Come December, I find myself anxiously gripping the Church’s new liturgical year in vain; the harder I hold on, the quicker its meaning sifts through my clenched fists. Though I say I’m going to go deeper in my daily devotional practice, I won’t. Though I vow to embrace winter’s darkness in order to discover the inner divine Light, I don’t. Though I promise to focus on hope-peace-love-joy, it escapes me. Amid the seasonal to-dos of a market-driven culture, I find myself caught up in the world, not the tiny babe in a manger … Read the full article at Bearings.
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