“All that is not given is lost” (unknown)
I can’t seem to find comfort among the comfortable. I fear my talent is sinking into the ground of complacency. Time is flowing past like a swift current. Today is the day to act. Every day is a new call to reach out in love. There is a haunting, a hounding, an agitation deep in my soul, a feeling that I am waiting for something while missing the invitation that is right under my nose.
Escaping from the simple duty of love is the single talent buried in the ground of fear. Taking the risk of self-emptying is the paradoxical comfort that I really seek, the true resting place for the restless heart.