I know, at least on an intellectual level, that every day is a new beginning, an invitation to “begin again.” But somehow, my offering Sunday morning did not have the usual liberating impact it often has upon my spirit. I felt like I was enmeshed in cobwebs. All of that changed after I went down the stairs for my morning cup of coffee. There, in his high chair, filled with the energy of a dozen men, was my grandson. He smiled as he saw my face and gave me a precious gift! That is all it takes anymore to turn...
