Even though I consider my life to be focused on spiritual values, I don't give much breath to blabbing about it. No speeches, no sermons, no theological debates. My energy is invested in implementing those ideas. 

But this week I was given the opportunity to wrap words around them. In answering comments on the channel Off the Left Eye, a reader complained that belief is unprovable, and hope is empty. While I had no interest in convincing him or her of anything, I did accept the invitation to articulate what they mean to me. It felt good. 

Then in the process of applying to earn more training for what I do, I was tasked with writing the history of my faith, and the significant events that helped shape it. What a complete gift. Looking back on the ways God has guided me through the foggy circumstances of the last half century gives me a good reason to smile. And give thanks. And weep. 

The other day I was driving from a new direction to the place I teach sewing. I asked GPS to direct me. The turns I took seemed counterintuitive, and I was tempted to ignore it. Not that I knew what to do instead. Then I suddenly found myself exactly where I needed to be. I almost laughed. 

I have a feeling that my relief at arriving on time carried more joy than if I had a firm grip on my bearings all along.