To my world family

I need to talk with you and share what's giving me some peace after the anguish that has been shadowing these past weeks. I need to share what's growing inside me—the piecing together of my hope. Without doubt I see a purpose for living and for making a difference in this world. I've found what it is, and I'm growing in its strength. I call it God. But it doesn't matter what each of us calls it. What matters is that I'm learning what it means to listen, to really listen, to find my God in the very deepest part of my being. I'm starting to hear this "still small voice"—and it's growing stronger. And my questions are getting answered.

We're on this planet together because there is work to do. It doesn't matter that we may never meet. What matters is that the power within us is like a tiny but indomitable light, telling us how to live with each other with respect and affection.

The more I know about the good that is God—beyond this material life we're living—the more I accept the good that is me. When I know what is me, I know what is my world. I don't accept that my thinking has little effect on the most aching parts of the world. I do accept that every caring, unselfish thought that I think and live matters. It's like a tiny pebble tossed into a vast pond—with the water rippling out wider and wider.

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Persistent love melts resentment
April 14, 2003

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