A lady asked me for money today.  I looked her in the face and said, “I don’t give money to people.”  She said, “Why do people always think I’m bad because I don’t have money?  If you have money, you should give it!” and walked away.

My first thought was, I don’t think you’re bad, nor did I say that.  My second thought was, you don’t know the service I do perform.  My third thought was, she’s not talking to me.  She’s talking to her own ego.  And I walked away.

All of our problems are gifts set underneath the tree.  They each have our name on them and are meant for each of us alone.

In our effort to have another help us with our problems, one can lovingly point to the gift, invite us into a warm room in which to open our gift, and share the gift with us, but it is for each of us alone to open.

The birds greeted me as I walked out into the sunshine early Sunday morning.  The full moon had not yet set and it hung right in front of me while I drove down the road.  The sky was clear and blue except for some clouds on the horizon, tinted pink and orange from the sun coming up behind me.

For a Brother or Sister of Sorrow, coming to this planet is like seeing baby seals and sea birds drowning in an oil slick.  They are given a brush and soap and asked if they want to help.  What a miserable task!  But how can anyone with compassion say no.

As I walked across the gas station parking lot, my mind did not catch on to the "Hey" and smacking lips of the guy leaning out of his pick-up until I had already thrown him a smiling "Hey" and a wave back.  Realizing too late his crudeness, I entered the gas station thinking, "ah well, he deserves the light of the Creator also."  

Behind the counter stood a shrunken girl, eyes cast down.  How many of those men outside had she already had to encounter this Sunday morning?  As I made my purchase I smiled into her eyes and said "you have a wonderful morning."  She looked back into my eyes and brightened.  The light was passed from Creator to Creator.

If I had closed myself down to the Light when instinctually threatened, I could not have kept the Light moving, so that it could pass into the shadows where it was needed.  Because it flowed unhindered, everyone was blessed that Sunday morning.

Our world contains places where those around us tell us we should not be because they are not socially acceptable.  These are the places of our fringe culture.  They are the activities of those deviant to the mainstream. 

Wherever it is that I am told is not appropriate to go, I will be there with my scissors to cut through our cultural police tape.  Wherever the proverbial lepers are, I will eat with them.  Wherever these dark corners of our world exist, I will be there exploring with my flashlight. 

Today I encountered a bigoted remark from a lady in my building.  I knew there was something Loving to say, but I couldn't figure out what.  So, I just stared at her for a moment.  Someday I hope to look at her with the Christ-Consciousness shining out through my eyes instead of whatever a deer has shining out through his eyes.

We are all boxers who have agreed to get into the ring of incarnation to spar with fellow boxers.  With the first punch to the head at birth we forget why we're here and who these people are that keep punching us!

The rain fell all day from the moment I awoke having tended to a sick child all night up until the writing of this log entry.  I have walked in that rain, I have washed vomit out of several shirts, towels, and pajamas, and still provided dinner for my husband who came home later than usual.

He asked me how I was feeling and all I could say was that I was happy and at peace.  Which was reflected earlier in the day by my text to him expressing my joy and thanks of the gift he had given to me by way of our daughter.

How is it I had these feelings in contrast to the day's events?  The Love I was filled with today can not be captured or conjured.  It is as much a gift as this beautiful day was.

The transfer of nutrients from mother to child is not solely physical.  It is evident in the moments my child contently settles into my lap, her eyes connecting with my eyes and her little hands caressing my breast, one on each side.  In that moment I am feeding to her my life, my vital energy, not just the milk from my breast.