Building on today

 

Building on Today

Dear Reader,

Norman Vincent Peale once wrote:

“People become really quite remarkable when they start thinking that they can do things. When they believe in themselves they have the first secret of success.”

There is something important in those words. Before we accomplish something, there is often a quiet moment when we must first believe that accomplishing it is possible.

But perhaps success does something else for us.

Yesterday’s successes become evidence for today.

They remind us that we have faced uncertainty before, learned things we did not know, endured things we thought difficult, and discovered abilities we did not realize we possessed.

And so I find myself thinking:

May our successes be the foundation for today, and may the successes of today make way for our tomorrows.

This does not mean that every day must contain some great achievement. Sometimes success is simply getting up again. Sometimes it is making the telephone call we have avoided, forgiving someone, asking for help, learning something new, or taking one more faithful step when we cannot yet see where the road leads.

Perhaps confidence is built that way—not by convincing ourselves that we can do everything, but by remembering that we have already been carried through much.

Faith adds something even greater.

I need not believe only in myself. I can believe that God has given me gifts still being discovered, strength still being developed, and purposes still unfolding.

Yesterday has given me something upon which to stand.

Today gives me something to build.

And tomorrow?

Tomorrow may reveal what God has been preparing me for all along.

Good morning. 😊

🙏🧘‍♂️💕🤗☮️

The Road Before Us

 Good Morning Dear Reader,

There are seasons in life when the road before us is clear, and there are others when it disappears beyond the hill, leaving us to travel by faith rather than sight. We make our plans with care, imagining that tomorrow will follow the course we have marked for it; yet life, like a river, has its own bends and hidden passages.

It is often only afterward that we understand why the road turned as it did.

What seemed at first a disappointment may become a blessing, and what we feared as a loss may open the door to some greater good. There is wisdom, therefore, in holding our plans with an open hand. We may prepare for the journey, but we cannot command every mile of it.

There is also a curious law of the heart: that what we give away is often what we possess most fully.

Knowledge grows when it is shared. Kindness deepens when it is practiced. Love, unlike earthly treasure, is not diminished by giving, but enlarged. The man who thinks only of his own advantage may gather much and yet remain poor; while another, giving freely of his time, his patience, and his affection, may possess a richness no account book can measure.

We are likewise stronger than we commonly suppose.

Many of the walls that seem to stand before us are built not of stone, but of fear. We look upon some distant task and say, “I cannot,” when perhaps the truer words would be, “I have not yet tried.”

Courage does not always announce itself with trumpet and banner. Often it is simply the quiet decision to take another step.

The traveler climbs the mountain not by one mighty stride, but by placing one foot faithfully before the other. He may stumble. He may stop to rest. The clouds may gather around him. Yet if he continues, the path rises beneath his feet, and heights once thought impossible gradually come within his reach.

So it is with the duties of life.

The task neglected today does not vanish with the setting sun. It waits for us upon the morrow, often joined by others. There is peace in doing the work that lies nearest at hand, and there is dignity in meeting responsibility while the hour is ours.

We need not accomplish everything at once. It is enough to do faithfully what belongs to this day.

For life is made not merely of great achievements, but of small acts performed with constancy: a promise kept, a kindness offered, a duty completed, a word of encouragement given when another heart is weary.

Nor can the outward life alone sustain us.

A house may be filled with possessions and yet lack warmth. A life may be crowded with activity and still know an inward emptiness. The spirit, like the hearth fire, must be tended.

It needs purpose.

It needs companionship.

It needs faith.

It needs those quiet hours in which we remember that life is more than what we acquire, more than what others think of us, and more than the brief applause of success.

There is within every person some work that seems to awaken the heart. When we discover it, we ought not to fear the labor it requires.

No worthy undertaking is free of difficulty.

The ship does not curse the wind because it must adjust its sails. The tree does not cease growing because winter has come. Each accepts the season before it and continues according to its nature.

So should we.

Failure need not be the grave of effort. It may instead become its teacher. The broken plan may show us a better way. The closed door may cause us to notice another entrance. What matters is not that we have never fallen, but that we have refused to remain upon the ground.

And when the years have passed, perhaps we shall discover that the great question was never how much we gained, how high we rose, or how widely our names were known.

The better questions may be simpler.

Did we remain true when truth was difficult?

Did we continue when the road became steep?

Did we give something of ourselves to those who traveled beside us?

Did we leave another person stronger, kinder, or more hopeful because our paths happened to meet?

These are the measures by which a life quietly gathers meaning.

We need not know the whole journey before beginning it. The morning sun does not illuminate every road to its end. It gives us light enough for the place where we now stand.

And perhaps that is all we are meant to have.

For life is not lived tomorrow, nor upon some distant shore. It is lived here, in this present hour, where there is still some duty to perform, some kindness to give, some beauty to notice, and some step yet waiting to be taken.

So let us go forward without demanding that every mystery be explained beforehand.

Let us carry what light we have.

Let us help one another along the road.

And when evening comes, may we be able to look back upon the day's journey and say that, however imperfectly, we walked it with courage, with faith, and with a willing heart.

When the Next Thing Comes

 

Dear Reader,

Today I ask that we reflect on a remark by Dag Hammarskjöld:

“What next? Why ask? Next will come a demand about which you already know all you need to know: that its sole measure is your own strength.”

I find in this remark something both sobering and comforting.

First, there is the question, “What next?” In my experience over the years, I have worked my way through — or out of — many life events: graduating from high school, the death of my mother, a change in my college and career direction, marriage and divorce, getting sober, meeting a life partner, suffering the death of that partner, and finding faith in God and Jesus Christ — a faith that guides me today. Many of these experiences ended with the same question: What next?

The truth is that with each event, I had no answer. The reader here might also ask, “Why ask?”

This is precisely where the last part of Hammarskjöld’s message comes into play:

“Next will come a demand about which you already know all you need to know: that its sole measure is your own strength.”

With many of these experiences came a strong feeling of vulnerability. I felt powerless and fearful of the unknown. I had questions, and I believed they needed answering immediately.

What next after my schooling and the beginning of a career?

What next for my family?

What next in my life as a single parent?

What next in my life without a partner or companion?

My questions were deeply human. I wanted to know what was coming before the next experience arrived. I wanted warning, preparation, and reassurance that I would be equal to whatever lay ahead.

Here Hammarskjöld offers an unexpected response — one that can stop me in my tracks: Why ask?

Not because the future does not matter.

Not because life is easy.

Not because there are no real demands coming.

It is because when the next demand comes, it will bring with it its own measure. The issue will not be whether I have solved tomorrow in advance, but whether I am willing to meet what is asked of me when it arrives.

That, dear reader, is a powerful and spiritual response.

Life rarely reveals itself to us all at once. God does not often hand us the whole road in advance. More often, He gives enough light for the next step, enough grace for the next burden, and enough strength for the next demand.

I do not need all of tomorrow’s strength today.

I only need the willingness to live faithfully in this moment.

My personal thought is this: Life is lived one day at a time. Embrace today, have faith in a loving God, and by grace do the next right thing.

Accept that the next demand may bring pain.

Accept that the next experience may arrive quietly or even unseen.

Accept that the next stage of life may require patience and endurance.

More than anything else, accept that you are here in this world to love and help another soul.

Perhaps that is the deepest wisdom here: the next thing that comes is not only a test of strength, but also an invitation to discover that strength.

I have found that many of the things I feared most never came in the way I imagined. And when difficulties did come, I often discovered that God had already placed within me, or around me, enough grace to endure them.

In my life, I have found that the final question becomes: Will I trust God when the next thing comes?

Personally, I believe I do not walk into the future alone. Whatever demand may come, God is already there. His mercy arrives before my fear has finished speaking. His strength is often made known at the very moment mine seems weakest.

Scripture gives me two assurances I return to:

“For with God nothing shall be impossible.” — Luke 1:37

“My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.” — 2 Corinthians 12:9

Today, I do not need to wrestle the whole future to the ground.

I can pray.

I can trust.

I can remain willing.

I can meet this day as it is given.

So, when the next demand comes, perhaps I will know what I need to know after all.

🙏🧘‍♂️💕🤗☮️

Lost Heroes, Forget them not nor their families

  

 

We also pause to honor our nation’s first responders—those who run toward danger when others are trying to escape it.

We remember their courage, their sacrifice, and their willingness to serve strangers as neighbors.

May we never forget those who gave their lives, and may we continue to support those who serve us still.

🙏🇺🇸❤️‍🩹

O My Soul, Do Not Slumber

Dear Reader,

Today, I was drawn to a passage in Dante Alighieri’s Inferno, Canto I.

“Midway upon the journey of our life
I found myself within a forest dark,
For the straightforward pathway had been lost.”

“So full was I of slumber at the moment
In which I had abandoned the true way.”

Looking back on my life, I can now recognize something of what Dante describes: I had become spiritually asleep. From my mid-twenties to my early forties, I was distracted from spiritual development by career goals, family, good times, and what seemed like endless partying. Dante does not describe himself as deliberately choosing evil. He describes himself as having fallen asleep. I can relate to that feeling and to the question: “How did I get here?”

It was only in a moment of clarity that, like Dante, I awakened at the edge of darkness, far from the person I had hoped to be. I had lost my path as a spiritual person. In Dante’s example, he saw light shining on the top of a hill. The rest of his story is one of struggle to climb toward that light and, ultimately, a journey through Hell.

In my case, the path has been one of recovery, where I have been humbled, become more aware of character traits both good and bad, and found a way to make amends to family, friends, and others I harmed before recovery. This path is ongoing. Sometimes progress seems visible; at other times it is slower and more difficult to recognize. I cannot say that I wish the journey were over, because each day brings challenges that allow me to grow and move closer to a Higher Power.

In my case, I have become reacquainted with the God of my understanding and have come to know His Son, Jesus Christ.

My daily spiritual admonition is:

“O my soul, do not slumber or seek worldly distractions. Keep to the true way in Christ, who declares, ‘I am the way, the truth, and the life.’” — John 14:6

This is my prayerful reminder to remain awake and centered in Christ.

As I close, I wonder what I have truly gained from this reflection. Perhaps it is the recognition that there was a past, that I am now established on a renewed spiritual journey, and that, if I choose to be guided and assisted by Divine Grace, I need not drift or lose sight of my true goal of returning to God’s joyful presence.

A word of caution: Dante does not first say, “I chose the wrong road.” He realizes that while spiritually inattentive, he somehow wandered from the true one.

Recognizing that we are lost is not the end of the journey. It may be the beginning of being guided home.

And perhaps, in being guided home, we begin to understand more deeply the infinite love of God, who does not abandon His children simply because they have wandered.

🙏 🧘‍♂️ 💕 🤗 ☮️

Aging, Usefulness, Dignity, Purpose, and God's Work

Dear reader.

Today marks the anniversary of Queen Elizabeth I’s birth. In her honor, I looked at several sayings attributed to her.

• "Monarchs ought to put to death the authors and instigators of war, as their sworn enemies and as dangers to their states." 

•  "I do not choose that my grave should be dug while I am still alive."

The language in the first quotation is severe, especially the phrase “put to death.”

Given Elizabeth I’s era and the growing threats England faced from Catholic princes and kings, it is plausible that these were her words. However, the quotation appears only in a historical collection that attributes it to Elizabeth in conversation with the French ambassador Fénelon and cites Frederick Chamberlin’s The Sayings of Queen Elizabeth (1923).

 

I chose this quotation not to make a political comment about today’s kings, princes, or leaders, but to invite reflection on a nation’s policy toward war and the solemn responsibility leaders bear for the human suffering their counsel may cause.

I believe Elizabeth understood that an unnecessary war would reflect upon the monarch who chose it, making that ruler an enemy of the very people they claimed to protect. That thought is not lost on me today.

Turning to the second quotation: “I do not choose that my grave should be dug while I am still alive.”

Elizabeth likely spoke these words in 1566 while facing Parliament’s pressure over the question of succession.

Today, I hear the words differently. Many seniors, myself included, are told to step back and simply enjoy the fruits of our labor. Even Ecclesiastes reminds us that mortal life is brief and ends in dust.

That may be fitting for some, but in my experience, I choose not to withdraw from active life because of age. Seniors continue to make meaningful contributions in science, literature, art, service, and care for those in need. Age need not impose a fixed limit, especially now that study tools, enrichment opportunities, and AI are opening new paths for learning and purpose. 

In paraphrase, I hear Elizabeth saying, “Do not decide that my useful life is finished while I am still living it.”

For those of faith, I believe God’s work is never limited by age, usefulness, or physical limitations. Every person has a God-given right to live fully and with dignity. As long as God gives us breath, He may still have something for us to become, something for us to learn, and someone for us to serve.

🙏🧘‍♂️💕🤗☮️