I wonder how many of us would feel a deeper contentment and satisfaction of sorts if we understood that the spiritual practice is the life. Living it. Rising above it. And then, digging back in.
Prayer often felt like a loose end hanging in the wind. An end I was waiting for God, Cosmos, Universe, and my Creator to grab onto. But often, it didn't seem like she did.
She keeps going, because she can.
When the darkest night still holds light.
Hope takes consistency. It takes work. It takes... a vision.
