I think I want to be surprised. When I come face to face with God and my life, I want to have served Him with some margin for mystery, not always knowing, not always overtly mentoring.
I hope the poem that is my life will not have always hidden the abrasions of minor keys. I hope there will have been times of uncertainty, when I didn’t just know but I obeyed anyway, not acutely
aware in the moment that an act of kindness or a teachable moment
was obedience. God’s Word hidden in my heart–may that always be
a work of art in progress for which I more than anyone need Grace.
The challenge for the contemplative is the stumbling block of knowledge. May I never know enough. May I always need wings.
My Writing Life 