There is no rule that limits the amount of peanut butter that you should put on your bread. There’s also no rule that says that you have to choose to like either crunchy or smooth peanut butter. I happen to like both.

There’s no rule that say that you must conform to a pattern of life by a certain age, i.e. married by 25, kids by 30, etc. God’s timetable for you is your own and nobody else’s. Comparison is the thief of joy, and it keeps you from appreciating all that God is doing in YOUR life, not somebody else’s.

You will always be a second-rate version of whoever is out there that you try to imitate. You will be a first-rate version of yourself if you only try to be yourself as much as possible.

By the way, my preferred peanut butter is The Bee’s Knees by Peanut Butter & Company. They sell it at The Fresh Market if you’re interested.

I posted this Wordsworth poem on social media a few years back for reasons unknown. Perhaps it was it stirred up beautiful images and emotions within me.

Reading it again just now, it conjures up pictures of Radnor Lake State Park (or anywhere where nature still reigns over man-made habitations).

I still believe poetry is good for the soul. I hope you enjoy this one as much as I have:

“And O ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,  
Forebode not any severing of our loves!  
Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;  
I only have relinquish’d one delight  
To live beneath your more habitual sway.  
I love the brooks which down their channels fret,  
Even more than when I tripp’d lightly as they;  
The innocent brightness of a new-born Day  
Is lovely yet;  
The clouds that gather round the setting sun  
Do take a sober colouring from an eye  
That hath kept watch o’er man’s mortality;  
Another race hath been, and other palms are won.  
Thanks to the human heart by which we live,  
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,  
To me the meanest flower that blows can give  
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears” (William Wordsworth).

Yeah, basically I had no intention of starting my day off with a spectacular nosebleed. But sometimes it happens.

It’s a bit unnerving to see that much blood coming out of your nose, especially when it doesn’t seem to want to stop. The rest of the day involved a trip to Urgent Care and a day spent at home resting.

Here I am, 18 or so hours later (and currently nosebleed-free), writing these words and thanking God that it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

Maybe days like these will help you to appreciate your health a little bit more. I know I probably won’t take mine for granted any more.

Also, it makes me appreciate even more the grace of God that wakes me up every morning and sings me to sleep every night. Without that grace, I’d be screwed.

I’m learning not to take anything in this life for granted but to trust God for everything in every moment, casting all my cares on Him and leaning on His understanding and not mine. It’s another step toward my declaration of utter and total dependence on God that will only increase and grow as I get older.

While I may not have enough of what I want or what I think I need, I have more than enough grace. I have more than enough God to overcome any lack of anything else.

That’s still the key for me. Give thanks because every moment of every day with God in it is grace, pure and simple. Anything good on top of that is gravy.

Yeah, it was a good day. It was also a Monday. No, those two are not always mutually exclusive. Sometimes you have to decide in your mind that you choose what kind of day you will have by your attitude going into it and how you respond rather than react to the day’s events.

Was it my best day ever? No. I’ve had better. Was it the worst? By far no.

But it was a day filled with new mercies and fresh grace. It was a day covered in hesed, my new favorite word that basically means deserving nothing and receiving everything from God.

I had sunshine, good music in my car, a fairly smooth commute to and from work, a good hike with a friend, and the joy of waking up for one more day. Those are what constitutes a good day in my book these days.

It’s not about having everything you want that money can buy. It’s about having everything that money can’t buy– what you can never put a dollar amount on, what can’t be bought or sold.

“Some luck lies in not getting what you thought you wanted but getting what you have, which once you have got it you may be smart enough to see is what you would have wanted had you known” (Garrison Keillor).

You know it’s officially summer in the South, not by the date on the calendar but by the amount of humidity in the air and the level of volume of hair for anyone with curly locks.

Yes, folks, the season of sweat-pocalyse has begun in earnest.

I’m not the biggest fan of hot weather, but I’ll take 95 degrees with low to no humidity over a muggy 85 any day. It’s that humidity that makes me sweat more profusely. I’m pretty sure everyone who’s within smellin’ distance of me is thankful for low humidity.

For me, all it takes is walking outside in the day time. I don’t even have to exert. I just have to be outside for more than five minutes and the sweat starts dripping.

Did I mention how much I really, really love fall?

It was nothing monumental. It was nothing radically life-altering. It was just me riding in the Red Sled with the windows down in the unseasonably coolish weather with Billie Holiday singing me home.

I do love me some air conditioning. Don’t get me wrong. But 1) the A/C in my car is quite possibly on the fritz, and 2) there’s something about the way the night breezes play with my hair that does something to my soul.

I’m working my way through Lady Day: The Complete Columbia recordings of Ms. Holliday. I guess I’ve been a fan of hers since high school. I don’t know much about her other than her life was a bit tragic and her voice was magic.

I’m all about celebrating the small moments. I’m into giving thanks for all the so-called little gifts, because when I acknowledge the small, I show that I am ready for bigger and better.

Thank You, God, for this life, and forgive me if I don’t love it (or You) enough.

It was two years ago today that my beloved Lucy crossed that rainbow bridge, taking a little piece of my heart with her. I count that as one of the saddest days of my life.

I realize that it’s probably a little silly to get so worked up over a cat. People I know have suffered much more devastating losses. But she was my constant and faithful companion. She was always a quiet and comforting presence.

Looking back, I’m thankful that God blessed me with such a loving and loyal friend. She could at times be ornery and she was not a fan of belly rubs, but she was the ultimate lap cat and slept on the pillow beside mine just about every night.

I do wish the rainbow bridge had visiting hours. I’d go and thank my Lucy for all her love. I’d tell her that I have a new cat named Peanut who is the recipient of all the love I had for Lucy, not a replacement but a rescue. I think Lucy would appreciate her gotcha story.

Time by itself doesn’t heal anything. Finding a new outlet for the love to flow helps. Also gratitude goes a long way. Above all whatever hurts or sorrows I’ve entrusted into God’s care have been slowly but surely transformed into joy and healing.

I know for sure that if I had the chance, I’d do it all again with Lucy. All 17 years. Even the hard parts. Even that hardest last part. I treasure all my memories that I carry with me in my heart for as long as I live.

“I believe my steps are growing wearier each day
Still I’ve got a journey on my mind
Lures of this old world have ceased to make me want to stay
and my one regret is leaving you behind

If it proves to be his will that I’m the first to go
And some how I’ve a feeling it will be
When it comes time to travel likewise don’t feel lost
For I will be the first one that you’ll see

And I’ll be waiting on the far side banks of Jordan
I’ll be waiting drawing pictures in the sand
And when I see you coming I will rise up with a shout!
And come running through the shallow waters reaching for your hand

Through this life we’ve laboured hard to earn our meager fare
It’s brought us trembling hands and failing eyes
I’ll just rest here on this shore and turn my eyes away
And then you’ll come then we’ll see paradise”

Lately, I’ve been reading books again. Actual books with actual pages that you can physically turn.

The latest is a biography and loving and honest tribute by John Carter Cash to his late mother June Carter Cash. The book details how both Johnny and June struggled with drug addictions yet both maintained a stedfast faith that carried them through even the lowest times and darkest moments.

That’s one thing I’m starting to understand when it comes to addiction. You can love Jesus and be an addict. Sometimes God will take the craving and dependency away, but sometimes for whatever reason He leaves His child in the midst of the storm of addiction if only to grow a deeper dependency on Him.

In the end, what matters is that Johnny and June loved each other deeply. They also both had deep faith in Jesus. Yes, they had their demons, but I truly believe that God in Jesus kept His word that nothing could ever separate them from His love– not any power of hell, not any grave, and certainly not any addiction.