The Birds are singing, and the grass is green blue sky overhead with wispy clouds. I could have been a weatherman. The protocol gives purpose. Daily mundane tasks wrap up our sense of place and reason for being. Mundane is good when it adds to our route back to Jerusalem. Protest is fine at times as is devil-may-care attitude…but not always.

Days are filled with groceries exercise bills and repairs, with the daily time for reflection of the infinite. Habit settles emotions. Routine rejuvenates scattered thoughts. Peace emanates from a place settled secured and static.

I had a minister many years ago who admonished that when you have reached the end of your rope…tie a knot in it and hold on. A true directive for troubled times.

Throughout my 32-year 2-month and 3-week career, I noticed a few folks who had difficulty with the regularness of work. There were late-night celebrations and off-ramps to other pursuits that led nowhere. So many fruitless opportunities there was not the time to afford to make a living. I had a colleague ask me my secret for working so many years at the University and I replied, ‘One day at a time.’

Life hands us reversals. This happens throughout life. The loss of a loved one the loss of a job and stress can short-circuit our hard drive. What seemed so simple can be complex. Many of us suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. We need friends who will help us hold on to the rope of life.

The Paralympic Games are coming. Inspiring the wonderful humans who have not let go of the rope. No legs run on new ones. Such is life. We seek the extraordinary majesty of the world to come. Heaven is our throne and Earth is our footstool. Suddenly we awake from our deep slumber to see we are surrounded by Heaven…