Some people prefer being described as "spiritual" instead of "religious." Here's an article from the Tennessean that offers information on locals who are seeking an alternative path to the Divine. As for me, the word "religious" doesn't offend or limit me.
A friend and I talk about how even when we make great plans for ourselves, sometimes life brings us something even more than we had allowed our hearts to imagine. We ruminated over what a gift that can be, and wondered if it makes us expect too much sometimes. We decided, in the end, that the risk is worth it.
On a recent trip to the beach I was so intent on capturing pictures of the pelicans that I almost forgot to stop and gape at the wonder of such a strange-looking but remarkably agile bird. In my desperate attempt to preserve the moment, I almost forgot to savor it. I caught on, though, before I found the sand dollars.
Today is the last day for the Vishnu exhibit at the Frist. Go!
Some people thought today would be Judgment Day, in which those saved by Jesus would be taken from Earth. This, according to Harold Camping, over at Family Radio.
While visiting a church today, a young man tapped me on the shoulder at the end of the service. How nice, I thought, that someone is going to introduce himself to me. This is a friendly place!
"Excuse me, ma'am," he said. "But I noticed that your tag is still on your blouse. Would you like me to tear it off for you?"
I've long thought I'd like to set up a small altar in my home, a sacred space I can go to when I want to pray or calm myself. What would I put there? A candle, yes, probably one of my favorite scents, something citrusy. A prayer book. The rosary my sister-in-law made for me when I married her brother. A picture of my father, perhaps, dead now some ten years.
I'm still a sucker for an Easter basket chock full of candy and small gifts, just like in the days of my childhood. But today I'm also more and more aware of the passage of time, and therefore more likely to treasure the intangibles that give meaning to a life, like how our rituals matter in terms of memories, and traditions, and coming together.
Last weekend I was lucky enough to spend time with two longtime friends, women I don't see often because we live in different states. Despite our geographical distances, we've been through a lot together. They are inspiration to me, and comfort and sanity and sounding board. Now that the three of us are hitting 50 this year, we hope to survive even more with one another's support.
I find myself not in a crisis of faith, but a crisis of faith community. I can't seem to find a place to call my church home. So I've been visiting area churches. Recently I've been to a church, twice, that does things like send visitors emails and letters. And the people in the Sunday school class reach out to strangers and remember our names.
It was just an average Saturday morning back in April 2009 when Kelly Jent's life changed forever. Kelly, a Springfield resident and 33-year-old mother of three, was helping a friend with a yard sale when she suddenly felt the uncontrollable urge to go to the bathroom.
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