Certain memories linger in our hearts with special clarity. For me, a long-ago Holy Saturday that marked the day before my reception into the Catholic Church is one of those.
We might find the quiet peace of genuine trust if we surrendered our willfulness early and often, rather than as a last resort.
The cup of submission, of suffering, of death itself becomes the vessel not of our punishment or of God’s wrath, but of our salvation.
I was deeply moved by a visit to the Garden of Gethsemane and to the Church of All Nations that is accessible through the garden.
Whether we imbibed that living water at a religious summer camp, in a youth group or simply through the regular practice of attending church with family, we are blessed by the abiding, grounding presence of God, even when we drift away.