Merry Influenza.

I took a longer-than-expected holiday hiatus due to two consecutive stomach bugs. The right side of my neck remains mildly swollen, like a halfhearted water balloon. Even though the reading and writing of text still render my head throbby, I wanted to share from a book I received from my husband for Christmas. Yes, I love you this dearly. It’s true.

Perhaps somewhere in the subterranean chambers of your life you have heard the call to deeper, fuller living. You have become weary of frothy experiences and shallow teaching. Every now and then you have caught glimpses, hints of something more than you have known. Inwardly you long to launch out into the deep.*

I think this is the reason I started writing. There’s this inner longing that keeps me awake at night, a search for greater depths. I’m tired of going to the mall. I’m tired of bagging up endless belongings that no longer matter to me. I’m tired of seeking material satisfaction. It makes me weary. It is a path of suffering, the suffering of others and my own, and my feet yearn for a different one; the path of justice, the path of mercy.

*Richard J. Foster, Celebration of Discipline. New York: HarperCollins, 1978.