
“What does ‘heart of my heart’ mean?” asked a member participating in our prayer today with God’s Word (lectio divina). She was asking a rhetorical question, finding it difficult to comprehend how one could go even deeper within our heart, yet she was hungry to know the answer. We contemplated the depth of its meaning, realizing that the only way to go deeper in relationship is to spend time with them. It’s fairly easy to carve out time to be with our friends, but what about someone who is not physically or obviously present, like God? Prioritizing this kind of relationship can be challenging. That’s why it’s important to have faith and to trust that by living with our questions, answers will eventually be revealed.
I want to ask you, as clearly as I can, to bear with patience all that is unresolved in your heart, and try to love the questions themselves. . . . For everything must be lived. Live the questions now, perhaps then, someday, you will gradually, without noticing, live into the answer. ~Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926)

I am a hole in a flute that the Christ’s breath moves through — Listen to this music. ~Hafiz
I am very excited for my sister. After twenty five years working for the same organization, she has taken a leap to work for herself. This is not easy to do, especially when leaving a comfortable, known situation. I’ve noticed a spark in her that just couldn’t ignite without her stepping out like she’s doing now. Her heart has always been full of compassion, especially for God’s creatures. Dogs in need always seem to find her, and over the years she brought many of them into our family’s home. Now she gets to live this for herself and for others as she counsels those who are grieving over the loss of their beloved pets.
Everything in the realm of nature and human existence is a sign—a manifestation of God’s divine names and attributes. . . . As it is said in the Qur’an, “Wherever you turn, there is the Face of God” (2:115).
A friend from western Pennsylvania made pumpkin gobs over the weekend and shared some with me. He grew up with fond memories of eating his mother’s homemade gobs. Countless people of all ages have enjoyed them for decades, but I had never heard of these small cake sandwiches with sweet, creamy filling. Most gobs are chocolate flavored and reminiscent of whoopie pies; some are called BFOs (big fat Oreos). There is historical debate over their true origin, and Pennsylvania, Maine, Massachusetts, Virginia and New Hampshire all claim to be the birthplace of this bakery treat. The Amish recipe is said to have been handed down through generations and may have been brought to America by German immigrants, but nothing has been officially documented. With so much commotion about their origin, they must be good! Tastes from my childhood bring back pleasant memories. I have old recipe boxes from my relatives which include some of my favorites. Sharing these recipes with my family creates a way of handing them down through the generations, becoming tasteful memories for gobs of years.
Tonight at Vicia, an amazing restaurant celebrating a family birthday, I tried the Pawpaw fruit for the first time. It was offered after dinner as an ice cream; the fruit harvested from Southern Missouri. I learned more about this tree since all I knew about it was from a song I heard in childhood with the line, “Way down yonder in the pawpaw patch.” I never knew it was an actual tree. Or maybe as a child I never really thought about it.
I don’t remember ordering it, but every month a copy of “Food & Wine” shows up in our mailbox. Did I purchase a lifelong subscription through a school fundraiser so many years ago I’ve forgotten? Maybe in a weak moment the extremely low subscription price spoke to me. Or I thought I’d actually read it, knowing I could use more knowledge about wine.