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Good morning, digital neighbors! Blessed Resurrection Day to all you fellow disciples of the Risen One, and happy Sunday to all the rest of you fine souls who may stumble across these ramblings. All days should begin with gratitude, but Sundays are days that marinate in gratitude, that are awash with the awareness of the giftedness of life. While I may have my small bit-role to play in this drama of creation, redemption, and sanctification, I know the story is not really about me. It is about the One who included me without needing me, who invited me without benefiting from me—the One who has selflessly shared the gift of life and meaning with me.

I am more than delighted that the story is not about me, but involves me, calls to me, and seeks to transform me. Not only myself, but all these other odd ducks that life and Providence have placed on my path. My childhood was one of often wondering what was hidden and yet to be found. One of my earliest fascinations was all the life that lay hidden under rocks and logs. I was forever turning them over to have a peek. God bless all those poor insects whose lives I wrecked in childhood curiosity. To this day I cannot help but look at a flat rock, a board, or a log and wonder what is under it if I gave it a move. (On a side note: when you get stung or bitten, it gives your curiosity a bit more caution.) These days I wreck far fewer homes of bugs, snakes, and mice, but I still wonder at the hidden world.

Telescopes and microscopes came into my life sometime between second and fourth grade and opened another new chapter of discovery and revelation. There was existence, being what it has always been, now made visible to my eyes. Both of those new ways of looking expanded reality in such immense ways that it was both humbly received by the mind of a child and far surpassed it. And yet as a child, I was more receptive, fresher, and less cluttered in my pure appreciation and reception of the WOW of it all. No terms, no definitions, and no analysis—just reception, appreciation, and wonder.

The fallacy of understanding that comes as we age is that we can control something if we understand it. It is a partial truth at best. I will venture to say we can utilize something if we understand it, but our control is always partial at best. Control is such a strange experience of life: used well, it makes us responsible people; used poorly, it becomes a tool of devastation. We all know the control freaks we have encountered in life—in our families, at work, and in society. Taking control in a crisis is a great thing; committing your life to controlling everyone and everything is a nightmare. I don’t want to ramble any more than I already have, but reflecting upon control in your life from time to time is a good thing. It is one of the most misapplied experiences of life: so little self-control (where it really belongs) and too much exterior control, where it often causes wreckage.

More than control, I want renewed ways of seeing, refreshed ways of listening, and revived ways of receiving the world about me. I pray that the Spirit can awaken my senses and my mind to return to that sense of wonder and discovery I had as a child. I don’t want the mind of a child—that unformed and undisciplined mess of emotions and impulses. I want the joy of wonder and the sense of trust that the Master so loved about children. Gratitude, wonder, and joy—these and many more gifts from the Giver make my life a blessing every day. I pray I don’t forget this. Know that I offer my prayers for you when I go before Him. To all of you, known and unknown, may the Giver of all good things bless you abundantly today.

Log - Jasper Garratt - Unsplash

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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 ...

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2026 Teams Talk @ Padre's

Padre - Tom Miller invites you to a Coffee Talk, Speakeasies, Schmoozes, Tea Times, Afterhours and other gatherings.

https://teams.live.com/meet/93792382189049?p=DiBHsYfuECPgDrG7vO

2026 Coffee Talk with the ADD Irregulars
Thursday, January 1, 2026
6:00 AM - 8:00 AM (CST)
Occurs every day starting 1/1 until 12/31/2027

Coffee Talk - Daily beginning at 6:00 AM Central Time Zone - USA

White Pilled Wednesday - A break from the heaviness of news and current events to focus upon things more personal & positive for the first hour of Coffee Talk.

Afternoon Chats - Most Tuesday, Friday & Sundays 2:00 PM Central

Other chats as posted in the community. 

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From the morning chat
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The Garden of the Beloved - Read by Lady Clare
Chapter 13 - The Proud Minister

XIII

The Proud Minister

One day there came into the Garden a man in torn clothes badly bruised and cut, who said to the Lover, “In the name of the Beloved I demand your help.”

So the Lover and the Disciple let him in and dressed his wounds and prepared the best of the vegetables from the Garden for him to eat.  When his wounds had been dressed and he had eaten and rested the Lover asked him how he had fallen into this plight, to which the man replied, “I was Minister of the Beloved in a city near this place, where I preached His gospel and expounded His doctrine to the people. I pointed out to them how their sins had made them wholly hateful to the Beloved and how therefore they were utterly beyond the range of His love and He would condemn them to eternal torments, whereon some fell into despair and wept bitterly but many were angry.  One day the magistrates called me before them and begged me to leave the city and preach elsewhere for they said I had made many people so angry and desperate that they feared there might be a riot and they might not be able to protect me but that I might suffer some injury.  I, however, very zealous for the Beloved and believing that the magistrates only feared that their own sins might be proclaimed, preached the more vehemently, denounced the magistrates and made it abundantly clear that the whole wicked city was foredoomed to eternal punishment by the just provision of the Beloved.  Whereon a mob, stirred up no doubt by the corrupt and venal magistrates, fell upon me with sticks and stones, nearly killing me and driving me out of the city in the state in which I came to you.”

“My friend,” said the Lover, “this was not a good deed of yours, for besides denying the unfathomable compassion of the Beloved, you have by your obstinacy caused these people to commit a grievous sin, and this cannot be pleasing to the Beloved, that through you who profess to be His minister the people should become worse.  Surely you remember that He Himself said, ‘If they persecute you in one city flee to another.’”

Therefore the man was very angry, and cursing the Lover, said, “I see that I have had a very false report of you and I do not believe that you are a servant of the Beloved at all.  When I came to you so injured for the Beloved’s sake you set before me only herbs and fruits although the garden is full of birds which you could have killed to make me a worthy meal.  I shall proclaim everywhere that you are no true servant of the Beloved but a mere falterer who dares not suffer in the cause of the Beloved.  Be sure that you are foreordained to eternal torments who suffer nothing here.”

For the man was so blinded by his own pride that he could not perceive the scars on the hands and feet and the brows of the Lover nor how the cloth beneath the armpits of his tunic was dyed with a red dye.  So he went out of the Garden cursing and shouting.

But the Lover looked sad and said, “A man like this does much harm to the cause of the Beloved, for by thus speaking falsely about the Beloved he may bring men to fear Him but none to love Him, and by love alone can any man approach the Beloved.”

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