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The edge of life can be marked in black faster than one would suppose. Why not ring all the bells?
Life must be lived. And if we can enjoy some of it, so much the better.
I do not ask a great deal of life. Two walks a day, a library, and the occasional fortifying tea. But life seems to amuse itself at my expense, and I’ve had a rather trying go of it as of late.
It was a moment of condemnatory introspection, and I’ve decided that my life has fallen into an appallingly degenerate state. If only I weren’t enjoying it so very much.
“He said he wished you to be wise, and good, and true to the beatings of your own heart, and hoped that you could be spared the extremes of society, both the very poor and the very rich, so that neither need nor indulgence would spoil the soul he loved more than anything else in the world.”
“It takes a great deal to trust the future after one is acquainted with loss.”
“It feels impossible, for longer than is comforting. And then too tentative to trust.” “It does. But it seems that sword pierced Christ so that we always have a future. Even one different than planned.”
“So one trusts the future,” I answered. “Despite knowing loss will be had again.” “That seems to be what we are called to do.” “Keep looking for sun on the horizon?” “Keep looking for sun on the horizon.” “Faith in the abstract is more comfortable,” I said.
