Loving God & Your Neighbor

08/22/2026

A Sh*tty Little Prayer About Our Bodies

Dear God,

These bodies you gave us … I mean, there’s a lot to love about them.

First of all, they can sing – so, good job on that one.

And they can laugh at bad jokes and walk across the street to say hi to our neighbor’s dog.

And these bodies you gave us can smell fresh lavendar and savor the taste of perfectly ripe of cantaloupe in August.

And honestly, it’s pretty amazing the way the skin of someone we love can feel on our own skin. So, that’s pretty cool.

But I do have some notes.

Because these bodies are so fragile. So easily wounded and prone to sickness.

They age and get soft and just sort of slowly slip toward the ground like they’re really tired of holding it all up.

And then sometimes our bodies stop making insulin or our knees suddenly can’t do really simple things for us anymore (like reliably get us up from the damn sofa), or our cells lose their minds and mutate in ways that make us need to remove and/or poison entire parts of these bodies you gave us just so we don’t die …and if I’m honest, that feels like a pretty major design flaw.

But then they can also magically knit themselves back together - which, if I’m honest, is kind of mindblowing. That they can be sliced opened, fixed, closed - and then…somehow… cells come to repair the whole thing, collagen lays down across the incision like the lattice top of our grandmother’s apple pie, and one day we are whole again. Crossing the street to say hi to the neighbor’s dog.

Pretty cool.

These bodies you gave us, God…

please help us be a little more patient when they disappoint us,

and a little more respectful when they need something from us,

and a little more grateful when they take such good care of us.

Because we are just down here doing our best with what we’ve been given.

Amen.

Source: Nadia Bolz-Weber, August 22, 2026

08/21/2026

Radical Self-Care in a National Nightmare

Friends, these days will kill you if you’re not careful.
As we find ourselves fully engulfed in the Category 5 s**t storm that is a second Trump term, two things are irrefutably clear: it’s much worse than we thought it would be, and it’s gonna get much worse before it gets better.

At this point, even the most pessimistic post-2024 election predictions have woefully underestimated the scope and velocity of the carnage to our systems of protection, our long-established structural institutions, and the elemental freedoms we’ve counted as givens.

The emotional whiplash of a relentless stream of diabolical Executive Orders, unrestrained sociopathy, stratospheric economic malpractice, and pathological attacks on vulnerable people is enough to level even the most measured and otherwise imperturbable among us.

In other words, our nervous systems weren’t built for this very special kind of homegrown hell.

What that means, in rubber-meets-the-road practicality, is that all the normal tried-and-true avenues of self-care may likely prove insufficient.

Even if you are somehow able in this disorienting, perpetual state of national emergencies and existential crises to actually keep a strict regimen of sleep, good nutrition, hydration, exercise, meditation, prayer, time in nature, relational connection, artistic pursuits, therapy, and limited media exposure—you might still feel like you’re about a millisecond from completely losing it in any given moment. (I know that I am.)

Now, you definitely don’t want to abandon the above practices, as they’ll surely help tether you to health and sanity, but I want to suggest that you might want to philosophically make other alterations in light of the gravity of these days; some new daily commitments you can make to yourself to navigate the nightmare. Consider these:

Burn bridges to toxic people. It’s a noble thing to want to reach across lines of tribalism and to try and stay connected with those whose opinions differ from ours, but there’s a limit to what is healthy, or called for, or even hunamly possible. Recently, our friends, family members, neighbors, and co-workers have revealed with great clarity who they are, what is stored up in their hearts. At this point, it’s perfectly fine to determine that some people, even people we know well and love, are morally incompatible with us.

Have the damn dessert. Yeah, we all know that as a rule, emotional eating is a bad idea and that intentionally overindulging won’t be good long-term, but given the number of historic implosions happening right now and the uncertainty of so many things, it’s a good idea to treat yourself to some comfort food or a libation or some small sensory pleasure, to remind yourself of the beauty found in simplicity. (Now, what w**e pairs well with the fall of a Republic?)

Stop procrastinating away happiness. If you’ve been postponing a dream trip, holding off on writing your novel, or putting off a new project, cut that crap out, now. It isn’t trivial to attend to such things when disaster hits, but essential. One of the greatest forms of resistance is to live fully, joyfully, and creatively. Yes, it may all be hitting the fan right now, but you can put on a poncho and press on. Don’t wait for permission to really live, because fascists will not provide it.

Ask anything and say everything. One of the blessings of destabilizing, consequential moments like the ones that we’re in is that they help us clarify who we are and precisely what is worth living for; the causes and people that matter to us. Over the last two years you’ve likely learned a great deal about yourself, or you’ve been reminded of stuff that you forgot. And if things are all going sideways anyway, it’s a great time to be exactly who you are without apology or editing.

Stop giving a damn what people think. Repeat after me: someone else’s opinion of me is none of my business. Unbelievably, there are still people who are so addled by some toxic cocktail of denial, wishful thinking, ignorance, and American exceptionalism that they insist on tone policing those of us who are sounding the alarm and announcing the sky’s plummeting toward us. Those people do not deserve your time or emotional bandwidth. Refuse to be burdened by their expectations or bound by their sensibilities; you have a nation to save.

Please understand that I’m not minimizing what we’re going through collectively and what you’re enduring individually or what’s ahead for all of us. These are sobering, harrowing, dangerous times, and we will be pressed up against threats and worries many of us have never faced before. That’s all the more reason to live the hell out of single every day.

So yes, friends, please take good care of your physical, spiritual, mental, emotional, and relational health by adopting practices and patterns that can provide a buffer between you and the terrifying hellscapes on your timeline, outside your window, and in your head.

But beyond that, in what feels like (and may indeed be) the worst-case scenario, make it a priority to radically care for yourself by refusing to compromise or deny yourself simple pleasures or postpone your dreams or silence your own voice.

The world may indeed be falling apart, but we don’t have to.

Source: John Pavolovitz, Aug.21, 2026

08/20/2026

Christianity 101- An Interview with James Talarico and Ezra Klein

State Representative James Talarico of Texas might have been our mo...

08/19/2026

When Hope Becomes Practice

There are seasons when people feel the weight of what has been broken and still sense that another way remains possible. Prophetic imagination begins there, among wounded communities, teaching the heart to see where violence is leading and to choose a different future while there is still time. That future becomes practical when swords are imagined as tools for cultivation, when hardened hearts soften, and when justice moves toward the places most neglected. These images ask something of ordinary life. They invite gentler speech, repaired relationships, courageous resistance to harm, and patient work for the common good. It is to translate that hope for the future into action in the present and to keep acting in light of it. Hope then becomes a daily practice, carried quietly through choices that help make peace more believable, more embodied, and more shared.

May the hope carried within become tenderness in our relationships, courage in our choices, and peace made visible through our lives.

Beneath our hurried lives,
hope keeps turning the soil,
making room for tenderness to rise
where violence once hardened us.

From: Contemplative Living, August 19, 2026

08/14/2026

The Kinship of Being

There are days when the world feels scattered, and the heart can begin to live as though each life were separate. Yet awareness waits beneath that strain: our lives belong to one another, as rain belongs to soil and roots belong to earth. Creation is one giant symphony of mutual sympathy. When this becomes more than an idea, attention changes. A stranger’s grief matters. A bird at the window becomes kin. The river is no longer scenery, but a neighbor whose well-being touches our own. From this recognition, love becomes practical. We listen more carefully, consume more gently, and make room at the table. Peace begins close to the body, then moves outward through choices. The invitation is simple and demanding: remain near what is alive, cherish what is given, and let belonging shape the way each day is lived.

May the quiet knowledge of belonging soften the heart and guide each encounter toward tenderness, care, and peace.

May every breath remember the earth.
May every open hand become a table
where all life finds welcome and belonging.

From: Contemplative Living, Aug. 14, 2026

08/13/2026

May love bend us gently toward one another,
until every forgotten face becomes a doorway,
and every encounter becomes home.

08/10/2026

https://youtu.be/mD9t3ANBcag?is=gfHNM-vmN-wXbZLp

08/10/2026

https://www.facebook.com/reel/1338462124934236

08/10/2026

The Doorway of the Ordinary

So much of life can feel divided into ordinary moments and rare moments of meaning, yet attention gently begins to heal that division. A cup held in tired hands, a tree outside a window, the face of a stranger can become a doorway when received with care. It is one sacred universe, and we are all a part of it. This awareness invites reverence wherever life is already touching us. As attention deepens, the world begins to feel like a living presence meeting us through each encounter. That recognition shapes how we walk, speak, consume, and respond. Humility grows as we remember that every creature shares this belonging. The practice is simple and demanding: stay close to what is here, meet it with curiosity, and allow ordinary life to teach the listening heart how to see with tenderness and wonder.

May reverence awaken gently within us, shaping each encounter into an expression of care for the whole living world.

Here, in this breathing world,
may our eyes grow tender,
our hands become gentle,
and every encounter deepen
belonging together.

Daily Insights for Contemplative Living

08/08/2026

A Prayer for Social Justice

O Heart that holds the weight of every tear, bend low to hear the cries of the unheard. Let justice rise like dawn over shadowed streets, its light unbroken, its warmth for all. Where walls divide, plant seeds of mercy; where fear takes root, let courage bloom. Teach our hands to build, not break; our tongues to bless, not wound. May the hungry be fed with more than bread, the weary be clothed in dignity, the stranger be welcomed as kin, and the oppressed walk free beneath open skies. Still the storms of hatred in every heart, till peace flows like a river through our cities, and every soul rests in the shelter of a justice that knows no end. AMEN.