As the deer longs for streams of water,
so my soul longs for you, O God.
Continuing with Crosby, Celibacy, and Miller, Dorothy Day, as before. I hope to move on to new reads next week.
I pay little mind to my morning grumpiness. It only gets in the way of holy longing. Be grumpy all you want, but remember to keep longing. Stay in the longing long enough, and all the passing feelings will be transcended by more awesome sensations.
Today, finishing up a week of assistance in the vegetable garden. Been watering the plots since last Sunday. This morning, spending a couple of hours doing various jobs with the novice brother who tends the garden. This afternoon, other house chores, but probably not the newsletter, as we have three weeks until the deadline for submissions and four until we publish (Dec. 1).
Let the grumping give way to groaning for what is inexpressible. Amen.
Accustomed to the mild chill, accustomed to the gentle warmth. I can live with these, but I wonder how well suited I am for the extremes I have, for a time, left behind.