I hope no woman here will ever allow herself to lose her ideals, even though she meets with resistance and disappointment; still dress your sweetest, look your nicest, and care for the home, making it as happy as possible, though your heart is like lead within you. In middle life and afterwards we get beyond our ideals. They are like the withered flowers of a bridal bouquet—a handful of withered leaves. The heart that sits alone, when the light of some great hope has passed, may well be said to sit “in the dust.”
The Gift of Suffering
by F.B. Meyer
Category: TRANSCIENCE
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When the blessed St. Arsenius was about to depart, the brethren saw him weeping, scared and terrified. His disciples asked him, “Even you fear this hour, O father?” He said unto them, “The dread of this hour has been with me from the time I became a monk.” And so he died.
Abba Arsenius – The Tutor of the Emperor’s Sons
Bishop Macarius -
“Life is short and long. There’s time and there isn’t. “
—Lisa Olivera -
“Live at home like a traveler.”
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There was an artist in the city of Kouroo who was disposed to strive after perfection. One day it came into his mind to make a staff. Having considered that in an imperfect work time is an ingredient, but into a perfect work time does not enter, he said to himself, It shall be perfect in all respects, though I should do nothing else in my life. He proceeded instantly to the forest for wood, being resolved that it should not be made of unsuitable material; and as he searched for and rejected stick after stick, his friends gradually deserted him, for they grew old in their works and died, but he grew not older by a moment. His singleness of purpose and resolution, and his elevated piety, endowed him, without his knowledge, with perennial youth. As he made no compromise with Time, Time kept out of his way, and only sighed at a distance because he could not overcome him.
Walden
by Henry David Thoreau -
It is remarkable how easily and insensibly we fall into a particular route, and make a beaten track for ourselves. I had not lived there a week before my feet wore a path from my door to the pond-side; and though it is five or six years since I trod it, it is still quite distinct.
Walden
by Henry David Thoreau -
Many, at their time of death weep, not for their sins, but because death will deprive them of the pleasures of life. They weep because death will separate them from their beloved ones and from their lusts; the world is still sweet in their eyes even at the hour of death. Do not think that death surely brings dread to man. No, this is not true for every one. The thief on the right benefitted from the hour of death whereas the thief on the left did not. Whilst the thief on the left was blaspheming and reviling, his companion was praying and supplicating, saying “Remember me, O Lord, when You come into Your kingdom.”
—H.H. Pope Shenouda III, Father, Forgive Them
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And it will be no small affliction to the souls of those who are being punished at that time, to reflect that when they had it in their power in the few days of this life to make all good, they neglected their opportunity and surrendered themselves to everlasting evil. And lest we should suffer this, let us rouse ourselves while it is the accepted time, while it is the day of salvation,’ while the power of repentance is great.
ST. JOHN CHRYSOSTOM
ON REPENTANCE & DEFEATING DESPAIR
Letters to Theodore -
God forms character in obscurity. Right now you might feel forgotten. Do not despise the hidden season. Hidden years are not wasted years.
