God’s glorious sense of timing and humor

God does not give us everything we want, but He does fulfill His promises,
leading us along the best and straightest paths to Himself.”

Dietrich Bonhoeffer

As I continue to walk this very new and most foreign life of mine, I find that
some days are easier than others…and as is the nature of life,
the ying and yang of it all, some days are much harder than others.

In reality and if I’m being honest, some days are really…simply put–
very dark and difficult.
And it is within those darker days, life can seem down right scary and dreadful.

I think major life transitions are like that.

I can tick off 4 of the top 5 major causes of stress very readily.
Those things found on the forms in doctor’s offices that ask
if you have had a significant life change regarding relationships,
finances, moving etc…
Check, check and check again.

So there are definitely days that include a lot more heavy lamentations versus
the desired uplifting jubilations.

Wednesday seemed to be such a day.

I found myself in the midst of my morning prayer time imploring God
to please draw ever near…as in I needed Him something fierce.
Tears streaked cheeks have become the norm..
And so ode to yearning to have that loving embrace offered by an ever loving Father…

Jolted back to the present, suddenly I heard the familiar whistle from
my phone indicating an incoming text message.

“Oh great” I heard myself muttering, “now even God is texting….”

I stopped mid imploring and reached for my phone.
I am more than accustomed to my days now seemingly being dictated by a simple text…
be it good or be it bad.
And that’s when I found the above little inspiration being offered by my cousin.

I felt new warm tears forming in my eyes as I read the words.

“Wow” I thought…”God’s timing really is something isn’t it?!”
A virtual otherworldly and most needed hug just as I prayed for Him
to please, oh please, draw near…and remember…despite the last 7 months
of hell, I still believe that there is no such thing as coincidence.

So following my prayer time and my typical morning cry, I
remembered that I had already taken the trash and recycling out,
putting it all by my car as I was needing to head to the dump.

I quickly re-grouped and grabbed my purse and keys, heading out to the car.
I needed to hurry up and get everything loaded into the back of my car…
hurrying up before…before somebody else found the trash.

And that’s when I saw it.
I stopped dead in my tracks.

The cat was sitting on the front porch watching what she must have perceived to be
the regular neighborhood dog…
a big black 400 pound “dog” helping himself to his very own private lunch bag.

I felt my blood pressure rising as I grabbed two long piece of cardboard.

“THAT’S IT BEAR!!!!
“YOU GET YOUR LAZY A%& UP THIS MINUTE AND MOVE!!!!

I was so mad I couldn’t see straight.

Yet there he sat… resting quite comfortably licking clean the discarded cans of
cat food while savoring the past its prime watermelon.
Never mind the scooped up cat litter, the discarded egg shells, the dirty paper towels
etc, etc, etc….

I continued ranting…walking within arms length waving my cardboard.

“I SAID GET UP!!!!!!”

And just like a scolded dog…he sheepishly looked down and away…
cutting sorrowful eyes back and forth.

“I’M NOT GOING TO SAY IT AGAIN, GET UP AND MOVE!!!”

I began whacking two cardboard sticks together in his face as he reluctantly
got up and moved back a few feet.
I could tell he wanted the empty cans of cat food.

“MOVE IT BEAR!”

I got louder and stood taller whacking my cardboard sticks together.
Finally, yet very reluctantly, my lazy dinner guest, scooted down the bank and
sat where he could see me…as I could see him.

I was ranting the entire time as I picked up the remnants of trash trailing
the driveway..stepping in a torn bag of nasty cat litter and nearly slipping on a couple
of peach pits.

I was yelling and lecturing at this young hooligan just I would any juvenile delinquent
caught doing something that was wrong…
trouble with my particular hooligan was that he was being an opportunist–
a hungry lazy opportunist.

And so as I finally shoved all the trash into a new bag and pushed it into
the back of my car, all the while still lecturing a lazy bear, I thought
of how my mood was prior to this latest bear encounter.

I was sad.
Going from sad to mad.
And that’s when I thought of God and His humor.

First He reminds me He does hear me and He does still love me…
just as He certainly thinks a good diversion is often a much needed cure.

The best way to pull oneself up and out of one’s own self…

“Know, dearest daughter, how, by humble, continual, and faithful prayer,
the soul acquires, with time and perseverance, every virtue.
Wherefore should she persevere and never abandon prayer…
The soul should advance by degrees, and I know well that,
just as the soul is at first imperfect and afterwards perfect,
so also is it with her prayer.
She should nevertheless continue in vocal prayer,
while she is yet imperfect, so as not to fall into idleness.
But she should not say her vocal prayers without joining them to mental prayer,
that is to say, that while she is reciting,
she should endeavor to elevate her mind in My love,
with the consideration of her own defects and of the
Blood of My only-begotten Son,
wherein she finds the breadth of My charity and the
remission of her sins.”

—St. Catherine Of Siena, p. 92

a wise adage

“Keep your friends close; keep your enemies closer.”
Sun Tzu


(foe or friend? / Julie Cook / 2022)

According to Wikipedia: “Sun Tzu was a Chinese general, military strategist,
writer, and philosopher who lived in the Eastern Zhou period of ancient China.
Sun Tzu is traditionally credited as the author of The Art of War,
an influential work of military strategy that has affected both Western
and East Asian philosophy and military thinking.
His works focus much more on alternatives to battle, such as stratagem,
delay, the use of spies and alternatives to war itself,
the making and keeping of alliances, the uses of deceit,
and a willingness to submit, at least temporarily, to more powerful foes.”

In the past I have often quoted this wise Chinese General…

There is much wisdom in knowing how to deal with those who we find to be
confrontational or adversarial.

Frustratingly more often than not, many of us will immediately lead with
a knee-jerk response when faced with hostility—
be it a verbal or even physical assault.

We tend to act before we think.

We most often immediately lash out…fighting back with wrathful words and or fists.
Even the idea of revenge begins to percolate just below the surface

Sadly, over these past many months,
I’ve been learning a great deal more than I care to about the notions of
friend vs foe.

And even now, in my new environment, I find that it continues to behoove
me to know the difference between those who say they are friends vs those who
truly act as friends.

And it seems that I have a new curious friend…
who is not some wandering dog mind you…
And may I add, I use the term friend rather loosely.

He’s a juvenile black bear who is probably on his own for his first season without mom.

He’s cute enough.

And a bit too curious.

One morning I caught him lumbering off from my back patio carrying something
red and white in his mouth.

My knee jerk was to open the door, grab a broom and chase after him shouting
“you’d better not be dropping someone else’s trash in my yard bear”

Maybe some would think such a reaction on my part to be a bit foolish but you must
remember, I taught high school for 31 years…I’m not too frightened by
this latest hooligan.

Well….my overtly curious friend dropped said white and red object
as he continued to scamper off.
Upon close inspection I realized I was seeing my new jug of bug-b-gone, minus the top,
gurgling all down the hillside.

I fretted he had ingested some before dropping it—but thankfully he did not.

On other occasions I have turned around in the kitchen only to suddenly
see my friend at the sliding glass door…
peering inside as if he wants to come in for a glass of lemonade and a chat.

So the other afternoon I thought a quick trip to a nearby garden center
was in order.

I shut all the sliding glass doors and locked everything up…or so I thought.

I wasn’t gone 40 minutes.
But that was 40 minutes just long enough for mayhem to come calling.

Upon returning home, I rounded the corner to the kitchen and that’s when I saw it…

The kitchen window, which I had forgotten to close, was now screenless as the
screen was in a mangled heap draping over the sink.

The items that I had rinsed out, so I could recycle them later, were
now missing from the sink.

From the screenless window I spied the empty creamer bottle out in the yard.

The milk carton and honey jar, yes honey jar, were scattered further down the back path.

But the most egregious….

The stained-glass Theotokos, the Greek Orthodox image of Mary and the infant Jesus, was
now shattered and broken to bits.

So.
Since I live in this bear’s neck of the woods…as in a mountain home…
I’m the one who is actually in his territory.

And thus the precarious dance of friend vs foe begins…

Do not repay anyone evil for evil.
Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everyone.
If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.
Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath,
for it is written: “It is mine to avenge;
I will repay,”says the Lord.
On the contrary:

“If your enemy is hungry, feed him;
if he is thirsty, give him something to drink.
In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.”
Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

Romans 12:17-21

fine lines

When were the saints at the height of their joy,
but when they were suffering for their God and Saviour?

St. Teresa of Avila,
In a letter to the Reverend Father Hohn de Jesu Roca,
Carmelite, at Pastrana


(Palmer Chapel Methodist Church / Cataloochee National / Cataloochee Valley in the
Smokey Mountains)

Something that I’ve long observed as a Christian is that we members
of the faithful flock often walk a fine line with our faith and following.

We do so because we have been programed by words like sin, guilt, suffering,
penance, punishment—words that have throughout time
become sentiments hammered into our heads—worn around our necks like a
an every growing weighted chain.
Sentiments that we must experience if we are to be true to our faith.
Simply put, the burden is part and parcel of life as a Christian.

Such teachings have been allowed to morph while getting tangled
and entwined in our mindset.
They become like a choking vine wrapped around a tender young sapling.
Eventually that choking vine outpaces and engulfs the poor sapling.

We are very much like that tender sapling…
striving to grow ever upward, seeking our place in the sun—or in our case
that is more like in and with the Son…but…sadly…
many of our Christian denominations have instilled in us a need to carry a
deep suffocating burden if we expect to be true followers of Christ…

And yes, we should note that that burden is in essence
our sinful nature and that of our sins…
of which I dare not wish to dismiss, diminish or make light of…
for as a sinner, I know all too well the deep and lasting effects sin
can have on our spiritual well being–especially
sin that is neither repented nor confessed let alone curtailed.

The fine line is found somewhere between redemption and that of the sin itself.

We should also note that not only do we bear the weight of our sins,
it’s as if we are expected to continue carrying the associated guilt and heaviness
of those sins and wrong doings despite our having confessed and having handed
them over to our Redeemer.
We are not allowed, nor do we allow ourselves, to truly feel the release,
the joy and the freedom that comes with redemption.

We are washed clean yet many of our denominations and religious teachings
have lead us to think, or better yet believe,
that we must constantly wear our hair shirts as a reminder
that we are never truly free.

And perhaps in many ways, we are not free.

We are tethered to this world and that of our own sinful nature.
Yet I honestly believe that Jesus wants to lighten our burdens
when we confess to him, yet in doing so, many of us, me included,
just can’t seem to shake the heaviness or associated guilt…guilt
the world and our ancient enemy would have us bear and claim despite
Jesus having claimed them for us in his death and resurrection.

It seems that I also have observed that we have been taught, again over time,
that we are to actually suffer for our faith.
And the question of this world then nags… if we are not heavy ladened and or suffering,
are we truly following as we should??

There are those who would say no.

And so we wrestle on…wrestling with our various doctrines as well as
ourselves.

Personally, I think Jesus has the better solution.
A solution I must embrace…I must listen for his call…
or perhaps that is more like I am yearning for his call…

Come unto me, all you who labour and are heavy laden,
and I will give you rest
(Matthew 11:28)

But go and learn what this means:
‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’
For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.

Matthew 9:13

survival and an old dog learning new tricks

“Go back?” he thought. “No good at all! Go sideways? Impossible! Go forward? Only thing to do! On we go!” So up he got, and trotted along with his little sword held in front of him and one hand feeling the wall, and his heart all of a patter and a pitter.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit


(my new neighbor is NOT a dog / Julie Cook / 2022)

Often when we reach a certain age in life…
an age where there is more life on the backside rather than what’s
on the front side, we have the tendency to become rather complacent.
We cling to the notion of ‘been there, done that’…in that we think we’ve pretty
much done, seen and experienced most everything that there is to experience.

We settle in while making ourselves comfortable.
We become glibly set in our ways of both coming and going.

Status quo seems to be the name of the game and if it’s not hurting, broken
or missing, all is well.

And then suddenly, out of nowhere, a seismic shift is felt…life happens.

Apple carts are upset.
Everything is turned upside down.
The norm is anything but
while we are suddenly left with a foreboding sense of trepidation.

And that’s when it happens.

That innate prewired sense of fight or flight kicks in.

It’s a better learn quick moment vs the consequence of ‘or else’…
The ‘or else’ situation is where one is left with the results of either surviving
or dying.

I think most of us are prewired for survival.
It’s in our nature…or so it seems.
Or at least it is in mine.

Now don’t get me wrong.
There have been, and continue being, plenty of days when I could readily pull
the covers over my head…
Nay, prefer to pull said covers!
All the while yearning never to emerge from bed…this as the thought of getting up
to face yet another day of the unknown, the painful, the troubling
leaves me weak-kneed, nauseated and flat out scared.

The tears come and go like fickled summer showers..popping up
when least expected or wanted.

And like those unexpected showers, they quickly come and go.

So as I begin to push my way through this thicket of the unknown.
I find myself charting new waters or rather waters I’d thought had been charted
and finished long ago.

So whoever really said you can’t teach an old dog new tricks might
never have known that some old dogs simply need to learn those new tricks
in order to survive.

Here’s to surviving while moving forward…

Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect,
but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own.
Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own.
But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward
to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward
call of God in Christ Jesus.

Philippians 3:12-14

believe in order to understand

“I do not seek to understand in order that I may believe,
but rather, I believe in order that I may understand.”

St. Anselm of Canterbury


(Stained glass of Saint Anselm in Chester Cathedral cloister | photo by Mum’s taxi)

“I was striving unto God but
collided with myself. I was seeking rest in my inner recesses but
found tribulation and grief in my inmost being.”

Anselm of Canterbury, Proslogion

“Lord, give me what you have made me want;
I praise and thank you for the desire that you have inspired;
perfect what you have begun, and grant me what you have made me long for.”

Anselm of Canterbury

your heart…house of traffic or house of God

Our technological society has no longer any place in it for wisdom
that seeks truth for its own sake, that seeks the fullness of being,
that seeks to rest in an intuition of the very ground of all being.
Without wisdom, the apparent opposition of action and contemplation,
of work and rest, of involvement and detachment,
can never be resolved.

Thomas Merton


(Spaghetti junction / Atlanta / Julie Cook / 2021)

Your heart.

Not the physical beating muscle within your chest that pumps life
sustaining blood racing throughout your body…
but rather I speak of the heart, the place where both your soul and
inner “being” each reside…

Is that heart, that place within your soul,
is that personal and private inner space a place of madness and confusion…
a place of never ending infuriating traffic?

Meaning… is your heart reeling, congested, frustrated, overwhelmed
and rife with rage?

or in contrast…is it…

a house of and for the omnipotent God…
that hallowed dwelling place of the Holy of Holies?
Is that very sacred place and space, is it a place where
the Great I Am can reside?
A place of interior silence, severe reverence and a place of
deafening peace?

I wonder.

And thus I must ask…are we, meaning both you and me…
are we oddly and surreally more content with the confusion, noise, madness
and chaos…the frenetic swill of uncertainty…
Are we actually afraid of finding that long awaited
overwhelming silence…are we afraid to find that astounding reverence
and that most deafening Peace?

Should we not actually be willing, or rather pleading, to quiet the rage within,
detach from this world and recollect our true home?

“Man will not consent to drive away the money-changers from
the temple of his soul until he realizes that it is a Holy of Holies—-
not a house of traffic, but in very truth the house of God.
We thus reach two striking conclusions:
There cannot be entire dependence upon the Holy Spirit’s guidance,
which is the true meaning of living in Christ, without complete self-renunciation.
There cannot be complete self-renunciation without the constant
underlying spirit of faith, without the habit of interior silence,
a silence where God is dwelling.
Many do not see the connection between thoughts about the King
and the service of the King; between the interior silence…
and the continual detachment…
If we look closer, it will be seen that there is a strong, close,
unbreakable link between the two.
Find a recollected person, and he will be detached;
seek one who is detached, and he will be recollected.
To have found one is to have discovered the other…
Anyone who tries, on a given day, to practice either recollection
or detachment cannot ignore the fact that he is doing a double stroke of work.”

Raoul Plus, S.J., p. 39-40

Warriors and gaurdians

So I walk up on high and I step to the edge
To see my world below
And I laugh at myself while the tears roll down
‘Cause it’s the world I know, it’s the world I know

Lyrics Collective Soul


(St Kevin’s Monastery, Glendalough / Co. Wicklow, Ireland /Julie Cook / 2015)

Some years are harder than others.
Some months are harder than others.
Some weeks are harder than others.
Some days are harder than others.
Some nights are harder than others
Some hours are harder than others.

We often feel as if we are traversing life alone.

Within as well as outward, we hear and see a myriad of attacks
hurled in our direction…

Voices whispering…
naysaying, lying, undermining…

We dip, dodge and stumble as we attempt to miss being blindsided.

These attacks come from the external world yet even more precariously
and dare we day dangerously,
these attacks come from our own individual internal worlds.

And so we spend our days tiptoeing through a minefield,
fearful that the next step might just be the last.

As that is exactly what our ancient nemesis would have us believe.

The lies, the emptiness, the loneliness, the deception…

Until a guardian, a warrior arrives by our side…

“Christians long ago concluded that each individual human being
has his or her own particular guardian angel.
Though the Church has never defined the teaching about
individual guardian angels, the Catechism of the Catholic Church
sums up the matter this way,
quoting St. Basil:
‘From infancy to death human life is surrounded by [the angels’]
watchful care and intercession.
Beside each believer stands an angel as protector and shepherd
leading him to life’.
In this light, we can turn to our guardian angels for help in spiritual warfare,
especially to resist the temptations of the Enemy.
Yet angels are more than guardians; they are also warriors.”

Paul Thigpen, p. 30
An Excerpt From
Manual for Spiritual Warfare, p30

the day after…

You desire that which exceeds my humble powers,
but I trust in the compassion and mercy of the All-powerful God.

Saint Stephen

“If you know what witness means, you understand why God brings St. Stephen,
St. John, and the Holy Innocents to the crib in the cave as soon as Christ
is born liturgically. To be a witness is to be a martyr.
Holy Mother Church wishes us to realize that we were born in baptism
to become Christ — He who was the world’s outstanding Martyr.”

Love Does Such Things, by Rev. M. Raymond, O.C.S.O.


(the recycle bin / Julie Cook / 2021)

The paper is torn and discarded.
the ribbons are cut and forgotten…
while the bows are simply tossed aside.

The table is a cluttered mess.
Dishes, bowls, plates, glasses all sit scattered in a skewed
disarrayed jumble.

Empty boxes long to be filled while other empty boxes are
forlornly broken down.

The moving of seasons…the in between of what was and what must be…

Is there a glow in the aftermath of what was?
Or does there remain a sense of longing?

The secular world clashes with the world of Christian heritage.

The calendar tells us that today is Boxing day…
the newspapers tell us it is the day for after Christmas sales.
Yet the Church calendar tells us that today is the
feast day of St.Stephen.

Previous posts have been written about both–

And yet we cannot ignore the fact that we are reminded that there
remains a history…
a history that is both ancient as well as more recent.

A clash of time and space…
between the then and now.

And whereas most of us have lived these past four weeks though
the season of Advent–a four week anticipation of light while we
transition from what will be to that of the miraculous…
we must remember that our world does not stop on December 25th.

St Stephen reminds us of this.
The first recorded Christian martyr.

Oddly or purposely we are reminded that sacrifice must follow
the joy of birth.
Or are the two not already intertwined?

It seems as if we are dogged by the specter of death.
Unfair as that may seem.

Here we are basking in the joy of the innocence of birth yet we are
reminded that sacrifice must follows directly behind that joy.

Yet if there was or is anyone who had to understand the notion of sacrifice,
it would be Mary.
A woman who’s heart would be pierced.

And so as we begin the transition between then and now..the old and the new..,
may we be reminded that we are afforded but a brief time in which to bask
in our joy…for tomorrow will always remind us, time is of the essence,

There were thus two things which the Savior did for us by becoming Man.
He banished death from us and made us anew; and,
invisible and imperceptible as in Himself He is,
He became visible through His works and revealed Himself
as the Word of the Father,
the Ruler and King of the whole creation.

St. Athanasius,
On the Incarnation

bloom more beautifully

“Be patient, because the weaknesses of the body are given to us in
this world by God for the salvation of the soul.
So they are of great merit when they are borne patiently.”

St. Francis of Assisi


(Julie Cook / 2019)

“Strong passions are the precious raw material of sanctity.
Individuals who have carried their sinning to extremes should not despair or say,
‘I am too great a sinner to change,’or
‘God would not want me.’ God will take anyone who is willing to love,
not with an occasional gesture, but with a ‘passionless passion,
‘a ‘wild tranquility’.
A sinner, unrepentant, cannot love God,
any more than someone on dry land can swim;
but as soon as a person takes his errant energies to God and asks
for their redirection, he will become happy, as he was never happy before.
It is not the wrong things one has already done that keep one from God;
it is present persistence in that wrong.
Someone who turns back to God, as the Magdalene and Paul,
welcomes the discipline that will enable him to change his former tendencies.
Mortification is good, but only when it is done out of love of God….
Mortifications of the right sort perfect our human nature;
the gardener cuts the green shoots from the root of the bush,
not to kill the rose, but to make it bloom more beautifully.”

Venerable Fulton Sheen, p. 185

Dark night triggers

“In the evening of life, we will be judged on love alone.”
St. John of the Cross

“The endurance of darkness is the preparation for great light.”
St. John of the Cross

So a few weeks ago, I decided that I wanted–or maybe that should read,
I needed to revisit a dear old friend…St. John of the Cross.

I felt St. John’s own ‘dark night of the soul’ calling my own lonely
darkened soul.

For a quick bit of background on my ancient friend…according to Wikipedia
John of the Cross (born Juan de Yepes y Álvarez;
Spanish: Juan de la Cruz; 24 June 1542 – 14 December 1591),
venerated as Saint John of the Cross, was a Spanish Catholic priest,
mystic, and a Carmelite friar of converso origin.
He is a major figure of the Counter-Reformation in Spain,
and he is one of the thirty-six Doctors of the Church.

John of the Cross is known especially for his writings.
He was mentored by and corresponded with the older Carmelite, Teresa of Ávila.
Both his poetry and his studies on the development of the soul
are considered the summit of mystical Spanish literature and among
the greatest works of all Spanish literature.
He was canonized by Pope Benedict XIII in 1726.
In 1926 he was declared a Doctor of the Church by Pope Pius XI,
and is commonly known as the “Mystical Doctor”.

And thus I went searching for my own copy of St. John’s book
as I find that sometimes…I simply desperately
need a Christian mystic in the worst of ways!

So I began to search…
Where was it???
Where was my book?

Was it on a bookshelf?
Was it in a box that might have been overlooked in the move?
Was it in this stack or that stack??

I scoured every book I owned.
I scanned every shelf in the house.
I tore every drawer in the house apart.
I rummaged through every box and tub that remains squirreled away in a
new basement.

Had it ended up in the yard sale by accident?
Had it errantly gone to the Goodwill?
Or worse—had it been borrowed???

St. John and his dark night were no where to be found.
All of which seemed to be adding to my own oppressively growing darkness.

However, I actually think that oppressive darkness of mine was probably due
to too much digested news…but I digress.

And thus, I knew my only recourse…order another book!
Of which I did.

When the package arrived in the mail, I was so excited to greet my
dear old friend.

And for those of you who know me, you know that I treasure my books!

I was so excited opening the package and pulling out the small new treasure
tucked neatly within.

Excitedly, I opened the book…
savoring the newness and crispness of each fresh page.

I looked excitedly and expectantly at those first few pages…
all with great anticipation.
And that is when I first saw it…
It was the moment I felt the collision of both then and now.
An odd yet sickening juxtaposition of time and space.

This was when I first saw something I found almost repugnant given who it was that
I was reading—reading the deep personal struggle of one who had the courage
and the gift to write about what we all have each struggled over…
that very depth of wondering…”God are you there? Do you hear me?”

Immediately I stopped dead in my tracks…
did I just catch an odd out of place “warning” of all things????

A trigger warning for St. John of the Cross.
I felt a bit of heat rising up into my cheeks.

This book is a product of its time and does not reflect the same values as
it would if it were written today. Parents night wish to discuss with
their children how views on race have changed before
allowing them to read this classic work.”

“Oh really–does not reflect the same values??”–
I found myself speaking aloud for anyone present to hear.

Despite what one might think, I will opt not to jump on my soapbox today…
for I have done so often here in this little corner of mine in
this blogosphere of ours.

I just fret that when I see what we are allowing in our schools as now,
we feel threatened by a 16th century mystic monk.

It amazes me what we are allowing our children to exposed to and yet
we opt to censor a Christian mystic.

I just don’t seem to know us anymore and that is what i think troubles me most.

“If a man wishes to be sure of the road he treads on,
he must close his eyes and walk in the dark.”

St. John of the Cross