I am the light house keeper, standing guard for others over a windswept and rocky point.
The light, the rock, the home attached, inside the rooms, the door, the seat, the small book I read in the mornings, the cushion on which I sit. Inward and inward from frothy sea to simple heart.
At night, tend the light. By day, prepare the way. In the still dark morning, I look to my heart.
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If you could see me from a high point, between efforts, would you bid me do any different? This time -- is it mine or yours, Lord?
– from the mountain
Consider:
Can I see my life and all its activity as devotion?
Reading:
“We are not called to be successful, but to be faithful.” — Mother Teresa
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“At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us.” — Albert Schweitzer
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“Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid.” — Matthew 5:14 (KJV)
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