I will spend the rest of my life figuring out how to do these things, doing them, not doing them, and trying again to do them well.
Whether I worship with others in a sanctuary, a cathedral, a park, on ZOOM; in solitude; or while walking through a forest, along a beach, or tending a garden—if I’m not intentional about doing these things, I’m missing the point.
Whether I pray according to a liturgy, in silent contemplation, conversationally, or one word at a time (“help”, “thanks”, or “wow”, as Anne Lamott writes about in her book of the same name), if I’m not mindful of walking these things out in everyday life then life then truth has escaped me.
When—not if—I point my finger more often than I look in the mirror, I lose sight of what’s most important.
When my comfort seems more important than connection . . .
When I give more of myself to the cause of the day than to the person standing next to me . . .
When knowledge seems more important than wisdom . . .
I need to change course and return to the better work of figuring out how to love well.
And do it.