When “just pray” and “just breathe” do not work, this is my prerequisite.

It seems as if the Cross is the template we’re being urged to work from, not the Garden of Eden that preceded it.

Somehow, some way, I know I’m asked, invited — we all are — to bear our sorrows right along with him.

We think we can condemn other people, become cynics ourselves, and pretend it doesn’t have any harmful effects.

In some extraordinary way, this is where miracle rests in harmony with the ordinary. This is where water is turned into wine. This is where we begin to change.

Sitting beneath the Juniper is sacred ground.