving. I cannot put sense to my life alone.........but, he can and I trust him to lead me.............always. No matter where that goes or involves - I have only to listen to him.

I agree happiness is a choice and when you can't cry anymore then it is time to turn it around. There is no hurrying the emptying out though - it takes whatever time it takes. Sadness, lonliness can become a way of life. One can be alone and not lonely or sad. I haven't completely figured out the direction I am going in. I believe God has led me to a prayer group I recently joined. I resigned a job position that had a lot of "junk" I couldn't deal with anymore and am starting a new position on Monday. I believe this will be a very positive change and that God has allowed it to fall in place. I have come to realize that what doesn't feel right and doesn't fall in place is likely where I am not supposed to be. My goal is to support the people around me and whose paths cross mine and to become a more faith filled loving person. I am hopeful the rest will fall in place. I do know that God works with the ashes and somehow makes us whole again.

I do not mean to imply I have all the answers. I work on it everyday. The music does help - as do long walks. Pretty beaches. The ocean. Allowing the soul to rest.................

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