Dec. 13

It's a tragic day in Windsor Terrace, where a man stabbed his parents before throwing himself in front of a G train (story). Here's a candle for all the souls involved. And for the Maddoff son who hung himself in the room next to where his 2-year old son slept, and the Swedish terrorist who blew himself up and those he took out. If there is a strand of value in this grisly trifecta I'm wondering what it is. My mind wanders back to Fatima with the cord around her waist, begging that we restrain a little, or sacrifice a little of our joy and indulgences in observance of the struggles of so many, those whom Black Elk described as walking with the wind in their faces. It seems depraved to even entertain hope at these times, but neverthless I read the words of Juliana of Norwich yesterday when I opened her writings at random and took heart. In her despair over the despair of the souls of men, she lamented, but God said to her "What is impossible to you is not impossible to me. I shall save my word in all things, and make all things well." Just because how that could happen is beyond anyone's imagination doesn't mean it can't happen.