Sort of reflecting of readings for church this Sunday, but more of me rambling about things.
Today marks the three hundred and thirtieth birthday of the Frenchman François-Marie Arouet, better known by his nom de plume, Voltaire (1694-1778).
Born into a bourgeois family during the reign of Louis XIV, the “Sun King” (r. 1643-1715), Voltaire suffered tragedy at a young age when his mother died. Never close with his father or brother, Voltaire exhibited a rebellious attitude toward authority from his youth. His brilliant mind was fostered in the care of the Society of Jesus, who introduced him to the joys of literature and theater. Despite his later criticisms against the Church, Voltaire, throughout his life, fondly recalled his dedicated Jesuit teachers.
Although he spent time as a civil servant in the French embassy to the Hague, Voltaire’s main love was writing—an endeavor where he excelled in various genres, including poetry, which led to his appointment as the royal court poet for King Louis XV. Widely recognized as one of the greatest French writers, and even hyperbolically referred to by ...
Padre - Tom Miller invites you to a Coffee Talk, Speakeasies, Schmoozes, Tea Times, Afterhours and other gatherings.
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2026 Coffee Talk with the ADD Irregulars
Thursday, January 1, 2026
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Good morning, Digital Neighbors! Blessed and Happy Sunday to all! Sundays are for gratitude, and for me that means giving thanks to the Giver of all Good Gifts. I strive to receive each day as a gift from God and believe that His subtle and humble movements will be known to me if I am patient, listening, and receptive. If I am willing to see, I will be surprised. If I am willing to listen beyond the noise, I may hear the whisper at the cave that tells me He is near. I hope to maintain Walt’s attitude, as espoused in this poem, and see each day—and all of life—as miraculous and as a sign of the Giver. Have a great day, dear neighbors!
Miracles
Walt Whitman 1819 – 1892
Why, who makes much of a miracle?
As to me I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love, or sleep ...
