Carol Ann Morrow

When the church’s sanctuary is empty, the sanctuary lamp still burns. It’s good to know that Jesus remains in our holy place even when the pews are vacant.

Jesus was alone in the desert for 40 days. Unless I’m aware of the world through media or the nearby presence of another, being alone can be too difficult—even impossible—for me to sustain.

I lift up my mail to you, my God. I thank you that my needs are simple. I thank you for helping me resist the urge to order from each colorful catalog. Lead me to make good choices.

Many of those I love are far away. Our paths have led us to live apart—across borders, even oceans. When I sense this absence, my heart aches.

Sometimes stones surface in the landscape—on the surface, or at the searching point of my spade. The rock I carry in my pocket today will remind me to be centered on the Rock of My Salvation.

A stray reminder can lead us to relive a long-ago injury—one received, one given. It’s humbling to recall that we acted or reacted in anger, with ugliness, that we even may hold a grudging memory today.

Grass is growing between the sections of the sidewalk. It is not growing in the bare patches of the lawn. Why doesn’t the grass know its proper place? Today, I will welcome growing things—unexpected events, new people—even when they are uninvited.