The Prayer Box

Fear builds walls instead of bridges. I want a life of bridges, not walls.

The trouble with drowning in the mess of your own life is that you're not in any shape to save anyone else. You can't be a lighthouse when you're underwater yourself.

Prayers are answered in ways we don’t choose. The river of grace bubbles up in unexpected places.

Help them to show the world that our greatness is not in things we do for ourselves, but in things we do for others.

What does a lighthouse do? I ask myself. It never moves. It cannot hike up its rocky skirt and dash into the ocean to rescue the foundering ship. It cannot calm the waters or clear the shoals. It can only cast light into the darkness. It can only point the way. Yet, through one lighthouse, you guide many ships. Show this old lighthouse the way.

...The most important thing, I think. You can't run from your past. You have to take it for what it is and realize that it's part of you.

Some of the hardest things you go through will teach you the most.

Maybe there came a point in life where you had to quit categorizing whole groups of people by a few bad experiences.

...you're going to have to face this. You can't let other people decide your life for you...Other people's judgement doesn't have any power unless you offer yourself up for trial, so don't.

Dawn comes after the darkness, and with it the promise that what has been torn by the sea is not lost. All of life is breaking and mending, clipping and stitching, gathering tatters and sewing seams. All of life is quilted from the scraps of what once was and is no more- the places we have been, the memories we have made, the people we have known, that which has been long loved but has grown threadbare over time and can be worn no longer. We keep only pieces. All colors, all shapes, all sizes. "All waiting to be stitched into the pattern only you can see. "In the quiet after the storm, I hear you whisper, 'Daughter, do not linger where you are. Take up your needle and your thread, and go see to the mending...

Through one lighthouse, you guide many ships. Iola’s words whispered in my mind. Was she thinking of the

We do not choose the vessel we’re given, Iola Anne, but we choose what we pour out and what we keep inside,” she say.

Like the beach glass, the wood was more beautiful because of its journey, because of the things it had been through. Inside the perfect shells is dim, It's through the cracks, the light comes in.

My life was like that box. The best things in all the imperfections.

Well, you know how a river moves a mountain.” The words surprised me at first, but I knew where they were coming from. “Stone by stone,” she finished.

The little box that was given to me was by no means unique. I'd heard of prayer boxes, and I knew what they were for. ...Any scrap of paper will do, anywhere, anytime of the day or night. The important part, in a world of fractured thoughts, hurried moments, and scattershot prayers, is to take the time to think through, to write down, to clarify in your own mind the things you're asking for, the things you're grateful for, the things your're troubled about, the hopes you've been nurturing. And then? Put them in the box and... Let. Them. Go. That's what trust is. It's letting go of the worry. It's the way of peace and also the way of God. such a hard road to travel for people like me, who are worriers. When I'm writing a story, I control the whole universe. In life...not so much. Actually, not at all. Things happen that I hadn't anticipated and wouldn't choose and can't change. That's the tough part.

Other people’s judgment doesn’t have any power unless you offer yourself up for trial, so don’t.

All of life is quilted from the scraps of what once was and is no more- the places we have been, the memories we have made, the people we have known, that which has been long loved but has grown threadbare over time and can be worn no longer. We keep only pieces. All colors, all shapes, all sizes. "All waiting to be stitched into the pattern only you can see.

Normal doesn't happen overnight when the world around and between you has always been off-balance.

I desire to live my life this way,... Not caged by the walls of fear, but in anticipation of the bridges to magnificence. Help me find the way.

Sisters are created not by blood but by love.

I wanted to write it on paper and fold it up in a box to remind myself, the next time I couldn’t see anything but mountains ahead, that where there’s a mountain, there’s always a river flowing nearby. Ultimately the river is the more powerful of the two.

The trouble with drowning in the mess of your own life is that you’re not in any shape to save anyone else. You can’t be a lighthouse when you’re underwater yourself.

I heard my grandfathers voice. What do they think-- the storms will never come? You build a house on the sand, the sand shifts eventually... Remember that.

Other people’s judgment doesn’t have any power unless you offer yourself up for trial, so don’t.” Zoey

Help them to show the world that our greatness is not in things we do for ourselves, but in things we do for others. In power that channels itself into kindness, in a hand outstretched in love. Be with

Kids are supposed to grow up and cut the apron strings. I just never dreamed those sharp scissors would leave so many wounds.

You are a God of winds and tides. Of journeys and storms and navigation by stars and faith.

the choral group. I have even begun to master the organ, not so different from Monsieur’s piano. I strained to hear the whisper, as Sister Agnes went on with her thought. “The audiences prefer children who are young, too young to be out working for themselves. It pleases them to feel as though they’re donating to