Category: Perseverance

“Just As I Am/Tal Como Soy”

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I can still remember the sound of my grandmother’s aged, beautiful, magical, and throaty voice singing the stanzas of the hymn “Just As I Am” as she washed dishes and looked out the window of her Wisconsin home. I was right at her side rinsing and drying, but as her gaze alternated between the items she scrubbed in the hot sudsy water and the trees outside, she was somewhere else entirely.

Perhaps this is why this hymn remains one of my favorites. It’s also one of the few remnants of my childhood piano lessons that I still play a crude version of on the piano. I’m no longer the small, innocent child standing at my beloved grandmother’s side, but a middle-aged adult who is much more familiar with all the highs and lows, success and failures that this roller-coaster of life brings us. The song now resonates with me for more reasons than nostalgic memory.

Written by Charlotte Elliott in 1835 and composed by William Bradbury, “Just As I Am” gained new popularity when Billy Graham used it consistently as the invitation hymn in his crusades. How appropriate, for it perfectly describes what it means to to see ourselves as sinners in need of grace, desperate for the pardon of a Holy God. We are humbled that God not only grants it, but sacrifices His beloved son to death on a cross so that we might receive it. 

This past summer, I had the words “Tal Como Soy”, the Spanish translation of “Just As I Am” tattooed on my arm to remind me of God’s grace and mercy, but also of His unconditional acceptance of me as His daughter, regardless of my shortcomings, mistakes, and circumstances.

In the past few years, I have known what it is to be rejected by close family and friends, simply for placing some much-needed boundaries in my life. This injured me at the deepest levels and has been enough to make me completely question my identity and perception of reality. Although I acted out of my personal conviction and understanding of God’s leading, as well as the results of everything learned in several years of therapy, these things weren’t enough to protect me from distorted versions of what happened or to help me escape harsh judgement. I attempted to take responsibility for my roles in these situations and to apologize, but those too seem to have disappeared into thin air. I’ve heard that boundaries can be described as the distance between which I can love both myself and another person well. Somehow, those I’ve been in conflict with missed seeing the love and health in the situation.

And so, the tattoo–to remind me daily that however I got here, I’m loved and accepted by my Savior just as I am.

Out of all the lullabies, songs and hymns that I have sung to my daughter at bedtime, “Just As I Am” has been one of her favorite requests over the past year. What a gift from God that I am so compelled to dwell, almost nightly, on the words. One of my favorite verses begins, “Just as I am though tossed about, with many a conflict, many a doubt.” How true, and yet these lead me through the journey of acceptance. I must learn to accept myself and my circumstances, and above all, accept how God sees me and the ways He is working.

Songwriter, singer, and worship pastor Jesús Adrian Romero has a beautiful song called “Tal Como Soy” (“Just As I Am”). In it he sings, “Just as I am, Lord. I have nothing to give but my heart” (My translation). How true. And so Lord, here is my battered, bruised, and misshapen heart. I’m all yours–do with me what you will.

“A Parachute of Love”

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An old song by the King Cole Trio says, “The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and to be loved in return.” How true this is. It is indeed the greatest journey and learning experience of life. We were created out of love, and out of love we are sustained and made new. And yet, because of the broken world we live in and the difficult experiences we share, many of us struggle to accept or give love as we should.

I’ve often been told that the place to begin is to learn to love ourselves–to accept the infinite love God has for us. This LOVE was great enough for Him to send His only son to the cross to die for us, LOVE great enough to forgive us every mistake and flaw, LOVE that knew us and wanted a relationship with us before time began. I John 3:1 says, “See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!”

My therapist recently suggested that a good exercise for me would be to look in the mirror at least once a day and say, “I love you.” to myself. I laughed when she said this because it sounded like such a silly idea to me, but said I would try it. Actually doing it was MUCH harder than I expected–I found myself sobbing in the mirror because I couldn’t say the words. At that point, I realized how much I needed this practice as a means of forgiving myself and all those who have not accepted or loved me as I needed. It’s a means of placing radical trust in God and the worth that He says I have in Him.

A former mentor once asked me how many people were allowed on who I am. With that question, I realized that I was allowing everyone a vote, that my worth could be easily shattered by the opinion of someone I barely knew. Twenty years later, I’m not sure how much I’ve grown. I probably don’t let strangers vote anymore, but I seem to allow almost everyone who knows me, be they friend or foe, some sort of say. Looking back, I can see the way God built me up with friends and mentors and encouragement in my early twenties, then  allowed me to be torn down again and stripped of all that approval in various ways. One day, I will learn that His approval is all that I need–His vote is the only one that truly counts.

Nathaniel Branden said, “Self-acceptance is my refusal to live in an adversarial relationship with myself.” Seeing it put that way, I’m aware of how often my thoughts are self-critical and how that really means that a state of civil war exists within me. In order to find peace, I must come to terms with all the bits that are hard to accept, with all the bits that others haven’t liked, with both my humanity and my divinity. I must, as William Stafford said, “…[weave] a parachute out of everything broken.” As the band Macaco sings in one of my favorite songs “Un Mundo Roto/A Broken World”, I mustn’t let this broken world destroy my smile.

One of my favorite authors, Leeanna Tankersley wrote something that captures my intention:

“A voice is whispering to me as I watch the river…let it happen. Let it happen to you. The losing, the finding, the falling apart, the coming back together. All of it. Sit very still. Keep breathing. And let it happen.”

Sparrowsong

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”His Eye Is on the Sparrow”, written by Civilla Durfee Martin in 1905, has long been my favorite hymn. The anthem chorus captures the most fervent longing of my heart:

“I sing because I’m happy—I sing because I’m free;

For His eye is on the sparrow,

And I know He watches me.”

I have birds all over my home and jewelry to remind me of this truth—God’s compassionate and loving  eye is upon me, upon each and every one of us.

This is an easy truth to proclaim—a much harder one to believe and live. The first verse of the hymn begins by echoing the cries of Psalm 42:11: “Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise Him, my Saviour and my God.”

I have three friends currently battling cancer. One has a toddler and a new baby; one has children in elementary and middle school; one just sent her “baby” off to college. Another dear friend who is disabled just lost her husband and caregiver after fifty-three years of marriage. I am navigating my own challenges. And these are all first world problems, to say nothing of the intense struggles of those in places like Israel, Palestine, and Ukraine.

But the apostle Peter told us not to be surprised at the fiery test we would undergo. Jesus told us, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 13:33b). And in His Sermon on the Mount, Jesus assured us that not even a sparrow falls without His notices. He told us not to worry for our needs, for He splendidly clothes even the lilies of the field.

So often, I feel burdened by the weight of life’s trials. In Isaiah 40: 27-31, the prophet admonished God’s people:

“Why do you say, O Jacob, and complain, O Israel,

‘My way is hidden from the LORD, 

And the justice due me escapes the notice of my God’?

Do you not know? Have you not heard?

The Everlasting God, the LORD, the

Creator of the ends of the earth

Does not become weary or tired.

His understanding is inscrutable.

He gives strength to the weary,

And to him who lacks might He increases power.

Though youths grow weary and tired

And vigorous young men stumble badly,

Yet those who wait for the LORD

Will gain new strength:

They will mount up with wings like eagles,

They will run and not get tired,

They will walk and not become weary.”

Spring arrives slowly in my neck of the woods, but despite the fluctuating and unpredictable April weather, the birds have returned. Their joyous calls, regardless of winds and storms, remind me to join in song.

We Serve…

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Life is always such a glorious, yet difficult mix of things. I have a temperament that struggles with navigating these complexities. As my all time favorite literary and film character, Anne of Green Gables and Avonlea says, “I can’t help but soaring up on the wings of anticipation, only to come crashing down into the depths of despair.”  Whether because of innate personality or learned responses to experiences or both, I tend to ride the roller coaster of life feeling deeply every bump, climb, curve, and fall.

Recently, I’ve soared because I was granted a home in the town that I love. The ability to sign its contract came about through several miraculous events. My friends’ extreme generosity in assisting with the total cost ultimately made it possible for a single mother and teacher to live in an expensive mountain town. The amount of money needed was inconceivable to me, so I feel very blessed and grateful to be able to raise my daughter here and stay in this community that I’ve loved for over a decade and a half.

At the same time that this came about, I’ve been extremely physically sick and have also needed to walk through more of the complex and weighty realities of divorce. Allowing my toddler to spend the night with her dad and away from me feels as if a piece of me is literally missing. Although I know I played a role, I had no control over so many realities that brought us to this place, and there are so many things in the present and the future that I am also unable to control. For myself, that is one thing, but when it impacts my child, it is quite another.

Yet to all my joy and worries and fears and complaints, a very dear friend responded simply, “We serve a God who is in charge of all things.” I must admit that her response felt a little callous. Deep down, I knew she wasn’t being dismissive of my pain. As a devoted mother, compassionate friend, and faithful follower of Christ, I knew she empathized with my struggles. It felt extremely difficult, however, to hear this hard truth shared in response to my heartbreak. I imagine the twelve disciples often felt this way when Jesus shared life-shattering truths with them. Yet how could He offer anything other than Himself? 

I know that many people experience much more difficult things than I have, awful things that defy my comprehension and cause most people to deny that God is at work for their good. I don’t know how to explain those events nor all the circumstances in my life that have worn and torn out my heart. 

But we serve God, He does not serve us, for He is God and we are not. In His supreme, complicated, and glorious sovereignty, it is He who permits, and orders all things. No matter how awful or hard it feels, we must trust that it is God who is shaping us, who is constantly simultaneously at work for our good and for His glory. 

As Bebo Norman wrote and sang in THE HAMMER HOLDS, 

“So dream a little dream for me in hopes that I’ll remain. 

And cry a little cry for me, so I can bear the pain…. 

My dreams are not the issue here, for they, the hammer holds.”

HOPE–A Thorny Bloom

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My yard is blessed by an overabundance of thistles–probably my least-favorite plant. With all the rain and wind we received in the late spring in our region this year, a few thistles multiplied to literally hundreds seemingly overnight. Thorny and prickly and nearly impossible to pull out without the right tools, gloves, and technique, they still seem to defy me and grow back the next week to impede the paths around our home and poke my toddler as she explores the yard. 

For all of these reasons and more, I was sure for the longest time that the thistle is a weed, and not just any old weed, but the meanest and most noxious weed of them all.  After noticing lovely blooms on the taller thistles around the area, however, I looked it up and was surprised to learn that it is a highly valued and beneficial flowering plant whose prickles simply help protect it from being eaten by herbivores. Not only that, but according to Wikipedia, “Biennial thistles are particularly noteworthy for their high wildlife value, producing such things as copious floral resources for pollinators, nourishing seeds for birds like the goldfinch, foliage for butterfly larvae, and down for the lining of birds’ nests.”

It made me wonder if the thorny plants in my life have benefits too, despite the mild suffering that comes from being pricked by their thorns. I’m reminded of Romans 5:3-5: “And not only this, but we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us.”

This passage mystified me when I stumbled across it as a young adult digging deep into Scripture, for I was already naively hopeful and had suffered very little. I thought it strange that the Apostle Paul listed hope as the end result instead of the starting place.

Now, as a more seasoned believer who has had the wind taken out of her sails a few times, I understand. The “hope” I experienced as a young woman was really more like youthful optimism that cracked several times under pressure until it eventually shattered, revealed for the ingenuine thing that it was. It is as the Apostle Peter said in I Peter 1:6-7, “In this you greatly rejoice, even though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been distressed by various trials, so that the proof of your faith, being more precious than gold which perishes though tested by fire, may be found to result in praise, glory, and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ.”

In times of suffering, there are times when it has been difficult for me to face it with character or to persevere in it and continue to put one foot in front of another. But Paul was right–the most difficult thing by far is to hope. Peter tells us to count it all joy that we are able to share in the suffering of Christ. Easier said than done, certainly. But what joy it is that the end result of it all is that blessed and elusive thing–genuine hope. Even the thorny thistle has the most lovely, vibrant, purple bloom. As Emily Dickinson said, “Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul – and sings the tunes without the words – and never stops at all.”

“To Soar on Shifting Sand”

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I’m a big fan of the WILLOW TREE figurines by Susan Lordi. Though they’re produced en masse, the originals are simple wood sculptures of people or angels that capture much of the range of human emotion. My favorite is called “SOAR” and features a woman with her joyful face angled towards the heavens, her arms stretched out wide, birds resting upon them.

I bought this figurine a few years ago in a season when I yearned to experience such freedom and needed the daily visual reminder that it was possible to soar. Over the last year, as my bird-loving toddler grows, “SOAR” has unfortunately taken quite a beating. I feel sad when I look at SOAR now, scratched and bruised, missing a hand and one bird, other birds replaced by glue. It feels like I’m in a similar condition. It’s easy to imagine I’m broken beyond repair, grounded for life, or unworthy of public viewing. And yet, I also note that despite how SOAR has been beaten and bruised, her arms are still raised, her face ever victorious and turned towards the sun.

In her book RISING STRONG, author Brené Brown discusses the concept that our culture is one that can value failure IF it leads to victory, but that we also easily gloss over the feelings of defeat, frustration, angst, loneliness, and struggle that so often accompany failure. We often forget that this is a place many of us stay in for a season or seasons, but that it is possible to rise up strong from it. I’m trying to have faith that I can do so too.

Early on in my adult life, I thought of myself as a person of strong faith. Although it was clear I didn’t have the mustard seed size required to move mountains (Matthew 17:20), it felt possible to eventually grow to that level. All it has taken, however, is a series of many trials over the years to knock the wind out of me. I know now that my faith is either non-existent or infinitesimally small. Like the SOAR and Moses, my arms have grown weak and weary and I have often needed others to hold them up. The friends who have done so are a big part of why I’m still holding on in the times when I can’t discern God’s hand or purpose.

If faith “…is like shifting sand, changed by every wave…” as the band Caedmon’s Call sings, perhaps the waves that continue to crash in can continue to shape it and make it something new, something pure and refined, something that isn’t mine at all. As Hebrews 12 says, God is “…the author and perfector of my faith.” Will He ultimately make it full and complete? The apostle Peter also tells us, “But this happened so that your faith, of greater worth than gold, may be found perfect and complete” (I Peter 1:7).

The final word on this subject for me, however, was written by the prophet Isaiah: 

“Why do you say, O Jacob, and complain, O Israel, “My way is hidden from the Lord, my cause is disregarded by my God”? Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary and young men stumble and fall, but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles, they will run and not grow weary.” Isaiah 40: 27-31

“Land, Sit, Dwell”—

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I have a dear friend who diligently seeks God’s provision of a word from the Word that will guide her direction for each new year. It’s inspiring to hear the word chosen for her and to watch her set her heart and mind towards that new vision, trusting that God is doing a new thing. I’ve followed my friend’s example on occasion but haven’t been as faithful to this practice as she is, this year included. There are, however, three words that God continually brings to my mind and heart in this year and season: LAND, SIT, and DWELL.

LAND. As a new mother and a working mother, I find the pace of life to be much more frantic than ever before. As much as I chase it, balance feels elusive. For that reason, despite all the wonders and blessings of this season, I often find that my thoughts are fixed on the past or ten steps ahead in the future, worrying instead of being focused on the present moment. God often whispers to me, “LAND, beloved. Be where you are, fully, right now.” I sometimes have to continue talking myself into it with phrases such as, “Here you are, Nancy, in your favorite chair, holding your sweet baby girl. This is your favorite place to be. LAND here.”

SIT. I’ve been doing a lot of sitting since my baby was born, something that my back finds difficult due to multiple past injuries. But I want to enjoy these sweet times of sitting with my girl…to be able to be still…to dwell in the presence of the Lord. And so, I must sit with the physical discomfort I experience and hold the many emotions that accompanied the rollercoaster ride of the last year. A friend told me recently that being a mother means realizing strengths you didn’t know you possessed and facing fears you weren’t aware existed. How true that is! I’ve had some absolutely paranoid fears regarding my daughter’s wellbeing, fears that often resurface. I often have to sit with the discomfort of them to truly process and let go of them. Another friend has reminded me that as I spend so much time looking down and caring for my baby this year, I must also remember to look up. I look up and thank God for my many blessings. I praise Him that all things are under His feet and that I have been seated with Him. 

DWELL. Being present, being still, and letting go of fear are all things best done in God’s presence, as I DWELL and make my home with Him. God has made me His dwelling place and I have made Him mine. My heart often cries out an old worship song, “I just want to be where you are, dwelling daily in Your presence. Take me to the place where you are. I just want to be with you.” In every high and every low, He is my safe space where I can abide. In Psalm 84:10, David says that “Better is one day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere; I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of the wicked. For the LORD God is a sun and shield; the LORD bestows favor and honor; no good thing does he withhold from those whose walk is blameless.”


One of my greatest goals for the year is to be here, now. And yet, I also set my sights on the journey to new places, for there are still many things I want to see and many ways I desire to grow. André Gide wrote, “In order to see new lands, one must consent to lose sight of the shore for a very long time.” That feels like an accurate description of the place where I am. I pray for the strength to keep swimming until I reach that distant shore.

“Overwhelmed”—

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If there is one word that describes the past year for me, it is overwhelmed. Like any year, it has held its highs and lows, yet the highs have been higher and the lows lower than most. 

I am loving watching my baby girl grow in her first year of life—there are so many moments where I’m overpowered by love and wonder for the miracle of her. Yet currently, I feel overwhelmed by a multitude of circumstances beyond my control—the loss of a beloved grandfather, struggles with my health, severe illness and surgery for a dear friend, challenges at work and at home, relationship difficulties, and a seemingly futile effort to balance everything well all attempt to prevent me from enjoying this season as I would wish. 

As much as I hate to admit and face learning this truth again, however, I still have a choice in my response to these circumstances. As we all know, the attitude we choose each day ultimately dictates the tone and quality of our experiences.

In that vein, I must also acknowledge the many blessings present in my life, for I am also overwhelmed by the kindness and generosity of friends. Dear loved ones have given of their wisdom, resources, time, presence, love, and empathy in this past year in life-sustaining ways. I’ve learned to rely on them. Their examples, generosity, and goodness have changed me.

I’m also overwhelmed by the goodness, grace, and presence of my loving and mighty God. I don’t often understand what He’s up to, but I do know He’s with me and that He fills me over and over again with His strength. As the band BIG DADDY WEAVE sings in their song OVERWHELMED, “I delight myself in You/Captivated by Your beauty/I’m overwhelmed….I’m overwhelmed by You.”

My prayer for this day and for this season is that I would allow myself to be emptied of all the negative emotions that tend to consume me and that I would use that space to be filled with all that is good. May wonder for our great God and His many blessings wash over all of us today.

The Table—

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“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,” wrote Charles Dickens in A TALE OF TWO CITIES. A long while back, when I attended a debriefing conference after a year of missions in the Dominican Republic, the instructor used this phrase to describe the mission experience. Its profoundness struck and resonated with me as never before. 

Despite this, and despite the fact that I have chosen drifting between light and darkness as the theme of the novel I’ll finish one day, until recently, I somehow missed that it is one of MY life themes. I realized it when a beloved former student gifted me with a children’s book for my baby shower. Inside the cover, she wrote a note stating that the book reminded her of me because of the many conversations we had shared about all the beauty, challenges, joy, and sorrow life simultaneously offers us in our journeys.

I’ve been thinking about all of this again recently as I enjoy the rapture of watching my baby girl grow. I should say that due to sleep deprivation, my battle with chronic pain, and the busyness of trying to find balance after returning to work, I work at being present enough to enjoy every moment.

As I search for balance and joy amidst the challenges, I’m reminded of a phrase from the favored Twenty-third Psalm. David wrote of our Shepherd, “He prepares a table before me in the presence of my enemies.” IN the presence of my enemies, a table is prepared. I can picture that table. It’s a long banquet table set up on a sprawling porch, prepared with the choicest food and drink, decorated with flowers and fine linens, lit with candles. As the enemies of sleeplessness and pain and the frantic pace of American life look on, there I am, seated with my Shepherd at the close of day. My daughter and family and treasured friends surround us. We smile and laugh and enjoy one another as the sun sets. All the while, my enemies lurk and darkness descends.

Some days, as I practice gratitude in stillness, it’s relatively simple and easy to some to the table. Others, as as is typical of my dinnertime reality, I struggle to cease striving and sit still. A friend once described this type of experience to me as picking at the crumbs on the floor when I’ve been invited to a feast. Still other days, it feels as though I must fight my way through bramble and thorned brush just to find where the table IS. But the invitation is always there. 

My Lord says, “Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! … Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and you will delight in the richest of fare” (Isaiah 55:1a;2b). As counterintuitive as it may seem, the beautiful table prepared is often an altar. I reach it best by kneeling, laying down my best efforts, perfectionism, and striving to do it all on my own—laying down selfish ambition and my ideals of what the table should look like, who I’ll be seated with, what will be served, and how long the meal should last. Above all, I must accept that my task is to enjoy THIS meal without worrying about the next, without being able to control that my enemies haven’t left me in peace. I must claim the peace and respite offered anyway. 

In her stunning book, AN ALTAR IN THIS WORLD: A GEOGRAPHY OF FAITH, author Barbara Brown Taylor invites, “Wherever you are, you live in the world, which is just waiting for you to notice the holiness in it. So welcome to your own priesthood, practiced at the altar of your own life. The good news is that you have everything you need to begin.”

Mi Hija…

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There’s a lovely phrase, in Spanish or in any language, “Mi hija…my daughter.” I’ve always loved how Spanish-speakers pronounce it as though it were one word instead of a phrase, like two notes to the same beautiful song. Now it is mine! I am a mama to THE most amazing and beautiful baby girl (not that I’m biased). Almost three months old now, I fell in love the moment I knew she had arrived in the womb. But this is nothing compared to the love I felt meeting her for the first time, or have felt every day since. It’s as though I have always known her, and yet, how wonderful it is to get to know her still more and more each day. 

This all has me thinking a lot about the kind of woman and mom I want to be. Recent months have provided ample opportunity to refine my character and expose its weaknesses, yet it feels like real growth for me to be able to say there are some things I like about myself. As an older first time mom, I’m confident in who I am and what I want out of life. And even if I can’t always achieve or obtain those ultimate goals, I know how to sit with that too. I know to delight in the preciousness of this time despite its challenges, to treasure each and every single moment. Even in the difficult ones, the words of an old country song by Trace Adkins often come to mind, “You’re gonna miss this.”

But I’ve also realized how difficult it can be for me to be present, how easily focused I can become on looming to-do lists, how inclined I am to look at the glass as half-empty, and how rapidly I become irritated. I’ve become more aware of how prone to anxiety and compulsiveness I am and of how much I STILL need to grow. Above all, I see how self-critical and perfectionistic I am. 

I want my daughter to know me as hopeful and humble and kind, a woman at peace and at rest each day. I hope she’ll witness strength intertwined with gentleness, wisdom with wit, patience with perseverance. May she learn from a mama who works hard but who also knows how to quit…one who can play and laugh and dance, especially with her. May my daughter see someone who can forgive herself and who has a growth mindset. As she watches me with others, may she witness integrity, joy, and a generous spirit, someone who listens well and truly gives love and presence.  Of all this I fall far short, a reminder that a profound sense of failure is one of the emotions I did not expect to arrive so quickly in this journey of motherhood.

It’s easy to get ahead of myself…to become so full of ambition for what I want to be that I lose sight of and gratitude for what IS. But that’s just what a dear friend encouraged me towards recently, to be “…a lover of what is.” She encouraged me to take God at His word that I have all that I need…to INHABIT my fullness and completeness. I think I’ll be sitting with all of that for quite some time to come.

When I think of the women I admire most, real women who have blessed me with the opportunity to be a part of their stories, they’re not perfect either. They are humble and patient with themselves as they journey. How grateful I am to have wonderful examples in my friends, most of whom have shown me generosity and kindness beyond measure in this season. And above all, I have an amazing example and a constant companion in God, whose strength and grace I am dependent upon each and every step of the way. 


Once again, although I know what I want, I’m not always sure of how to get it, which brings to mind the words of the great Wendell Berry, my favorite author: “What we must do is this: ‘Love always, pray  continually, in everything, give thanks.’ I’m not always capable of it, but I know those are the right instructions.”